The Rule of Luck, page 6
“Worried it was meant for you?” I couldn’t help asking.
That earned me a grin. “It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”
Once inside, we stood in a regal antechamber. The floor was rich red marble shot through with veins of white, and the walls were covered with large portraits and mirrors framed in gold leaf. Gaudy as all hell, yet it somehow managed to look elegant. My mouth started to water. Maybe lunch wouldn’t be so bad.
A waiter approached. I was the grubbiest person in the room. He bowed, then launched into a stream of Russian. Petriv answered and the waiter bowed again.
“Ah, forgive me,” he said in English. “I didn’t realize.”
I shot a look at Petriv from the corner of my eye. He’d asked the waiter to speak English for my benefit. Part of me couldn’t help but be a little pleased. The other part wanted to berate myself for enjoying the feeling.
“Sir. Madam. The Kremlin is pleased to welcome you,” the waiter continued, a slight trace of Russian accent in his words. Then, it was all Petriv. “Sir, it’s always a pleasure to see you when you’re in Nairobi. Your usual table is waiting for you.”
“Excellent.” To me, “I always feel like I’ve had a little piece of home when I’m here.”
“I need to hit the ladies’ room,” I reminded him before I could be swirled away into this ridiculous fantasy.
The young waiter smiled and nodded. “Follow me,” he said.
I cocked an eyebrow at Petriv. “You don’t think I’ll bolt?”
“I think you’ll consider it, but I’m holding cards far too interesting.”
I shook my head. Damn it. He was right. I was ushered down a hallway and to the door at the end. Once inside the bathroom, I let out the breath I’d been holding. Finally, a second to myself! I locked the door, took care of my immediate business, and proceeded to wash my hands under the gold-plated waterspout. I stopped short at seeing my reflection in the gold-leaf mirror. Saying I looked like shit would have been kind. No makeup. Matted hair no brush could save. Not even rats would feel comfortable spending a night on my head.
I scrubbed at my face, brushed my hair as best I could, and rinsed out my mouth. I had lipstick and powder in my purse so I slapped both on liberally even as I chastised myself. Once again Petriv was seeing me at a complete disadvantage. I’d always prided myself on at least being able to look like I was ready for any situation with the right outfit and the right makeup. Even wearing the right color was often enough to move things in my favor. (The intuitive kicks I got in my gut didn’t hurt either.) While some people could use tech to make temporary modifications to their appearance for things like eye color, skin tone, or even hair texture, I had to compensate the old-fashioned way. It was hard work, but I was good at it thanks to years of practice. Except now; damn it, I couldn’t even do that right! I groaned aloud. Gods, what did it even matter? I wasn’t supposed to care what Petriv thought about how I looked.
I unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. The blond chain-breaker was waiting. Despite his bravado, Petriv hadn’t trusted me after all. I almost laughed out loud, then caught myself. I shouldn’t be getting such a charge from this. Yet there I was, following my familiar patterns—allowing my gut to lead the way and letting what felt right dictate the situation. It felt right to go with Petriv. Forget Roy, my friends, my business partner, even my mother. Right now, being with Petriv was what I most wanted to do. Sometimes, I hated this side of myself, where logic fell by the wayside. I didn’t want to be that person; she got me into trouble. And yet…I could feel myself getting lost in the moment in a way I hadn’t in ages. Being with Alexei Petriv was scary and exhilarating. Everything else in my life felt drab and colorless, and even though I knew it was a horrible thing to do, I couldn’t help but measure Roy against Petriv. How could I not? And Roy, gods help me, was starting to pale in comparison.
I gestured extravagantly down the hall. “Lead the way.”
The move seemed to irritate the giant, and with a jerk of his head indicating I should follow, he marched us back the way we’d come. A few turns later I found myself in a room at the end of a long hallway. I noticed other doors—all closed—and heard muted voices, but hadn’t seen other patrons. Presumably they wanted privacy too.
Petriv and the waiter were there, making idle chitchat in Russian about gods knew what. When they saw me enter, the waiter bowed and backed away.
“I’ll return in a few moments,” he said, then ducked out through the set of sliding doors, which closed behind him.
Unsurprised, I found Petriv and I were the only ones in a small dining room that was about the size of my bedroom. There was an intimate table set for two with wall-mounted candles providing soft lighting. There were no windows and no door other than the one through which our waiter disappeared.
“Well, this is cozy,” I said, voice throatier than I’d intended.
He smiled at me and somehow managed to look innocent and wolfish at the same time. “They know what I like,” he said, and stepped to the sideboard to pour a drink. The liquid was clear. Given all I’d seen so far, I guessed vodka over water. “Something to drink?”
“No, thank you. I’m still feeling the whiskey. No need to add to the mix.”
“Very prudent.” Somehow he made it seem like a tease. That rankled.
“Look, this is all fascinating, but let’s get to the point. If I can do whatever it is you want, I will. And if you see fit to do something about my blacklisted status, even better.”
He walked toward me, stopping a few steps away. I held my ground, refusing to back down. “Not everything needs to be a personal challenge, Ms. Sevigny. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy ourselves while we work.”
