The Lost Throne

when I’m carrying a gun and a fake shield.” Payne recognized the FSB emblem on the badge but assumed it was fake. No way this guy was on active duty. Not without a partner or a radio. “Where I’m from, we call your organization KGB Lite. It’s the KGB minus all that Soviet bullshit.”

Kozlov smiled. It made him look like a rat. “Who is we? CIA?”

“Not a chance. I’m just a tourist.”

“And I am businessman.”

Payne narrowed their distance to ten feet, hoping to read the Russian’s eyes. “In some ways, you are a businessman. Because there’s no doubt in my mind that you got paid a lot of money to kill Byrd. My only regret is that you killed him before I had a chance to chat with him.”

Kozlov considered Payne’s statement. “He was known to you.”

“Of course I knew him. That asshole robbed me blind.” Payne was lying, trying to get extra information from Kozlov. “Same thing with the other investors. He stole millions of dollars from us and hid the money somewhere in Russia. Now, thanks to you, it’s probably lost forever.”

“You say millions?”

“Damn! How hard did I crack your head? Yes, Boris, or whatever your name is. I said millions. Many, many millions. And we don’t know if it’s here, in Moscow, or Siberia.”

Payne glanced over his shoulder, making sure that they were still alone. As far as he could see, the only things moving were the swaying trees and the flowing river.

“Is that why Byrd was killed? Revenge for money?”

“Why are you asking me? You killed the asshole.”

Deep down inside, Kozlov knew only one of them was going to survive this conversation. He knew he had to do something to lure Payne closer. It was the only way he stood a chance, the only way he could use the weapon that Payne hadn’t stolen. In the meantime, if he had to tell Payne the truth about a few things so he would drop his guard, then so be it.

One of them would soon be dead. So what did it really matter?

Kozlov said, “I was told nothing. Find Byrd, kill Byrd. I not know why.”

Payne nodded. “You were paid to kill him and nothing else.”

“Yes, nothing else.”

“If that’s the case,” Payne said as he aimed his weapon, “why did you follow my friend? If your job was to kill Byrd, why are you still hanging around?”

Kozlov grimaced. He preferred being on the other side of the gun. “I was paid to follow Byrd. To learn why he was here. I went to room to learn.”

“Two days after you killed him? No way you waited that long to search his room. You should have jumped on it at once-before the real cops arrived.”

“He use fake name. I find room only today. That is why I follow friend. I see him leave. I see him carry bags. I follow him to learn of Byrd.”

Payne nodded. Everything the Russian said fit the facts of the case. Byrd had been using a fake name. Kozlov did spot Jones when he was leaving Byrd’s suite. And he had followed Jones to see where he was going. All of that made perfect sense.

Unfortunately, there were still some facts that Payne didn’t know, like who had hired the Russian and what was the real reason that Byrd had been killed. But Payne figured those answers would be tougher to acquire. They would require a little more finesse.

“So,” Payne said as he stepped closer, “how much were you paid?”

“Nothing. I have not been paid.”

“Not even a deposit? That sounds like bad business to me. I mean, you’ve already killed Byrd, yet you haven’t made a cent? That’s pretty damn foolish.”

“You no worry about me. Money will be paid when job is done.”

“Tell me, what happens to your money if you never finish the job?”

Kozlov sneered at him. “Are you threatening me?”

“Threatening you?” Payne laughed as he lowered his gun to his side. “I was thinking about hiring you. A man of your skills might come in handy during my search.”

“What you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve got millions of dollars missing-money I won’t be able to find without some help. I know Byrd stashed it somewhere, but I need a Russian to help me track a few leads. Someone who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, if you know what I mean.”

Kozlov stared at Payne, considering his words. “How much you pay me?”

“I was thinking a flat percentage. Let’s say, one percent.”

“One percent? I no work for one.”

“I’m talking millions of dollars here. If we find ten, you’d make a hundred grand. I know damn well you didn’t make that much to kill Byrd.”

“And if we find one million, I make ten thousand. I worth more than that.”

“Touche. Maybe you are a businessman after all.”

Kozlov nodded. He doubted that Payne was telling the truth about any of this, but on the off chance that he was serious, Kozlov wanted to hear as many details as possible-if for no other reason than to lure his opponent even closer.

Right now they were seven feet apart. A few more feet and Kozlov could strike.

Payne continued. “I’ll tell you what I’m willing to do. One percent with a guaranteed minimum of twenty-five thousand. That way, no matter what, you’ll be paid for your time.”

“Minimum of twenty-five? For helping you with search? This is tempting.”

“I thought it would be. Of course for that kind of cash, I need some up-front information. Right here, right now. No bullshit.”

“What information you need?”

“Who hired you to kill Byrd?”

Kozlov smirked. “This is big question.”

“This is big money.”

He nodded. “This is true. How I know you will pay me?”

“The same way I’ll know if you’re telling the truth. Just trust your instincts.”

Kozlov considered this. “In Russia, there is better way. Look man in eye as shake his hand. This is more valuable than promise. This is contract.”

“Fine,” Payne said, only happy to oblige. He moved his gun into his left hand while staring at the Russian. “Let’s shake on it.”

Kozlov nodded and took a tentative step forward.

Payne followed his lead and did the same.

The two of them were four feet apart, just out of each other’s grasp.

As Kozlov stretched his right hand forward, he inched his left hand toward his belt. Made out of black leather, it was held in place by an elaborate silver buckle. Though it looked decorative, the buckle was actually the handle of a sharp dagger. The blade itself was tucked into the leather like a sheath. One simple flick of his wrist, and the weapon would be free of its constraints.

Payne kept his finger on the trigger even though his gun was pointed toward the ground. He reached his right arm toward Kozlov and grabbed his hand with a firm grip. The two men shook, while staring into each other’s eyes. Neither man trusted the other.

Kozlov moved first, extracting his blade with speed and precision. One moment it was in his belt, the next he was thrusting it under Payne’s arm toward his gut.

But Payne had anticipated the maneuver. Using all his strength, he pulled Kozlov’s right hand down and outside, which turned the Russian at a forty-five-degree angle and prevented his knife from striking. Suddenly, Kozlov found himself off-balance and facing away from his opponent. Thinking quickly, he swung his blade behind him, hoping to catch Payne in the ribs or his exposed left shoulder. Instead, the Russian felt his right knee explode as Payne used all his weight to drive his knee into the side of Kozlov’s leg.

The popping sound was so loud that both men could hear it.