Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel by Janet Evanovich(38)

The smile was back. “Yes! Very, very rich.”

“How did you make all your money?”

“Vodka,” he said. “I makes the best.”

I glanced over at Ranger and smiled. Jackpot.

“Do you know that man?” Leo asked.

“He’s a friend of the family,” I said.

“He look like a bad man.”

“He has his moments.”

No sound came over the earbud from Ranger, but I thought I sensed him smile.

“Are you staying at this hotel?” I asked Leo.

“Yes. It close to the consulate building where will take place the meetings. There is party soon.”

“I love parties,” I said.

“This a good one. They serving my vodka.” He looked at his watch. “I should be going.”

Damn! I was losing him. I put my hand on his leg. “That’s too bad. We were just getting to know each other.”

“It no will be long,” he said. “Two hours.”

My hand moved an inch closer to a place I really didn’t want to go, and I leaned forward to give him a better look at the girls. “My friend has to leave, and I would be here all alone.”

“I would stay but this important party.”

Good grief, this guy was dense! “I could go with you,” I said. “And then we can have our own private party when we come back to the hotel.”

His eyes opened wide. “Yes! That is perfect plan.”

“Last week I met a Russian named Vlatko,” I said. “Do you know any men named Vlatko?”

“Vlatko is much common name in Russia.”

“This man had an unusual tattoo on his neck. And he might only have one eye.”

“I know a Vlatko what has his initials tattooed on forehead,” Leo said. “This must be different Vlatko.”

“Have you been inside the consulate building already?”

“Only for the short times yesterday. I went to register.” He signed the tab over to his room and got off the barstool. “What about family friend?”

“Maybe he could come to the party with us. He loves vodka.”

“I guesses that would be okay. He isn’t going to have the party with us after, is he?”

“Not unless you want him to. He’s gay, you know.”

“He doesn’t look gay.”

“Of course he does. His skin is flawless and his haircut is perfect. And look at his slacks. Not a single wrinkle.”

“How does he do that?” Leo asked. “I always get the wrinkles.”

We stopped at Ranger’s table and invited him to join us at the party. He dropped some money on the table and stood.

Leo stared at Ranger’s slacks and gave me a sideways glance of acknowledgment. No wrinkles.





SEVENTEEN


THE MAN AT the consulate door checked Leo’s invitation, and there was a brief conversation.

“No problems,” Leo said to me. “You and your friend comes in. I very important vodka magnate.”

The party was being held in a large room on the ground floor. The room was decorated in reds and golds. Oriental rugs. Antique-looking furniture in dark woods and brocaded fabrics. Very formal. Waiters in white shirts and black slacks were passing appetizers. A bar with two bartenders was set up at the far side of the room.

People were pouring in from the street. The men were in suits, and the women were in cocktail dresses. Average age for the men was fifty. More difficult to assess the women. It looked to me like a lot of the women were mid-level to high-end hookers. I figured I fit into the mid-level range.

Leo tugged me over to the bar. “You see bottle with red label? That is my vodka. You must drink some.”

Ranger had already wandered off on his own to snoop through the five floors. I was left with the vodka king.

“It’s a pretty bottle,” I said.

“It made in China. They makes the best bottles. They add lead to make sparkle.” He took two glasses of vodka from the bartender and passed one to me. He chugged his, and I sipped at mine. It burned all the way down, and I felt like my sinus cavities were on fire.

“Smooth,” I said.

His eyes fixed on my bulging breasts. “Like mother’s milk.”

“Yep, that’s what I was thinking.” I looked around. “Do you know any of these people?”

His eyes were still focused on my chest. “I knows some of them. It is small world where is Russian vodka makers.”

“If you’d like to talk to some of the people here, I’ll be fine on my own. I’ll just stay here and drink vodka.”

“I should do this,” he said. “Do not go away. I haves big plans. Leo that kind of guy. I much known to be big.”

“Good to know.”

He stepped away, and I checked in with Ranger. “Where are you?” I asked him.

“Third floor. Checking my email. Don’t drink too much vodka.”

“Just trying to increase my lead consumption. Over and out.”

I had the bartender swap out my vodka for water, and I drifted around the room, eavesdropping. No one seemed especially interested in talking to me, but everyone stared at my chest. The women studied me with critical eyes. No doubt making surgical comparisons. The men smiled their approval. I didn’t have the biggest breasts in the room, but I think I had the most enthusiastic. Almost everyone was speaking Russian, so I wasn’t doing great in the information gathering department. I refrained from snacking on the appetizers that were being passed, just in case Vlatko had a grudge against vodka salesmen.