Savage Recruit (Ryan Savage Thriller Series Book 8), стр. 48
Everything was going as planned. The only hiccup that had brought a brief damper was Mikhail texting Florin an hour ago, apologizing for not being able to make it to the party after all. Florin had wanted Mikhail standing beside him when he made the announcement, when he showed off his prize, but no matter. The night would go on.
Still, he felt restless, anxious. He was about to meet Simon Luganov face to face. He would shake his hand, offer him a drink, and then after presenting him to his guests, he would have his men escort Luganov off the boat and usher him to his new lab in Romania. If he refused to work, if he refused to continue his research, then Florin already had sufficient means of motivation lined up.
Guests continued to arrive, slowly making their way up the passerelle and finding their way to him to compliment his yacht or to tell him how they were looking forward to hearing his announcement.
He had just placed his empty glass on a passing tray when a bright shock of color caught his eye. A lady stepped off the passerelle and moved gracefully toward the salon. It was her dress that had gained his attention—a bright yellow evening gown. Absolutely striking. Other than the red in his cravat, her dress was the only color in the crowd. Curled brown locks bounced delicately on her shoulder.
Florin did not see her board with anyone. She appeared to be alone. Smiling to himself, he picked his way through the crowd and entered the salon. She was at the bar, her back to him. Florin took a moment to allow his gaze to linger on the long curve of her leg, displayed as it was by the long slit in the side of her dress.
He started toward her but was stopped by a man whose name he had forgotten and who proceeded to pitch him a new investment opportunity in the green energy sector. “Yes,” Florin said absently, not taking his eyes off the lady. “Let me catch you later this evening, We can speak then.” Not waiting for a reply, he moved off. By the time he made it to the most beautiful item on his boat, she was sipping a dirty martini.
He stepped beside her, motioned to the bartender for a drink, and quietly cleared his throat. “Hello,” he said. “I do not believe we have met.”
She chuckled softly, took a long sip from her glass, and turned toward him.
Florin’s smile faltered, then faded altogether. He stumbled over his words. “What—how—?”
“Go on.”
He tried forcing a smile, but it wouldn’t come. The best he could offer was a stupidly blank expression. “It—it has been a long time. What—what are you doing here?”
“You mean, why am I no longer locked in a room at Vasilly’s house? Why am I even still alive?”
The smile came now, smooth and self assured. Inside his chest, however, Florin’s heart was thumping like a broken jackhammer. “Kathleen, what are you talking about?”
“Cut the crap, Florin.”
The bartender placed a drink on the bar in front of him. He ignored it.
“It was a brilliant plan,” Kathleen said. “It really was. But it failed.” She drained her drink and turned fully to face him. “You’re going away for a very long time. You can say goodbye to this yacht, your money—everything. My free time will now be spent writing emails to the Department of Justice, making sure that you get the entire book.”
Florin’s forehead was glistening with sweat now. He opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him.
“Turn around, Florin.”
“What?”
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He smirked. “What, are you going to arrest me? Please.”
“Turn around,” an accented voice growled behind him.
Florin whipped around to see Simon Luganov standing before him.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Luganov said. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He brought up a hand and slapped Florin hard across the face. The sound of flesh slapping flesh filled the entire salon. The guests froze and set their worried expressions on their host. Luganov leaned in and hissed in Florin’s ear. “That was for killing my dog, you bastard.”
As Florin stood there with his cheek burning, Kathleen behind him and an angry Luganov in front of him, it occurred to him why Mikhail had decided not to come. Somehow, he had gotten word that the plan had fallen apart. Florin huffed to himself. Mikhail had saved his own tail and hadn’t even bothered to warn him.
Luganov’s eyes bore down. “You will never get into my brain. No one will. What I know will die with me. It is exactly because of people like you that I defected in the first place.” He shook his head angrily. “I need a drink.” He walked off, and Florin turned back to Kathleen.
“Vasilly gave you up,” she said. “The game is over.”
Florin swallowed hard. He hadn’t seen this coming. Not at all. And now that he was here, he felt naked, exposed, and words would not come.
A tall man with intelligent, icy blue eyes stepped up beside Kathleen. He, like everyone else, was wearing a tuxedo. He gave Florin a polite nod. “Mr. Gronozav, I am Agent Ryan Savage with Homeland Security.” He motioned behind Florin. “And that there is Captain Piero Romano with the Naples police department. He is going to arrest you and then transfer you into U.S. custody.” He clapped a hand on Florin’s shoulder. “Smile. You’re going to America.”
Florin did not have a chance to respond before strong hands grabbed his wrists and he felt cold steel clamp down around them.
It was a good plan, he thought. But when he looked into Kathleen's face as they led him away, he suddenly was no longer sure.
Every eye in the place watched with a mixture of concern and