Page 138 of Lethal Legacy

Pavel scurries out, leaving me with a picture of Lance Ryder—or whatever the fuck his name is—and an absolute fuckton of questions.

In the end, though, I decide my questions are going to have to wait.

If I’ve learned one thing over the years, it’s to trust my gut. And my gut says I need every fucking piece of this puzzle in my hands before I start piecing it all together. So I shove Lance Ryder and the Naryshkin Treasure into my mental vault and instead apply myself to the one thing currently demanding my attention: Mickey.

“And Pavel gave me an actual job to do, but I don’t think he thought I’d be able to do it, but I did, in, like, five minutes.”

I’ve never heard him speak so much, nor so breathlessly. I shift gear around the bend and keep listening.

“And so Pavel said I should come back, and they’d show me more about what they’re doing, but he said it was up to you. But, like, can I?” Mickey turns to me, his eyes shining. “I mean, I know I don’t know exactly what you’re working on there, and I get that you can’t tell me, but even if I could do small bits...” His voice trails off hopefully.

I’ve been thinking about this in the back of my mind since our conversation on the way to the lab. Instead of answering immediately, I pull the car to the side of the road, so we can have a proper conversation. “Tell me something, Mickey. Have you ever had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend,” I add hastily. “Whatever. You know what I mean.”

He stares at me, his face slowly coloring. “Why would you ask me that?” he mumbles uncomfortably.

“I’ll tell you why. Those guys you were hanging out with in the lab? Most of them started working for me when they weren’t that much older than you are now. My people found them in basements and school classrooms, hacking into the same kind of shit you’re undoubtedly hacking into now. That’s the thing about the fun little games you’ve been playing, Mickey. Sooner or later, someone notices. It’s just a question of who and when. And when someone offers a teenager a huge fucking salary and unlimited access to all the tech they need, do you think anyone ever says no?”

He frowns. “I guess not.”

“Nope. But these are guys who’ve spent most of their lives in front of a screen. Most of them were geeks at school, too focused on what they were hacking into to care much about friendships, let alone relationships. Want to know what those guys spend every minute doing when they’re not working for me, Mickey?”

He nods, but by the color on his face, he knows what I’m about to say.

“They’re either watching porn, gaming with long-distance and usually unobtainable people they’ll never meet, or creating avatars of the objects of their desire. Let me tell you what they aren’t doing. They aren’t actually dating. They’re not out in the world, learning how to interact with other people. They’re living off pizza and soda instead of taking care of their physical bodies. Typing instead of talking. And the closest most of them have ever come to actually making love to anyone is on the other end of a virtual reality headset.”

Mickey’s eyes are glued to my face. He gulps nervously but doesn’t say anything.

“I know you’re far too smart for school. So sooner or later, you’re going to have to make a choice—do you want a career in academia, in government, or in private business? If your goal is to win the Nobel, then you need to stop hacking and get into academia. If your goal is to work for the government, well.” I grin. “You and I probably need to part ways pretty soon.” He laughs at that. “And if you want to run the business your father left behind, then you need to listen to what I’m going to say.”

“I don’t care about academia,” Mickey says. “I mean, I get the importance of the piece of paper. But I don’t want to go into research. And I definitely don’t want to work for any government agencies.” His lip curls in a way that reminds me so much of Mikhail it’s uncanny. “History doesn’t have much nice to say about government agencies.”

I chuckle. “Probably not. Okay, then. Here’s what I think we should do. You keep going to school. Play the game. Keep your head down, like you have been doing. Stay under the radar, but start enjoying being there. Take up a sport, go to school dances. I can help you,” I say, when he looks uncomfortable. “I’ll make a deal with your school so you only attend part-time. I’ll tell them you have a private tutor or something. Two days a week, you come to the lab and work with the tech kids. Start learning the family business. I’ll make sure you get to do all the illegal stuff you can handle, but you’ll do it in my center, under Pavel’s supervision. No more hacking with your friends at school, or from home. And you agree to let me help you get fit and strong.” I fix him with a stern look. “You’ve seen enough by now to know that our business gets violent. If you want a place in it, you need to learn how to handle yourself. Are you prepared to commit to that?”

Mickey bites his lip uncomfortably. “What if I’m no good at it?”

“Ha!” I laugh. “You know how big Dimitry is, right?”

He nods.

“Well. When I first met him, Dimitry was a scrawny kid who couldn’t land a punch. He was getting beat on all the time.”

Mickey’s eyes widen. “Seriously?”

“Yup.” I wink. “But don’t ever tell him that I told you that. So what do you think?”

He’s already nodding enthusiastically. “Yes. I can do that. Yeah, that would actually be super cool.”

“Good.” I turn back to the wheel and pull the car onto the road.

“Uncle Roman?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think that if I... get fit, and do... what you said, like with school dances and stuff, that I might have a girlfriend one day?”

I grin. It amuses me that after the confident young man I spoke to in the car earlier, I’m now talking to the uncertain teenage boy who is desperately in need of reassurance. “I think I can guarantee that you will, mate.”

He digests that for a moment.

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