ST. PETERSBURG, RUSSIA
SATURDAY, 1:32 P.M. MOSCOW STANDARD TIME (6:32 A.M. EST)
Still no word from Mikey?’
“No, boss,” said the Greek. The former Olympic boxer had not made it through the first round in the 2004 Athens Games, but he still knew how to throw a punch. “Nothing from Mikey.”
“He’s dead,” said the Bear. He was sitting in his desk chair, grooming his beard with a gold-plated comb.
“No one ever found a body,” said the Greek, who was sitting on the white leather couch and fiddling with a thick gold chain around his neck. “We’ll keep searching, boss. Maybe he’ll turn up.”
“No. Michael is gone.” The Bear checked his face in a compact mirror and slid the comb into a desk drawer. “You’re promoted, Nico.”
The Greek sat forward and dug his elbows into his knees. “You want me to find the bitch?”
The Bear considered his next move.
“You want me to hunt down this Queen Sheba?” the gangster asked, spinning a chunky ring on one hand. “Boss, you want her head in a box? Delivered right here? Just say the word.”
“What about New York?”
“Holden was arrested by the FBI. Harvey is done. Finished. But don’t worry, boss. We’ve got another man in New York ready to take his place. The business won’t even notice he’s gone. The only question is what you want me to do about Holden. Say the word, and the minute he steps inside Rikers Island . . .” The Greek drew a finger across his throat.
The Bear slumped back into his chair. “What’s our business, Nico?”
“Money.”
The Bear shook his head.
“Power?”
The Bear stared at the Greek with disappointment.
“Blood?”
“Mother Russia,” said the Bear. “We serve the motherland. That’s our business.”
“Yes, boss. If you say so.”
The Bear walked to the picture window. “The water of the Neva River, can you see it? It flows from where I drank my mother’s milk, through our glorious city, to the world. Everyone drinks from Mother Russia, but no one is aware. The Neva flows silently from me to everyone. I am everywhere, Nico.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Harvey Holden can’t tell them anything,” the Bear shook his head. “He doesn’t know anything. The American government doesn’t know anything.”
“Letting Holden live makes us look weak, boss. Let me deal with him. He’ll be leaving jail feet first. Or without a head.”
The Bear exhaled and then gave a subtle nod.
“And the bitch?”
“You’ll never find Queen Sheba,” the Bear laughed.
“She killed Mikey. You going to let her get away with that?”
“You’ll never find her, Nico.” He shook his head. “And if you did, you’d be lucky to get out alive.”
“I can do it, boss. I will get Queen Sheba for Mikey. I’ll get her for you. I want to do it.”
“I need you to deal with our Chinese problem. We can’t leave Moscow waiting any longer. Control your emotions. This is about business, not revenge.”
“Yes, boss. Whatever you say.”
“You deal with the Chinese,” he said with a wave.
“I will. Right away.” The Greek stood up.
The Bear watched his new lieutenant depart with a restored sense of order. Mikey had vanished, but now he had the Greek. His New York connection was gone, but that, too, was easily replaceable. There was no shortage of corruptible bankers in New York and London. The Chinese problem would go away once they found a new assassin. Moscow would be happy. The empire would expand. Mother Russia would be served. The Americans wouldn’t be any wiser. He would become even more powerful.
Then the Bear made one more decision. The Greek was right about one thing. He had to hunt down Queen Sheba.