Page 1 of Gilded Saint

Prologue

Sam, aka Saint

“The deal’s done.”

“Any surprises?”

There was something about the way Jack Sullivan asked, the tilt of his head, or maybe it was the fact we were sitting in a high-security location that led me to believe he already knew the answer to the question.

“I didn’t meet with Yuri Petrov. The man I met sounded British, but his name is Russian. Nick Ivanov. He said Petrov was indisposed.”

“What did you think of Ivanov?”

The syndicate representative wasn’t what I expected. Intelligent. Well-spoken. My gut read him as trustworthy, even though our intel argued otherwise. “Came across like a respectable business executive. My hunch is the project got dumped in his lap.”

“Did you spend time with him?”

“Dinner. He didn’t share anything relevant, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“For our purposes, everything is relevant.”

“I’ll detail the conversation in my report.”

Jack studied me, and an unwarranted uneasiness struck. Jack Sullivan asked me to handle this for him as a favor on an off-the-record project. But it was a test. Subconsciously, I knew it. And I reacted the same way I reacted to all tests, determined to ace it.

“He liked you.” Jack’s statement came across like an accusation.

“You spoke to Ivanov?”

“He called and asked if he could hire you. You sure there’s nothing you want to share about what happened in London?”

I crossed my arms, not liking what Jack insinuated one bit. “It was a straightforward deal. Handguns and rifles. Upsold him on suppressors and the new mini-explosive device. Told him it works well on doors, gates, and the like. Got you another twenty million on top of the original deal.”

“You’re a natural.”

“I like the product. Did what you said. Played it real. But I don’t understand why you’re selling to these guys. Delivery will occur over international waters. If you choose to deliver. Now you know how they skirt the system.” And that was the point of this op.

Jack rapped his knuckles against the conference room table. I sensed indecision, but if he had any, he resolved it in a split second.

“If we don’t sell to them, someone will. Information is power. The syndicate owns government leaders. Not only in the United States. The entire G8. We need to know who.”

“I didn’t get that kind of intel. But for the delivery of this order, he’ll send coordinates next week with detailed instructions. I’m telling you, I learned nothing of value.”

“He wants to bring you onto his team. He’s looking for an arms dealer to negotiate on behalf of the syndicate. But he doesn’t want to offer you the position if we’ll be offended.”

“Seriously?” Nick and I got along fine over dinner, but not let-me-steal-you-away-from-your-company level fine.

“We’re surprised too.”

“And he asked you?”

“They take family seriously. You went out there posing as my cousin’s kid. To them, that’s family. Our sources say that Yuri Petrov picked up a nasty heroin habit. Explains Ivanov stepping in. Petrov is, coincidentally, his cousin. But from what we’ve gathered, Nikolai Ivanov doesn’t party.”

“Nick,” I corrected, but regretted it when Jack looked at me the way an officer looks at a recruit. “He goes by Nick. And drugs may not be his thing, but women are. After dinner, half a dozen joined us. He offered me first choice. They never said they were prostitutes, but I assumed they were all on the payroll. I declined. Figured he wouldn’t like me after I turned him down, but since the deal was inked, and this is a one-off, it didn’t matter.”

Jack smiled slightly, like I gave him the information he’d been seeking.

“You turning him down showed him you won’t bow down to him. Foremost, he’s a businessman. He’s looking to replace Petrov with someone he can trust. He wants you to return to London and discuss the job. Says he wants an industry expert, someone with negotiation and interpersonal skills. He says you fit the bill. And I think he likes that it strengthens ties to Sullivan Arms. The syndicate values connections.”

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