It was business. Good business. Big business. That was all. Tsernyakov hung back. He didn’t feel responsible for the astounding number of deaths that would result. That was the School Board’s problem, their deal.
He had killed when it was necessary, in the beginning. Now he had people who took care of that kind of unpleasantness in his life. Large-scale murder, however, held no appeal for him. It brought no money and got everyone in law enforcement after you. The concept of killing hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of people for esoteric principles, without an ounce of profit, seemed plain stupid.
He looked at the men, but was thinking of his next meeting already. Business was exhilarating, and he took it very seriously. But the spice of life was seducing beautiful women.
What these idiots did had nothing to do with him. His role was to get the virus and collect the money. He took a last look at the men then walked out of the room, leaving Dmitry to finish up.
The two bodyguards outside the door followed him to the private elevator that worked with a key, one floor up to the very top where his private office and apartment were.
He walked to the apartment, nodded to the men to stay outside the door. He punched in the security code and walked in.
“Alexandra.”
The young woman flew into his arms—all grace and loveliness already at twenty. She’d lost a little weight, but even so…Grief looked good on her. It gave her fresh beauty a haunting quality that hadn’t been there before. Like good art, she was becoming multidimensional.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, still pressed against him.
She thought of him as an uncle. He would work to change that. He didn’t want to take her by force, although he would if she frustrated him too much. He preferred seduction. He was a romantic at heart. He enjoyed making women fall in love with him, the power of that, specifically because it was different from the power he held over his men, over his business associates.
“How are you? What can I do to make you happy?” he asked.
“When will I go home?”
“You are not comfortable here?” He made a point to look hurt.
“I don’t want to be a burden. I should arrange…I should take care of…” She didn’t seem to be able to finish the sentence.
“I’m handling your father’s affairs. Peter was my friend. It’s the least I can do.” He ran his hand down her back, glad that he had sent a man to pull her at the last second. She’d been told to go see the new puppies in the back of the factory yard while her parents discussed business. Then she was whisked to safety after the terrible accident.
“Thank you.” Her luminous violet eyes teared up. “I would love to stay a few more days.”
“Maybe you should stay longer.” He schooled his features into a somber look.
“What is it?” She watched him, catching his change of mood.
If she was this quick a study as a lover, he was going to be very happy with her.
He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t—You don’t need any more worries right now.”
“Please,” she pleaded. “Is this about my parents?”
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. “That accident at the factory…”
“Yes?” She waited breathless, her lips slightly parted.
His body stirred. “I’m starting to think it might not have been an accident.”
She watched him with big round eyes and swayed a little. He was happy to support her.
“Somebody meant to kill them?” she asked finally.
“I’m not sure. Either them or me.” He stopped for a meaningful pause. “The pressure valve blew too early maybe. I was supposed to join them in a few minutes.” He shook his head then shrugged as if the possible threat to his own life was of no consequence. “In any case. I want to keep you safe until I figure out what’s going on.” His voice implied that he had the investigation well in hand.
She nodded, looking stunned and numb, but ethereally beautiful. He maneuvered her to the sprawling leather sofa with ease.
Chapter Three
“You must have been wondering what your mission is going to be.”
Brant Law stood at the head of a training room that was smaller, but much better furnished, than the prison classroom where the women had first met him. Tarasov and Moretti stood to the side, tension making the mood in the room brittle.
He turned to the desk that held his laptop and started a presentation, projecting his slides to the white screen on the wall. The first image was of a rectangle with a shadow of a man’s profile with a big question mark over it.
“Your target is someone who has managed to elude law enforcement for the last twenty years. He has no known picture. We haven’t been able to narrow his location to as much as a country. We don’t know his first name, or exactly how old he is.”
“So what do you know?” Gina spoke up.
The four women were together again. That she wasn’t completely alone in this mess made Carly feel slightly better, although she was far from trusting any of the people in the room. With her basic training over, she was allowed to spend most of her time in the computer lab while Nick was making mincemeat of the other women on the training course. She only saw him twice a day now. They ran together in the morning then did an hour of self-defense, and he continued her introduction to various guns for an hour each afternoon.
She was catching up with what she’d missed in information technology over the years, planning her disappearance, looking up some distant family on the Internet. She hadn’t contacted anyone to tell them that she was out. She never would, most likely. At the moment, not being able to discuss the mission, all she could tell them would be lies. And later, when she broke free, contact with anyone from her old life might lead law enforcement to her.
Her family had never been close. Her mother hadn’t kept in touch with her father’s side after his death. And since her mother was the only child of parents who had no siblings themselves, the pickings were all around slim for family reunions.
Anita and Gina had been allowed to call their families the first day they had arrived at the training facility, to tell them that they were out and involved in some kind of readjustment program where for a while they couldn’t be reached. They’d had visitors in prison who had to be told something. Sam had nobody, no clue where she came from, no memories of her life before she came to be living on the streets.
“We know him as Tsernyakov,” Law said as he pointed to the shadow outline. “But we’re not sure if that’s his real name. He is one of the biggest illegal weapons dealers in the world. We suspect he might have had some position in the old communist government in the USSR, might have been in the military—his access to large amounts of decommissioned weaponry points that way. He has ‘ears’ in every branch of law enforcement of just about every country. He has unlimited access to money. He is ruthless. If he thinks someone crossed him, he doesn’t wait for proof. He kills on first suspicion.”
“So you want us to do what? Take him out?” Gina asked.
Carly was taken aback as much by the question as by Gina’s casual tone. Anita’s hand flew to her throat.
“Getting a location on him would be enough.”
“Why us?” The question escaped Carly, spurred by suspicion. “I mean, even if you teach us everything you know, which is probably not possible, you still have tons more experience. Why not you, a commando team or the FBI?” Not that the setup didn’t sound intriguing—a lot like one of her favorite video games, which she hadn’t played in ages.
“As