The First Billion

"If you want to know where to find Luca's killers, I'll be happy to tell you. Drive north from Moscow on the Petersburg road. Take a turnoff for a place called Svertloe and go east another-"

"Miss Magnus, please-"

"You'll find them near a dirty cabin in a small pine forest. They're dead, I'm afraid. We had to kill them. Do you understand, Mr. Dodson? We had to do your job for you!"

"Miss Magnus, please calm yourself. If you'd like my cooperation, you'll need to compose yourself. Please, ma'am."

But Cate had no more words. She was crying, her breath coming in great big drafts, as if she'd been drowning and needed air. She'd killed someone. She'd ended a life. It didn't matter that the man was trying to kill her. Even now, after everything, she could not summon any enmity toward him. She saw him dodging round the nose of the Suburban, running at the house, his eyes so ambitious, focused, blazing with mission. She had aimed the gun and pulled the trigger and he had fallen dead without uttering so much as a whimper. She could feel her finger tight against the trigger, the gentle, even pleasant bucking of the gun, the dull fireworks as the casings ejected and tinkled onto the cabin floor. The bullets struck him in the chest, in a neat diagonal from spleen to shoulder, and down he went. She was expecting more drama, more blood, a shout, the acknowledgment of his wounds… something to punctuate the loss of a life. But he just fell and stopped moving and his eyes were still open and that was it.

"It was Kirov," she said, gathering herself. "He sent two of his killers to do the job. Check the flights in and out of Florida. You must have the tail number of his plane somewhere. Look for a late Thursday or early Friday arrival and a Friday evening departure." Cate mentioned Boris and Tatiana and offered descriptions of them.

"Konstantin Kirov? You mean Mr. Gavallan's partner?"

"No, I mean Konstantin Kirov, the man that tried to kill us and is hoping to defraud the investing public out of two billion dollars."

"Let me get this straight. Are you saying that Jett Gavallan does not want the Mercury deal to happen?"

"Of course he doesn't want it to come to market. What Ray Luca was saying about Mercury was true, more or less. Jett looked into it and discovered some serious accounting discrepancies. He would never represent a company that wasn't exactly as advertised. Contrary to your screwed-up line of thought, he is not a dishonest man."

Dodson cleared his throat. "I appreciate the information, Miss Magnus. You can be sure we'll look into it. But if you'd like any cooperation from our side, I'm afraid you'll have to come back to the United States. I take it you are in Moscow now?"

"South of it. Hulskvoe. It's a former Red Air Force base." Drumming her nails on the desktop, she managed to slow her breathing and get a grip on herself. "Actually, Mr. Dodson, I want to help you."

"You do?"

"Yes. That is, if you're still interested in jailing Konstantin Kirov for skimming two hundred million dollars from Novastar Airlines?"

"Oh yes, ma'am, we're still very interested in Mr. Kirov. But I think you're mistaken on your figures. Kirov stole a hundred twenty-five million from Novastar."

"No, Mr. Dodson, it's you who are mistaken. I have in my possession Novastar's banking records for the past three years. Every transfer into and out of the company. They're all there. I also have the complete banking history of a company called Andara, and one called Futura. I even have a couple of numbered accounts nobody's ever heard of. I guarantee you, it's enough evidence to see Konstantin Kirov convicted in any court in the world."

"And you're willing to turn this over to the government?"

"I am."

A palm muffled the mouthpiece and Cate could hear Dodson's heated voice summoning someone named Roy. Waiting, she watched Jett climb into the Mig's cockpit and Grushkin take his place next to him. Jett looked more comfortable now, and she found her own nerves settling too. Then she reminded herself that in a little while she would have to take Grushkin's place, and her hard-won repose vanished. Suddenly, the Mig looked very big and very dangerous.

"Miss Magnus, you've piqued my interest," she heard Dodson's voice say. "What is it you want?"

"Just a little help getting home."

"Oh?"

Cate outlined Jett's plan for the next twenty-four hours and how the FBI could help.

"Anything else?" Dodson asked. "Dinner with the President? An audience with the Pope?"

"No, thank you," Cate replied, all business. "That's all." Her sense of humor had deserted her sometime back, probably in a dusky pine clearing in the plains north of Moscow. "Is that a yes?"

It took Dodson a long time to answer.

***