Page 135 of Near Miss

This time, Asimov waited until the others had all arrived and were seated before he entered the room. As instructed, as soon as he took the chair at the head of the table, four women entered. They were all in their early twenties, beautiful, and wearing dresses that showed off more skin than they covered. Each carried a bottle of wine, and made their way around the table, serving the members of the council, then filed out of the room.

Once they were gone, all eyes turned to Asimov.

He lifted his glass. “A toast.”

The others raised their flutes.

“To the family,” he said

“To the family,” the rest of the council repeated.

After everyone had taken a drink, Asimov said, “I have news. As we all know, the lawyer Stone Barrington has been a blighton our family for some time now. But that ends tomorrow night. Before the sun comes up on Saturday, he will be dead.”

“Barrington has escaped our attempts before,” the man who oversaw the family’s illegal gambling interests said. “Are you sure he will not do so again?”

“I have taken measures to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“Anton Pentkovsky thought the same. As did the Gromykos.”

Several of the men around the table nodded in agreement.

Asimov’s jaw tensed. He had been expecting a more positive reaction. “I am neither Anton Pentkovsky nor either of the Greeks. If I say it will be different this time, I mean it.”

The Bean Counter leaned forward and gave Asimov a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps sharing your plan with us will help everyone feel the same confidence.”

“Yes,” someone else said. “We would like to know.”

Voices of assent rose in support.

“I can’t give you the specifics,” Asimov said, “but I can tell you that I have hired the best in the business to do the job. I’m sure you have heard of the Sarge?”

The looks of skepticism he’d been given quickly turned into one of disbelief.

“The Sarge?” one of the men said. “That was a smart move.”

“Thank you,” Asimov said.

“He has an excellent reputation,” another offered.

“And the Sarge is taking care of Barrington tomorrow?” a third asked.

“He is,” Asimov said.

Smiles began breaking out. If the Sarge was on the job, then there was no way it could fail.

The Bean Counter rose and raised his glass toward Asimov,and said, “Then I think another toast is in order. To the imminent demise of Stone Barrington.” He drank.

The others did the same.

Asimov smirked, and then motioned to the man guarding the door. “More wine!”

Lauren was at her desk when the Bean Counter returned with Korolev, who had once again been his driver. The Bean Counter motioned for both for them to come into his office.

Lauren shot Korolev a questioning look. He shrugged and they followed their boss inside.

“Close the door,” the Bean Counter said.

Lauren did so.

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