He grunted. “I think your words are…the right words. Because of that, I’ll give you the reason I think Dagan’s life keeps you in my pocket. He was your world, and you’re a woman.”
She allowed a mirthless chuckle to escape. “You noticed.”
Dresden sat up straight at that. “I notice a lot of things, Banning. That’s why I’m on top. I noticed that your flat in Sarajevo mysteriously blew up after the sale to Segorski went through. I noticed that sixteen men were found dead in or around Sarajevo in a matter of hours after that explosion. I noticed that you entered my home a day later and immediately poured yourself a whiskey neat, which by the way is also Jude Dagan’s favorite drink, and I noticed that now your pupils are dilated in fear.”
“There’s a point to this conversation. Can we get to it?”
He laughed then. It was evil. “You always seek to hide behind whatever persona you feel I need from you. I let you because it amuses me. The point is this: Dagan controls you because he lives. And because I like having a way to control Dagan, I keep you alive and doing my bidding.”
Ella should have felt fear. It was true her pupils had dilated, but it wasn’t with apprehension. It was with rage. Dresden thought he had her figured out. He thought he knew. It took her a few seconds to control herself, to not snap the stem of her glass and shove it in his right eye. Or the left. Either would work. She continued to breathe through her nose, not rushing her breaths, keeping them even and controlled. She had a goal. She could do this. He held her wrist, gauging her pulse no doubt, and she managed to control even that.
She had become ice cold.
She hated herself.
“I would clap for your keen sense of observation, but you’re holding my hand. I will grant you instead mental applause for the way you’ve managed to manipulate every situation to your advantage. Good job, Dresden.”
“It is all a game to you, isn’t it?” He huffed, sounding like a petulant child. “I broke you, and still you come at me like it’s all a goddamn game. Tell me, do you really no longer feel anything for Jude Dagan?”
She had one shot at this. If she said no, he’d eliminate Jude. If she said yes, he’d eliminate Jude. “I don’t feel. You removed the ability. I work. I succeed. Dagan is a way for you to control Endgame? Okay. Keep the Keeper on the line. But if you think that either eliminating him or keeping him alive gives you control of me, you’re wrong.”
“I let Vasily work you too long,” he said mournfully. “You’ve become a puppet.”
She glanced at him dismissively. “Is that not what you wanted?”
He stood then, and she held herself still. “It’s not your concern what I wanted.”
His phone rang, and he answered it. “Speak.” His face reddened, and his gaze went flat. “Kill him.”
Ella’s heart stuttered.
“I don’t care if his daughter is in the car. Destroy him.” He hung up and threw the phone across the room, shattering it against the marble floor.
Not Jude. Not this time. She hated herself for the relief she felt.
Dresden walked to the entry of the dining room and turned back to Ella. “I want you in Moscow tomorrow. Crimea is mine until I say otherwise. Make sure Segorski and Markov stay in line. And, Ella? If Dagan doesn’t keep his fucking nose out of my business, it won’t matter to me if he’s a way to control Endgame. Ultimately, Endgame will be mine, just like you, and I don’t need Dagan to make that happen.”
“I don’t control Jude Dagan,” she countered. She needed to throw him a bone. “And I’ll say again, he is no longer my concern.”
“Good. Make sure it stays that way. The jet will be ready for you when you’re ready to travel. Meet with Svetlana Markov when you arrive, and she’ll fill you in on the specifics. Ella?”
She met his gaze.
“I control Svetlana Markov as I control you.”
“And how is that, Dresden?”
“Completely,” he dropped into her silence, and then he left her with a small, triumphant laugh.
She drained her wine and motioned to the mute server in the corner to refill it. Then she drained that one too. She was a long way from drunk but wished she were safe enough to engage that state.
She had no idea how much longer she could do this with Dresden. Though every interaction with him brought her closer to the information she needed before she took him down, each meeting with him, each conversation, left her deadened on the inside. Hiding herself from his keen gaze took a measure of skill she’d had no choice but to perfect. But it took its toll on her soul. She was losing herself.
This conversation had given her Svetlana Markov, wife of Yevgeny Markov and apparently as deep in Dresden’s pockets as Ella herself was.
She closed her eyes and let the last drop of wine slip down her throat. Black eyes taunted her. She had it all, and she’d walked away from it because the evil that was Horace Dresden could eat up the world and spit it out irreparably broken. He’d set into motion deals all over the world that would disrupt the economies of every major power. The few would be in control of the many, and the many would suffer because of it.
Her country would be the first to fall—all because of greed. Dresden had been right; she was a puppet. One of many. And he wasn’t the only puppet master, because someone was pulling his strings too—and that’s who she needed.
Endgame thought Dresden was the top of the pyramid, but