I swallowed, nerves kicking in. “I think it’s best if we just stick to why I’m here.”
Another step closer. “Is it always business with you?”
The heat was back in my belly and nudging lower. I wanted to slap myself, if only to snap out of it. I had a boyfriend. Roy. Crime lords were not part of my world, no matter how good-looking, rich, or powerful they might be.
“Honestly, I’d like to forget the last few days ever happened,” I said. He was so close. I could see a smooth expanse of chest through the open-collared shirt he wore, and the blue-black edges of a tattoo. It would be so easy to reach out and see for myself. Dangerous territory, and again I noted how wonderful he smelled. The thought brought me up short as I wondered how badly I stank thanks to my time in the One Gov holding cell. Considering my own disgustingness broke the spell, and I could think again. I glared up at him. “So are we going to eat, or what?”
“Of course.” He stepped away, pulled out a chair, and motioned for me to sit. “By all means, let’s begin. As you say, I only have one hour to convince you.”
My stomach had been growling from the moment we’d entered the restaurant. Petriv arched an eyebrow as he took the chair across from me. He moved with a fluid grace I could probably achieve if I had a hundred years of practice.
“For the record, when I decide to seduce you, you’ll know. I won’t need all this to get the job done.”
I paused in mid-reach for my water glass. “I didn’t say this was a seduction.”
“You were thinking it.”
We were interrupted by our waiter bearing a tray with a soup tureen in its center. Wordlessly, he served up two bowls and set down a basket of warm rye bread. After refilling my water, he left.
“Listen, Mr. Petriv—”
“Please, call me Alexei.”
I tested it out in my head. Alexei. He wanted to make this personal. How personal? Immediately, my imagination assaulted me with a series of hot, intimate thoughts about him that I had absolutely no business having. Hell no. I was not getting into this. “Mr. Petriv, let’s keep this professional. I suspect you came to my shop because you wanted to test me and see if I could handle whatever task you had in mind. I assume I passed, or we wouldn’t be here. I’d appreciate if you’d tell me what’s going on, or I’m going to walk out that door and not look back. I don’t like when people play games with me. After the last few days, I’m at the end of a very short rope.”
He raised his glass to me in a silent toast, then took a sip before he spoke. “You may not be aware of this, but the contract for the Earth-to-Mars transit link has expired with the current carrier, and it will be re-awarded within the next few weeks. At present, two candidates remain in the running. The current carrier, TransWorld, is one. My organization is backing the other.”
“So you want to get a foothold on Mars and Venus and spread the Consortium’s influence?” I couldn’t believe I’d just asked a crime lord to tell me his agenda, but I was in too far to stop now.
“I’m not certain what you’ve heard about me, Ms. Sevigny, but business is business. I acquire. I consolidate. I solve problems.”
“That’s not what the CN-net says.”
His expression hardened and I stilled. I had the feeling whatever he said next would be absolutely deadly.
“The ultimate goals of the Tsarist Consortium are not for you to understand, nor are they up for discussion. I need help. You have the means to give it. Don’t judge what you know nothing about. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I implied otherwise.” I refused to let him see how he’d shaken me. Instead, I ate my soup with all the unconcern I could muster. Better to concentrate on that than his irritation. The first taste just about killed me, the bitterness was so intense. “What is this?”
Bland face from Petriv. “It’s called shchi. It’s a Russian soup, typically served as the first course to any meal. Very good, although it may be an acquired taste.”
I peered into the bowl, spooning its contents. “It tastes like cabbage.” I hated cabbage.
“That and smetana—a heavy sour cream. The Kremlin’s shchi is the best I’ve tasted.”
“I think you and I have different ideas about what constitutes good food.” I stirred the soup, dubious. Good thing I hadn’t wasted precious calories on it. I looked back up at Petriv. His bland face looked like it could potentially become a scowl. Wonderful. First I insulted him personally, then I insulted his culture’s food. Nothing for it but to keep plunging forward. “So, the Consortium wants the contract.”
He took a long swallow from his glass, then gazed into it as if deciding what to say. “Yes, but it will be difficult. TransWorld has a flawless record: zero incidents for the entirety of their five-year contract. When shuttling human cargo between Mars and Earth, the slightest mishap can be catastrophic. For the organization in charge, the result is complete ruin. As admirable as TransWorld’s record may be, our intel suggests their business model is not entirely ethical. If we can expose their methodology as the situation warrants, we win the contract.”
“How does my mother factor into this?”
“She heads TransWorld’s Research and Development department.”
That brought me up short. I rested my spoon in the bowl. “My mother works for TransWorld? I always thought…I mean…This is confusing.”
“In what way?”
I frowned, not sure where to start. “Families have stories and legends. In mine, my parents were the doomed fairy tale. Love at first sight, married within a few weeks of meeting. They applied to the Shared Hope program and had me nine months later. My mother went back to school to finish her geology degree. She received a grant to study the rock formations on Mars. We were all supposed to go. Instead, she supposedly died in a mining accident during a work placement in Chile. My father went crazy at the loss and was declared mentally unstable, and I was raised by my paternal great-grandmother and grandmother.” I stopped there, feeling like I’d reopened a wound I’d believed was already healed. “Why would she lie?”
