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So perhaps it would be better to do as the Americans wanted and shut things down...for now. A few more weeks—that’s all his men needed to wrap things up and put the operation in Zakhar on the shelf. It could be dusted off later and reinstated if circumstances changed. If not...well, there were other European countries, after all. It would just be a matter of bribing the right officials.
Aleksandrov Vishenko had operated in the shadow world for years with few people the wiser, reaping the rewards that came to a man who had no scruples. No morals. It would not have been a bad thing if Prince Nikolai had dethroned the king of Zakhar and taken his place, for then Vishenko would have had the new king in his pocket.
Not to be, he thought with a fatalistic shrug. Prince Nikolai was in jail and would remain there. Which meant Vishenko was safe...for now. But that could change.
So the little crown prince had to die. Unfortunate but necessary. And when he did, Prince Nikolai would die, as well. Wrapping up that loose end, making it appear a suicide, would be tricky. But no more impossible than other deaths Vishenko had successfully arranged over the years, including deaths inside prisons. No more impossible than killing the crown prince.
There is one more loose end I must eliminate, he reminded himself coldly, clinically. This one would be harder to accomplish than killing the two princes—man and child—because he at least knew where they were. It was different with Caterina. She had run six years ago, vanishing into thin air, and had never been found despite the bounty he’d placed on her head. He’d agonized at first—unnecessarily, as it turned out—that Caterina would take the evidence she’d compiled against him to the feds, and he’d lived in fear for nearly two years, waiting for the ax to fall. Waiting to be arrested. Tried. Convicted. He’d finally relaxed...but not completely. His men had continued searching for her, to no avail.
Caterina had been a grievous error in judgment—two grievous errors, he admitted. Letting her into his life...and letting her live to tell. I will not be secure until all three are dead, he thought as he savored another sip of brandy. Prince Nikolai. Crown Prince Raoul. And Caterina Mateja.
Chapter 3
Alec sat quietly in a small conference room with only the secretary of state, the king of Zakhar and a man who’d been introduced as Colonel Marianescu, head of internal security. Though nothing more was said, Alec knew Colonel Marianescu was the king’s cousin as well as his closest confidant and adviser. The fact that only four men were in the room was a dead giveaway something extremely confidential was going to be discussed.
The king opened by thanking both Americans for being there. “I asked for this private meeting with you, Mr. Secretary,” he said, his steely gaze fixing on the secretary of state before moving to Alec, “and with your embassy’s new regional security officer, to tell you I had more than just a personal reason behind my request for a new RSO at the embassy in Zakhar. I wanted to speak to you both in person—privately—to explain.”
The king’s lips tightened. “We have heard rumors of corruption and fraud at the US embassy here in Drago related to trafficking in women.” His flint-eyed expression left no doubt how he felt about this. “Prostitution, Mr. Secretary. Forced prostitution. The queen is incensed, and rightfully so—any decent person would feel the same. And the word is this corruption at your embassy is occurring at high levels. Possibly even the highest levels.”
The secretary of state looked shocked. “I can assure you, Your Majesty, that—”
The king cut him off. “I do not want assurances from you, sir. I believe you are sincerely shocked by this allegation. Nevertheless, if the rumors are to be believed, Zakharians are involved...as both predator and prey. And there are whispers the Bratva may have a hand in this, as well.”
Cold anger was coming off the king in waves. “I want this crime syndicate stopped now. Not a year from now, or two years from now, after an investigation finds proof that holds up in a US courtroom.” He glanced at Alec again. “The Drago police force is already on the case, but that investigation can only go so far. By bringing in a new RSO, whatever is going on at the US embassy will be stopped. Now. I am sure of it.”
He drew a deep breath and forcibly relaxed. Then he smiled faintly at Alec. “If I could trust you with my sister’s safety, Special Agent Jones—and I did—I believe I can trust you in this.”
The allegations disturbed Alec, but he wasn’t shocked. This wouldn’t be the first time someone in a position of trust within a US embassy was accused of visa fraud, although he wouldn’t have thought the embassy here in Zakhar was a likely target for people desperate enough to pay under the table to obtain a US visa to escape the conditions under which they lived.
