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Guilt shamed him. He should have asked the question sooner.
“I’m fine,” Alek said.
“I think you could use a break,” Lyon said.
Alek’s laugh was short and bitter. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon.”
“Let’s see what the Spies say,” Lyon said. “As soon as this is over, I want you to take some time.” Alek opened his mouth to protest and Lyon leveled his gaze at the other man. “It’s not a suggestion.”
Alek sighed, then nodded.
The door to the ballroom opened, and they both turned to see the suited guard standing in the doorway. “Your presence is requested.”
Lyon glanced at Alek, then headed for the door.
The ballroom was a time warp. Here, nothing ever changed, and Lyon had the sense that he could return in fifty years and find the same men sitting, stone-faced, behind the curved table.
He stood before them and said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
Ivan spoke first, as Lyon had known he would. The old bastard was enjoying this, enjoying the power he held over Lyon in spite of his betrayal.
“We have decided to sanction your assassination of Vadim Ivanov and his son.”
Lyon forced himself not to show relief. “I’ll see it done.”
“You will let us know when you learn of their location, keep us apprised of the situation,” Ivan said.
Lyon favored him with a small nod. He hadn’t told the Spies about the water cribs, about the fact that he’d asked the Syndicate for help locating Vadim.
Some things were better held close to the vest.
He’d turned to go when Ivan’s voice sounded again at his back. “Lyonya.”
Lyon turned, hating the sound of his full name in Ivan’s mouth. It was the name Lyon’s father had used, and it seemed like a sacrilege that it would be used by the man who had been like a father to him before his betrayal.
“Let this be the last disruption to our organization,” Ivan said. “Otherwise, we might begin to think it would be better placed in another’s hands.”
A storm of fury spun in Lyon’s chest. How dare Ivan speak to him this way? How dare Ivan sit there, placid and superior, accusing Lyon of poor leadership when it was Ivan who had let loose Lyon’s first challengers?
If not for Ivan, Lyon would have had the organization firmly in hand when Vadim appeared. He would have had more men, might have had their own cyberlab up and running. His war with Musa — a war orchestrated by Ivan — had cost him time and resources.
He simply nodded. He didn’t have the proof that would be required to level a credible accusation against a respected member of the Spies.
Ivan had made sure of that.
He walked swiftly to the door, eager to get as far away from Ivan as possible. The man was poison. Lyon would work to eliminate him from the Spies as soon as the organization was stabilized.
Alek pushed off the wall as Lyon came through the door, the only question that mattered in his eyes.
Lyon brushed past him on the way out of the room. “Let’s do this.”
22
Kira opened the box and parted the old tissue paper, then withdrew a delicate lace baby gown.
“Is this… is this my christening gown?” she asked.
“That it is,” Lina said, leaning over to get a better look. “Your mother had it made from Russian lace, shipped here especially for the occasion.”
