Page 49 of Some Like It Scandalous
“His name is Yuri Markov, he’s a Russian citizen and we believe he entered the United States illegally about six months ago.” Six months—was that before or after George was in Belaria? Did it matter? His timing couldn’t have been a coincidence, he’d arrived…
Just in time for a princess’s wedding.
“Now, Markov—he’s a foot soldier. His sheet is one long list of larceny, assault, battery and three attempted murder charges and four alleged murders, but he was never prosecuted on those. The interesting part is that Markov has ties to the Kachusov family in Belaria. He handles some business for them, but he’s a foot soldier.”
Belaria. Ice dripped down his spine.
“I see you are familiar with the country.”
Armand nodded once. “Yes. It has been in dire straits in the last few years, but shale leases in the mountains may provide a key to turning their economy around if they do not destroy the environment first.” A number of companies competed for the leases—leases held by the Kachusov family. Zuran Kachusov served as Belaria’s first president and his sons were all generals in the tiny country’s military—but beyond that, they were suspected of multiple ties to bratva families in St. Petersburg.
“The threats are coming from the Kachusovs?” Cool and impersonal—it was the only way to handle the rage building inside.
“We can’t say that for sure, sir. What we can tell you is that as of three days ago, Yuri received three payments totaling half a million dollars and three photographs.”
Amazing how the FBI seemed to know all this. Did they have Markov in custody?
“Unfortunately, Markov seemed aware of the surveillance and gave us the slip. We believe that the money representsdeposits or payoffs for targets. Currently, we have several to choose from here in the city—your cousin, her husband, yourself and your brothers.”
“And Miss Novak.” Armand did not want the FBI to ignore the credible threat to her.
“Yes, sir—Miss Novak is considered a lower risk because while we have threats targeting her, we believe it’s a decoy designed to stretch your resources thin.”
“I appreciate your candor, Agent. However, Miss Novak has been targeted because of her association with me—so you will not lower her ‘risk.’ My cousin and her husband are leaving on a long-overdue second honeymoon this afternoon.” He would speak to Daniel about it. The software programmer could work anywhere and his company was on solid footing. He could afford to take Alyx away to the islands—such as the isolated one the Andraste family owned. It wouldn’t take long to make the arrangements.
“As for my brothers, George will return to Europe within a day or two. He can stay at the family compound in Norway, it has as much security as here, if not more. Sebastian can return to the Mediterranean.” While Norway was closer to Belaria, it was farther than the current threat.
“Prince Armand, you’ll forgive me, but I do have a couple of questions for your youngest brother before he leaves.” The statement caught Armand off guard. He wasn’t sure he could convince Anna to take a long vacation—perhaps in Australia, halfway around the world from these issues.
“Why do you need to question George?” No one was touching his brother, not even the federal authorities.
The older man looked uneasy, his mouth compressed, his jaw tightened, and he smoothed his tie—a nervous habit he repeated twice since Armand had sat down. “Were you aware of Prince George’s visit to Belaria last year?”
Armand knew his brother’s itineraries. They were always filed with his office, Gretchen kept updates in the calendar so he knew what country and time zones his brothers were in. “This is related to his work with the Pulshkyn Party?” For all of George’s jet-setting ways, he did occasionally become passionate about a cause. The Pulshkyn Party in Belaria was a small political movement seeking to preserve Belaria’s cultural and environmental heritage—and stop foreign companies from plundering them.
“Washington thinks so.” The agent flipped the file to another page. “During his time in Belaria, the prince attended a dozen rallies, thirty-two coffee meetings, and donated in excess of one million dollars to the Pulshkyn Party’s movement. He was photographed with Bogdan Zhabin, the head of that movement.”
George’s growing notoriety in the region was the primary reason Armand ordered him to leave Belaria. They couldn’t afford the press coverage or the backlash—particularly the two bombings of Andraste factories on the border.
“Sir, in the last six months, the Pulshkyn platform and rallying cry has become a return to their roots—to their monarchy. They want to put you back on a throne.”
Rumors had filtered through the reports about that wrinkle—rumors Peterson confirmed the day before. Armand had instructed his executives and agents to play it down—particularly since he had no intentions of accepting a throne his great-grandfather was deposed from. “Yes, I am aware. These movements crop up from time to time in the destabilized areas of the former Soviet Union. It will pass.”
“That’s the rub, sir. Our analysts don’t see it passing anytime soon. At nearly every appearance of the Kachusov family in the last six weeks, Pulshkyn supporters have picketed and staged demonstrations—and the banner they are using features you.” As if he’d been waiting for this moment, the agent gesturedto the television and a series of images played out. The demonstrations seemed to begin peaceful, but always ended in violence. Armand’s face plastered to banners. The Russian placards read “Long Live Andraste,” “Bring the Andraste Home,” and even more disturbingly, “Belaria Needs Her Czar.”
“Then the threats are directly related to this.” It didn’t take a genius to put it together. It also explained the threat to Anna. A bachelor grand duke offered an ideal—a royal couple could be a dream, particularly if it promised issue and security for the royal line. He should never have forced that meeting with her. If not for his own need to see her again, she would be safe. “Would you please make sure my security director Peterson receives a copy of this—particularly the photograph of Markov?”
“Of course. Sir, if you don’t mind the suggestion—I think you should keep a lower profile for a bit, perhaps take a vacation of your own far away from the limelight?—”
Armand rose and shook the agent’s hand. “Thank you for your concern. We have dealt with threats like this before and no doubt will again.”
No, if anything, he needed to raise his profile. Draw the attention to himself—take the spotlights off Anna, George, and Sebastian. So far none of the threats seemed aimed at his mother, but he would increase her security nonetheless. The agent offered to walk him out—however, Armand’s security detail was large enough they’d parked in the subbasement beneath the FBI’s office.
In the car, he made a few phone calls—including one to verify Anna was still safely tucked away in the Petersburg Tower.
“Country club, sir?”
“Yes. Call Mr. Prentiss and let him know we will meet him there.” Armand dialed his secretary. “Gretchen, good morning. Would you put a phone call in to Nikole’s agent, Valeria’s, and Zoey’s as well. I would like all three in attendance next week.Yes, I received the memo that our launch had been delayed. Take care of any expenses with flying the ladies in—they can stay in our suites at the Beverly Wilshire. Very good.”