“I don’t know, Ms. Sevigny.” Petriv put down his glass and met my eyes across the table. “I don’t know why parents do the things they do to their children.”
I looked away, afraid I would cry—the last thing I wanted to do in front of him. I picked up my spoon again, promptly fumbled it, and then watched as it bounced across the table and onto the floor, splattering soup on the red linen tablecloth. Mortified, I leaned down to pick it up. Petriv caught my wrist, stopping me.
“Leave it. You don’t approve of it anyway. It’s no loss.” He pushed the bread basket toward me.
His kindness unnerved me. Crime lords weren’t supposed to be kind. Kindness might make me think he was a real human being. I took a slice of bread and tried to recover. “What does my mother do for TransWorld?”
“Monique is one of the world’s leading geneticists and was once at the forefront of Modified Human research. I need to unravel how TransWorld applies her work to their transit program.”
“Space travel and genetics don’t seem like they go together.”
“No? What if it were easier for humans to travel through the tri-system? Right now, our reach goes no farther than Jupiter. What if we were better able to survive the cold vacuum of space? Suppose we could enter self-sustained hibernation for weeks or months at a time? We could extend our grasp to the outer edge of the solar system. Her research looks into all these aspects and more, I suspect.”
Shit, my mother was a genius. Could that explain why she’d left? I tried to imagine such a woman thriving in my tech-averse family and couldn’t. But to fake an accident to get away?
“If her research saves lives, how is that a bad thing?”
He shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid I’ve made it sound nobler than it truly is. It’s not the lives they’re saving that concern me, but how they’re achieving those ends. My priority is to expose TransWorld’s actions and eliminate them as a contender for the contract. I believe you’re the key. I just need to discover what door you unlock.”
“You can’t ask me to destroy everything she’s worked for. I want to get to know her first, then decide.”
“You may not like what you find.”
I tilted my head and studied him, puzzled. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He smiled ruefully and offered a shrug. “We Russians love our tragedies. We embrace our sorrows, then we fight our way free. My hope is you will feel the same.” He sipped his drink and met my eyes.
I fought not to drown in his blue gaze. “Tell me.”
“It’s because of your mother that you’re on the no-child list. Through her direct influence, you’ve been blacklisted from the Shared Hope program. And to change that, you may have to go to extreme lengths.”
I opened my mouth. No sound came out. I tried again. “Extreme lengths?”
“Unfortunately, yes. When you learn the truth, you may have to kill her.”
Chapter Five
I sat in my chair for quite a while. Not moving. Not thinking. Just waiting for the punchline, or for the other shoe to drop. Yet when he merely looked at me over the rim of his glass, I knew there was no punchline to this particular joke.
“I’m sorry. I think I misheard you,” was the safest thing I could think to say.
Petriv set down his drink. “No, you didn’t. But that would be the worst possible scenario, and not my objective. Any move in that direction would jeopardize the award process and delay my future plans. We want to investigate TransWorld and we only have two weeks until the contract is awarded. After the two weeks, you and I will part ways. You will be paid for your time and your blacklisted status will be revoked. Once we come to terms, I will provide you with the documentation I have in my possession, which should answer any questions you have regarding your mother.”
“Hold on! First you say my mother’s responsible for my blacklisted status and now you want to talk business like it’s not a huge issue? You can’t lay this on me and not expect me to react.”
“Agreed, but you’ve limited our lunch to an hour. I apologize if that has caused my powers of persuasion to include high drama and threats.”
Fuck. He’d torn the ground out from beneath me once again. I took a breath and fought to get myself back on track. I could freak out later on my own time.
“I appreciate your candor. I still don’t know what I can do for you. If she hasn’t contacted me in over twenty years, I can’t see why she’d take an interest now that I’ve been approached by the leader of the Tsarist Consortium.”
“I’m flattered you think so, but I’m not entirely in charge. At least, not yet.” His tone was light, but I heard an edge to his voice. All was not well in the Red Mafia. “At this juncture, what’s important is your card reading skills. That will open doors to places I can’t enter.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
He smiled. “Not everyone is as enamored of me as I wish they were.”
“So you want to show me off at parties?”
“One particular party. It’s hosted by a member of TransWorld’s Board of Directors, which is the prime reason I can’t get inside. Other key employees will also be in attendance—not your mother, but someone who reports to her. That employee needs to be discredited, which you will do with a reading. Without him, she’ll lose control of her most valuable resource.”
“I don’t do fake readings. What the cards say, they say. My reputation is all I have and I’ve worked hard to build it.”
“And how would the news you were arrested at the fertility clinic help your reputation? News that took an enormous amount of resources to scrub from the CN-net, I might add.”
I scowled at him. “Don’t twist the situation. Besides, you may not get your desired outcome. Anything I see in the cards could take months to occur. If you want fast results, this probably isn’t the best way to get them.”
“We’ll play the situation by ear. What I have in mind may not need to be so dramatic.”
“I thought you liked drama.”
His lips quirked in a smile that let loose a storm of butterflies in my stomach. “Touché, Ms. Sevigny. Read your cards as you see fit.”
