“Your lemonade,” Ian says as he brings an ice-cold pitcher and a chilled glass out to me.
The minty top note hits my nose first. I look up at him through my shades and smile. “Thank you ever so much. Any news fromAnton?”
“He and Andrei are meeting with the Popovs as we speak. The initial support for Kuznetsov seems to be waning, but I wouldn’t place any bets yet.”
He fills my glass and adjusts the sunshade.
“Do you think you might be able to set up lunch on the terrace for Laura and me today?”
“I think I can make that happen,” Ian replies with a smile.
“Thanks, Ian. You’re the best.”
My phone pings.
“Oh,” I mumble, checking the screen.
It’s a text from Ciara.
I’m in trouble. Help me.
Shit.
I immediately call her, but I’m sent straight to voicemail.
What’s going on?
Sergei suspects something.
Did you get into his vault?
It’s quiet for a while, and I’m getting nervous, my heart beating faster with each minute of silence. Finally, three dots appear again.
I did. But he’s got eyes on me all the time. I can’t get out of here.
What can I do?
I need a diversion.
Okay, leave this to me. Hang in there, sis. I got you.
Anton isn’t reachable by phone or email. I’ve left him messages, so he’s been informed, at least, and he’ll learn what I’m about to do when he reads through everything. In the meantime, Ian and I prepare to head out.
“I just need to get close enough to the mansion so we can create a diversion.”
“I know, but it still doesn’t feel right.”
“All we have to do is be there when Ciara comes out of the tunnels. I told her to take the route that leads into Mr. Kristofferson’s yard, which is right next door. We’ll be in the car, waiting, right outside his gate.”
“It sounds simple enough.”
“Then what is it?”
He checks the magazine and slips it into the gun, then makes sure the safety is off before holstering it under his jacket.
“I don’t know, Eileen. Call it a gut instinct, if you will. I specifically don’t like the fact that Mr. Karpov didn’t greenlight this move.”
“Have you been successful in reaching him?”