Chapter 7 - The Currency of Deceit
For the next hour, dinner was served in silent, mechanical precision by two private waiters Alexi had brought in.
Plates of sea bass and aged beef were set down, untouched by almost everyone except Saranov, who ate with a heavy, methodical aggression, washed down with vodka.
"The port contracts in Odessa are being restructured," Saranov said in English, leaning back as his plate was cleared. "The council wants fifty percent of your distribution network in the Midwest in exchange for full clearance through Eastern Europe."
Alexi rested his hands on the table, his fingers relaxed. "Fifty percent is an absurdity, Viktor. You offer clearances you barely control anymore. The authorities in St. Petersburg raided your warehouse network two weeks ago."
Saranov’s jaw tightened. He leaned toward Lev, whispering in furious, quiet Russian:
"How does he know about St. Petersburg? Someone in the Moscow office is leaking information. Find out who spoke to his people before we leave tonight. I want them buried."
Mara didn't flinch. She kept her eyes on her water glass, speaking in a low, monotone voice to Alexi in English:
"He is shocked you know about the St. Petersburg raid. He believes there is a leak in his Moscow office and plans to eliminate the suspect tonight."
Saranov slammed his fist onto the mahogany table. The crystal glasses chimed violently.
"Enough of this theater!" Saranov roared in English, pointing a thick finger at Mara. "I did not travel across the Atlantic to have a child translate my private thoughts to you, Vulov!"
Nikolai shifted behind Saranov, his hand moving subtly toward the inside of his heavy coat. Across the room, Kirill’s hand disappeared behind his jacket in perfect synchronization.
Alexi didn't move an inch. His dark eyes remained fixed on Saranov, cold and sharp as broken ice.
"Miss Ellison is doing precisely what I hired her to do, Viktor," Alexi said softly. "You came here intending to demand fifty percent of my territory based on a lie that your supply chain was secure. I am simply letting you know that I hear everything you say—even when you whisper."
Saranov breathed heavily, his red face slick with sweat under the chandelier lights. He looked at Nikolai, giving a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.
May you like
Mara caught the movement. Her father’s training, buried deep in her subconscious, flared to life instantly.
"Alexi," Mara said, her voice cutting through the tension with sudden, sharp clarity. "Look at Nikolai's feet."
