The Darkest Hour by Lauren Smith

Author:Lauren Smith [Smith, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-947206-53-3
Publisher: Lauren Smith

12

Vadym Andreikiv sat in his leather chair in his office, glaring at Jov Tomenko.

“You said they were in Moscow, but you lost track of them at the airport.”

Jov was a burly brute born in Siberia. He was a man of few words, and he kept secrets well, but if he didn’t start talking, then Vadym would replace him—permanently.

“They hired a private car service. Our hacker team checked all the major databases and the taxicabs. Electronic receipts are easy to track these days, but we couldn’t get a lock on their location.”

Vadym pulled a cigar cutter from his desk and stared at Jov as he sliced off the tip of the cigar with a menacing sound.

“Think carefully about your next words, Jov. You don’t want to displease me.”

Jov audibly swallowed.

“I’ll find them. Or…”

“Or?”

“Well, you could lure him to you, couldn’t you? Put the word out where you can be found. Make Devereaux come to us. Then I can deal with him.” Jov clenched his hands together, his knuckles cracking.

Vadym considered the idea. That was certainly an option. Bring Devereaux to him, and then he would have that fucking American under his power, and the man would have to do what he wanted. Normally he’d bribe a man like Devereaux, but he knew enough to know Devereaux wouldn’t take money and he wouldn’t willingly lie about the origins of fossils. His reputation was beyond reproach. It was also what made him perfect for Vadym’s plans.

“Put the word out, as you put it, that I’ll be at the club tonight. He can come and meet my friends.”

Jov grinned darkly. “And what about Dr. Abramov?”

“Tie up the loose ends.”

Jov nodded and left Vadym’s office. Vadym picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

“Yes?” a gruff voice answered.

“Have the plane ready to fly to Kyakhta tomorrow. We will have guests.”

“Of course.”

He hung up and spun in his chair to stare up at the map of Russia and Mongolia that was pinned to the wall. He would make Dr. Devereaux accompany him to Ulaanbaatar, where his most recent acquisition of a complete velociraptor skeleton was being held securely. If he could get Dr. Devereaux to sign off on the papers and say the fossils came from just outside of Kyakhta, a Russian city on the edge of the Russian-Mongolian border, then he could sell the fossils to an American or European natural history museum for a few million dollars. Devereaux was an expert, one of the world’s best on velociraptors. If any other museum claimed it, he would have been called in to verify the origins of the fossils, which mean Vadym had to have him and no other paleontologist sign off on the documents.

Vadym picked up a long, curved claw from a velociraptor and dragged its lethal tip along his palm, leaving a red mark. For so many years he’d never felt pain, never understood what made others feel anything. He’d scraped his way to power in Russia, to the point where even government officials tread lightly in his presence.

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