After Billy left, the side door opened and Shavik strode in.
“You heard everything?” Arkov opened the envelope, handed it over.
“I heard.” Shavik examined the contents, then tossed the envelope on the table. “Lane’s widow is up to something by going to Dubrovnik. She’s got to be.”
“But what?”
“The big question.”
“There was a knock on the office door and Arkov went to open it. Shavik’s bodyguard Dobrashin stood there, a locked briefcase in his hand.
“For you, boss.”
He took it, and the bodyguard left.
Arkov crossed to behind his desk and took out a harmless-looking slim metal rod hidden in a compartment in his desk.
He knelt on the floor and inserted the rod deep into what looked like a wood knothole in the floorboards. He turned it and lifted a false panel, revealing a sturdy safe.
Shavik tossed him the keys to the briefcase. “You’re confident Billy can handle this thing discreetly?”
Arkov grinned and unlocked the briefcase, revealing thick stacks of hundred-dollar bills and two heavy leather pouches. He untied one of the pouches, spilling out the contents to reveal a glittering stash of diamonds.
“Billy’s an actor. He can play any part that’s needed. How much is in here?”
“Just over two million in cash and stones.”
Arkov grinned. “That’ll be six million this quarter. The old man’s going to be happy.”
“Did he call?”
“Right before you arrived. Says he’s got some important family stuff to discuss when he gets here.”
“About what?”
“He didn’t say.”
Shavik crossed to the window, parted the blinds, and looked out absently at the New Jersey landscape.
Arkov refilled the pouch, opened the floor safe, and dropped in the cash and diamonds.
“What’s up, Mila?”
“I’m thinking.”
“You ever wonder what we’re going to do with all this money when the old man finally goes?”
“Why?”
“He’s getting on. We’ve got to start thinking about the future.”
“Spit it out.”
“Building the business. More power, more territory. The future we used to talk about in the old days when we were dealing with those scum in the camps.”
“This isn’t the old days, Boris. They’re long gone.”
Arkov grinned, locking the safe. “But time’s still on our side. The future’s still bright.”
“You just pay close attention to the business in hand, Boris. Or maybe you won’t have a future. Unless it’s playing someone’s girlfriend in a federal prison. We need to deal with the woman. Now show me her photograph.”
Arkov didn’t like the rebuke and his grin vanished, replaced by a sullen look.
He slid open a desk drawer, plucked out a file, and threw a photograph on the desk. A copy of a newspaper shot of Carla Lane and her husband, dressed up for a concert.
“A lawyer you said?”
“She was with the public prosecutor’s office until she went to work for her husband.”
Shavik studied the woman’s features. She was pretty. Something about her was oddly familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.
“Lawyers are always trouble. I want to know what she was doing in Dubrovnik. And about her background. Who she was before she married the nosy musician.”
“I’m already on it.”
Shavik tossed down the photograph, rubbed his chin. “Something worries me about her. A feeling in my gut we could be looking at trouble.”
“That’s what my old man said. Because she’s a lawyer?”
“Maybe.”
“Keep the photograph if you like, I’ve got copies. There’s something else you need to see.”
Arkov turned round his laptop so that it faced Shavik.
“What is it?”
Arkov grinned. “A video you’re not going to like.”