The Silent Sisters (Charles Jenkins #3)(91)

“I have just one of the shipments.”

“One? It looks like two to me, Viktor.”

“This is Arkhip. He is an associate of mine.”

“You are taking on partners now, are you, Viktor? Business must be good. I heard you left the FSB and are working on your own. What about me? Why am I not your partner?”

“We have lost one of the cargo,” Federov said.

“‘We’?” The Fly rolled from the raft into waist-deep water and stepped from the pool. A man handed him a large white robe and another green energy drink. “I did not lose anything, Viktor. Your job was to deliver the cargo. My job was to transport it. That was the deal, was it not?”

“That was most certainly the deal, Plato. And I do not want to take advantage of our friendship.”

Plato chuckled. “But you’re going to do so anyway, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid so. It seems the Velikayas have taken an interest in our cargo and picked him up at the train station.”

The Fly lowered his sunglasses and looked at Viktor over the rims. “The Velikayas?”

“Yes.”

After a beat, the Fly said, “You always were a good chess player, Viktor.” He led them to the shade beneath an awning and invited them to sit in plush outdoor furniture. Another man handed the Fly a plate of gigantic shrimp and put a glass bowl of cocktail sauce on the table. The Fly dipped one of the shrimp into the sauce and ate it to the tail. “Are you bluffing, Viktor, to gain my favor?”

“I would never play you, Plato, unless it was straight up.”

“This I know. The Velikayas have come into my backyard without asking my permission. Who is it?”

“I don’t know for certain, but I am told that Yekaterina has taken a particular interest in the capture of this man.”

The Fly’s eyes widened. He stopped in mid-dunk of a second shrimp, leaving the tail protruding from the cocktail sauce. “Who is this man, Viktor? You told me he was CIA.”

“He is most certainly CIA, Plato, or at least in their employ.”

The Fly sipped his energy drink and set it down on a silver platter. “For Yekaterina to return to Siberia uninvited after so many years, this man must be very important. Why does she want him?”

“She believes, wrongly, that this man killed her son, Eldar.”

It was clear from the flat expression on Plato’s face that he was well aware of the news. “Did he?”

“No,” Mishkin said. Federov turned his head at the sound of the chief investigator’s voice, dismayed by the intrusion.

“And you are again?” the Fly asked.

“Arkhip Mishkin. I am an associate of Mr. Federov.”

“What do you know about the death of Eldar Velikaya?”

Mishkin filled in the Fly on the details of his investigation, but deftly, careful not to use that term or indicate police involvement.

“And why do you know so many intimate details of this murder, Mr. Mishkin?”

Federov started to jump in, hopefully before Mishkin stepped in a pile of dog shit and found himself sitting before a large bowl of flies.

Mishkin, however, spoke first. “Please, call me Arkhip, Mr. Fly.”

The Fly glanced at Federov out of the corner of his eyes while Mishkin continued. “Mr. Federov asked that I inform him fully. I took that responsibility seriously and used all of our contacts to obtain the information I have provided you.”

Federov had to give Mishkin his due. He’d handled it well, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Why did you not tell me of this potential complication, Viktor?” the Fly asked.

“I did not learn the details until a short while ago. Besides, I did not think the Velikayas would have the temerity to come into Siberia without first seeking your permission, Plato.”

“Don’t placate me, Viktor. It is unbecoming.” The Fly thought for a few moments, then said, “This man, and what he is accused of, is no business of mine. I have no desire to get involved. Get him here and I will ship him. That was the deal. Otherwise, she goes alone.” He rescued the second shrimp from the sauce and popped it into his mouth.

“I understand,” Federov said. “It’s just that . . .”

The Fly leaned forward for a third shrimp but stopped and considered Federov, again over the top of his sunglasses. “It’s just what, Viktor?”

“I just wonder what the other families in Siberia will think when they learn the Velikayas came into Irkutsk without permission or repercussions.”

The Fly leaned back in his chair and stared at Federov for what felt like a full minute.

Peanut, standing off to the side, said, “It may make us look weak, Plato.”

The Fly shifted his gaze to his brother, then back to Federov. “As I said, you were always a competitive chess player.” He gave Federov a hard stare before smiling, then laughed. “Make me look weak? Hardly. What is it you really want? Why is this man important to you, Viktor?”

“This man is a friend of mine, Plato. He has done me several favors in my lifetime and, as my associate has detailed for you, he is innocent. I want to get him back for his wife and his children.”

“When did you get to be sentimental, Viktor? It is unbecoming.”

“Perhaps, but possibly lucrative for you.”