"Papa, I've done my research. Sorrello gave me his contacts in Eastern Europe. I talked to a man in Georgia who is working with the government there but is employed by the US."
"Sorrello is less than dependable. I was almost charged in Memphis because of his bumbling. I had to spend a fucking fortune."
"Well, he's come through lately for me. There is no bust. However, there will be surveillance."
"The predecessor of bust."
"I have plan."
Dmitry raised his brow.
Anatoly took a deep breath. "There is minimal surveillance, and were not who they are after. Evidently, the liaison is high on some lists."
"And you want to do business with him."
"Yes. I had some people to ask around and these Spetsnaz are all trying to move the product ASAP. They've been stockpiling it for years. However, it became a little harder to do when Admiral Kurixdov retired. The last of their little operations unit retired last week after twenty years of service in the Russian Navy. This is part of their retirement plan—to sell off what they have been stealing for years. They want to move it fast and get it out of the location that it was in, because evidently without the security clearance of the last man, they can't get to it after next month."
"I've never heard of an unpatriotic Spetsnaz. It's like oxymoron. You are too young to know this, but they were instrumental to Russia during the Cold War. These are true patriots to the country. It's like suggesting there is mole in CIA. And I know there are no moles in the CIA."
"Well a few traitors exist, and they want to do business."
Dmitry shook his head in disgust. Even he had some morals. "And the liaison?"
"Bardzecki has vouched for him. He says the liaison is not a Vor, but he is most reliable."
Dmitry was impressed. This was an once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. However, what his son was asking could be treacherous to his already unstable marriage. If he went back and Royal found out, he would surely face a predicament.
Legally Royal Stone was dead. She had taken the first name of her dead sister, Chloe and was a different woman than the one he married.
If they were forced to divorce, there would be no telling how bitter things could get, especially with Anya added to the equation.
On the other hand, if he did not go and oversee something as large as this deal, his son could get killed or arrested for not knowing what to do and when. The decision would be a hard one no matter what.
He clasped his hands together and thought deeply and silently for a few minutes. Anatoly waited without moving in his chair. He had to have his fathers help. There was no way possible to do this without him.
"What are you going to do about the surveillance again?" Dmitry finally asked with a furrowed brow.
"Well be on yacht, far enough off coastline to be undetected. I know that it sounds simple, but all we have to do is change color of our hair."
Dmitry looked up. "What?"
"The Medlov's are known for our features. They identify us by our blonde hair and blue eyes. For tomorrow night only, we change the color of our hair, just for the cameras. The guy who is doing surveillance works for us."
"I'm seven feet tall. How do you plan to hide that?"
"There is no active investigation. The pictures will be stored, improperly labeled—not used. People will automatically assume that you are… "
Dmitry finished his son's statement. "Ivan."
"Exactly and they'll think it's old footage. I've been assured of it."
Dmitry shook his head. "It's not that I don't trust you, but before I do this, I'm going to have my men check on this."
"I understand, but if you check it out and it's legit, will you do this for me, father?"
Dmitry shook his head. "Yes."
Chapter 5
Upset earlier by Victoria and Dmitry, Royal had taken a valium and crawled into bed before sundown, missing her appointment at the shop and refusing dinner.
Now, in the still darkness of the night, behind the cloak of her heavily covered canopy bed, she flinched through another nightmare, clawing the sheets, sweating and moaning.
Screaming aloud, she popped up shaking and curled her knees up to her chest. Tonight was a different dream. Not about just one but also the other. Without feeling for Dmitry in the large bed, she knew he was not there, but she had to find him.
Jumping out of bed, she slipped on her slippers and bolted out of her door. She ran straight down the long carpeted hall to Anatoly's room and burst through the doors.
Anatoly immediately sat up in the bed, bare-chested and startled. The glimmer of his shiny Glock reflected in the moonlight.
"What's wrong?" he asked, throwing the cover from his legs. Now he wished he had listened to his father and locked the damned door, but he was waiting on Brigitte, who was still at the hospital with her sick mother.
"Where's Dmitry?" she looked around the room.
"Not here," Anatoly said curtly. "Probably in one of the guest bedrooms." He wiped his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked again.
"I need to talk to him," she said absently.
Anatoly rolled his eyes. He stood and up and stretched. "Can we talk for a minute?"
"Not now… "
"Yes, now." Anatoly walked up to her and closed the doors behind them.
"Anatoly, did you not hear what I said? I need to talk to your father."
"I heard you," he said in a huff. "And I just said that I need to talk to you."
"Make it quick," Royal
