American Assassin

Chapter 38
MOSCOW, RUSSIA

IVANOV placed the handset back in the cradle and reached for the glass of vodka. It was snatched from his grasp a split second before his hand got there. His fingers closed and found air. He blinked several times before looking up and seeing Shvets holding the glass. "Mine," was all he could manage to say.

Shvets wanted to tell him he spoke like a toddler when he was drunk, but it would do no good at this point. "What did he say?"

"He has no idea."

"Your sure?" Shvets should have listened on the extension. When his boss got like this he was extremely unreliable.

"What's there to be sure about?" He pushed himself away from his desk and leaned back in his high-back leather chair. "The man is a camel jockey. He is not smart enough to steal this money from us."

Shvets would have loved nothing more at this exact moment than to tell his alcoholic boss that Sayyed was smarter than him, but he'd seen him shoot people for such insolence. "I should go to Hamburg?"

"No. I need you here. Send Pavel."

Now there was an idiot, Shvets thought. Pavel Sokoll was fine with numbers and balance sheets, but borderline retarded when it came to everything else in life. Sending him to Hamburg would get them nowhere. "We need answers, and I'm afraid sitting here will not get us any. Sending Pavel will only add to the confusion. You won't allow me to discuss this with anyone other than you or Pavel, so getting those answers is going to be very difficult."

"But I need you here."

"There will be no 'here' in a few days," he said with some force. "Once word gets out that the money is missing the phone will start ringing and sooner or later it will be kicked upstairs, or worse across town, and once that happens, they will pull you in."

"Us! You mean us!" he half screamed. "Your wagon is hitched to mine."

"Trust me, a minute doesn't pass that I don't think of it."

"And I have been good to you."

"Yes, you have," Shvets said halfheartedly.

"And I will continue to take care of you. We just need some answers."

"What we need is money," he said, trying to get Ivanov to see the fundamental problem. "Answers might lead us to the money, but we will not get those answers sitting here in Moscow."

"Stop speaking in riddles."

"Just let me go to Hamburg and see what I can find out. I will fly out tonight, and if all goes well, I'll be back on the first flight in the morning."

"And what am I going to do?"

Shvets's solution was suddenly very clear. "Go out and get drunk. Order up some women and go to Hotel Baltschug."

Ivanov frowned. He was in no mood to socialize.

"You must keep up appearances. You know how this town is. If rumors start that you are in trouble and no one sees you in public they will believe the rumors. If they see you out acting as if everything is normal they won't believe the rumors." Shvets was willing to say almost anything to convince him. Sitting here in this office was getting them nowhere. He'd seen his boss in these funks before. Usually only for a day or two. Always a pity party, but somehow the heaps of despair and recrimination eventually focused him, and he came out of it like a bear ready to charge. And when that happened, Shvets had better have a better understanding of what had happened, or he could end up being the casualty.

He suggested, "Bring Alexei and Ivan. They will make sure you are taken care of."

Yes, Ivanov thought. My two Luca Brasis. No one would dare challenge me with them as my companions. Ivanov felt better just thinking of his two loyal soldiers, and besides, some flesh might be the remedy for his dismal attitude. And he wanted a drink. "Fine," he relented, "but I want you to call me as soon as you hear something."

Shvets turned tentative. They'd done enough talking on the phones today, and in this new era of electronic surveillance, there was no telling who was listening. "I promise," he lied as he started for the door. "And remember ... act like nothing has changed tonight."