Page 13 of Vienna Bargain

“First of all, if I don’t accept your bargain, what happens?”

“You are turned over to the Gendarmerie.”

“The…what?” The German police were Bundespolizei or BPOL. Had he mistranslated or forgotten the word for police? Now that she thought about it she was fairly sure he’d meant gendarmerie as in Gendarmerie Nationale—the French police force that was a branch of that country’s military. But he’d pronounced it wrong. With harder consonants and longer vowel sounds than French.

“The gendarmerie?” She said with purposeful disinterest. If he turned her into the French police life would be a little more complicated, but not impossible.

“Not the French Gendarmerie Nationale. The Serbian Gendarmery. Formerly the Serbian PJP.”

Alena’s whole body went cold. She had no connections in Serbia. They weren’t in the EU yet.

If he turned her over to the Serbian police, she was in serious trouble.

“If I don’t take your three week bargain, I end up in custody in Belgrade.”

“Wagner’s second largest facility is there. I will report the break in and data theft as happening in that country.”

Alena met Alexander’s eyes. He had her over a barrel…and he knew it.

“Three weeks, and I walk, even if you haven’t figured out what I was doing?”

“Correct.”

If she were naive, she would say that this was his way of protecting her. He was giving her an opportunity to walk away from this with no repercussions.

She wasn't that naïve.

“Where exactly will I be during the three weeks?”

“With me.”

Alexander had leaned forward, and his mask had slipped. She could see the anger in the set of his brows, and a sort of menacing satisfaction in the way his lip was curled in a sneer.

He was waiting for her to ask the right question. This was a trap, but she couldn’t see the shape of it yet.

“And where will you be for those weeks?”

Alexander’s sneer grew into a cold smile. “Beleu Lake.”

“Your villa in Moldova.”

That surprised him for a moment, and he sat back. In the next moment, his hand fisted and he looked away.

“Would you rather I pretend that I hadn’t researched you? Pretend I’m just some woman you met at the club?”

“No.”

When he faced her once more the cruel smile was back. There was something he hadn’t said yet, a catch to this “bargain.”

She wanted to demand he just tell her, but that wasn’t…

That wasn’t how the game was played.

She forced herself to relax. To assess her opponent. Chess wasn’t a good metaphor for the game she and Alexander were playing because the board was far from level. This was poker, and she’d been dealt a very bad had.

The only chip she had to wager was herself. Information wasn’t something she could risk betting.

“What’s at your house in Moldova?” she asked.

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