The Upside of Death

Keera Eavesdrops Part 24

Keera waited for Zach to sleep. Once his breathing became shallow and rhythmic, she began her routine to relax her body and mind. Minutes later, she slipped out of her body but stayed a moment in the room. Flint not around. A relief. Neither was Bardo, which wasn't. He could be mighty handy right now. Yet she knew he'd appear if she needed him. Just hold that thought, she said to herself. Nail it to your heart.

She gave herself up to the rushing blackness and willed herself to her father's side. Found him in a boardroom, somewhere. Nelson Miles sat across from three men. At fifty years old, he carried too much gray hair, which he refused to color. As always, he wore a dark suit tailored on Savile Row, matched with a dark blue tie to emphasize his traditional attitude to business negotiations: careful, considered arguments put forward and listened to in return. No yelling, no bluffing, no posturing. No theatrics. His lightning-fast brain turned and twisted deals, slicing the cake a thousand ways, each of them profitable.

Two aides flanked him, kept glancing at him. Paperwork littered the table in front of the men, and her father was talking. An interpreter sat at the end of the table. Behind them, through a large window, she saw the colored-onion shapes of the Kremlin in the distance. She moved around and scanned the documents on the table. Contract drafts, letters, email printouts.

The Russians wanted more money, she got that. More money for themselves, not just the company. The stupendous returns from oil fields meant stupendous returns to those who controlled any portion of the process. Her father's genius was in working people, working situations, to create the best results for his company. His rewards: a massive salary and a distant family.

She waited, taking everything in, trying to get a sense of the possible outcome. Her father methodically, delicately, reduced the Russian demands. He would know when to stop. Before the deal broke apart. The Russians to get some of what they wanted and business to resume as usual. Until the next demand.

How would he react to the contact from her kidnappers? The same way. Negotiate a safe return, a reduction in ransom. He wouldn't get either. Vronsky and the others were too jumpy to stick with protracted negotiations, nor were they in a secure place that gave them the luxury of time. There was only one likely ending, she now knew: the kidnapping abandoned and no hostages left alive. Fresh despair broke over her.

She whirled away, back to the motel and the Russians sitting in front of the television. The room dark as they viewed an infomercial for a house-cleaning product. Yuri watched with pursed lips and Semyon brooded, hardly paying attention, but glancing at Yuri occasionally. Flint wasn't present. Practicing his glass moves somewhere else, she hoped.

Vronsky said, "The boyfriend is lying for sure, such crazy lies. But for what reason?"

"You think he's from a government agency?" Yuri said. "He's tracked her down twice. That is someone with excellent resources, sure. But he gets himself locked in our car. And can't get out? This is a comedy. If he's not alone why didn't they free him? There was enough time. They could have killed us as we walked out. Three shots, three comrades dead in the dust. Mission accomplished. The same question remains: why didn't this happen?"

She understood their Russian perfectly now, better than before. It had to be Bardo's work.

"It's a big puzzle." Vronsky turned to Semyon. "What do you think?"

"You asking me?" Semyon kept his eyes on the television. "Ask the one who was too stupid to check the trunk when he knew it was unlocked."

Yuri fired back, peppy and eager. "Who's saying these things? The man who forgot to look himself? Or the man who failed to lock the car in the first place?"