by Risk, Mona
Suddenly grave, his gaze focused on her eyes. “Dr. Lornier, we need to discuss the terms of the contract.”
Cecile sobered. Immediately on the alert, she scooted against the back of her seat to maintain a poised attitude. “What is there to discuss?”
She watched him uncoil to his full, daunting height, towering above her. “Minsk is only two hundred and ten miles from Chernobyl. We can’t wait forever for an environmental cleanup.” He opened a cabinet.
She tightened her knuckles around the arms of her chair while he pulled out a map and unfolded it. “I know my geography, General. The refurbishment of the Belchem Lab is the first step toward the cleanup.”
“Only the first step. How long are we going to wait for a second step? How many people have to die in the meantime?” He crumpled the map into a ball and hurled it into a wastebasket. A different man stood before her. Impassioned, intense, his eyes blazing with anger.
A shiver traced its way down her spine as she cast a worried glance at the wastebasket. “I sympathize, believe me. But there is nothing I can do. My job is to bring analytical equipment to the lab and train the chemists. And you agreed to it. Actually, you suggested starting with the lab installation,” she reminded him.
“Dr. Lornier, I was a desperate man. I grabbed whatever was offered to me by your Department of Defense, the DOD, as you call it. I hurried to sign a contract before they changed their minds. Now the contract is in your hands. Help me save Belarus’ citizens.”
“I’ll do my best to set up the lab as fast as possible.”
“You can do the analysis a lot faster in Boston. Forget the terms of this contract. I need to change them. I need you to order the cleanup equipment.”
Forget the contract. He was the third man to tell her to forget her contract. The noble general who had held her in his arms at the airport was no better than Rob or Colonel Roussov. Disappointment sliced through her heart. This project was her future.
She took a deep breath, digging for patience. “General Fedorin, I’ve staked my entire reputation on getting this project up and running.”
“All I ask is to modify the requirements.”
“The cleanup is not my specialty.” She suppressed a hiss.
His eyes narrowed on hers. So blue but so dark. “Your corporation handles the cleanup.”
Her fists clenched in her lap and she prayed not to lose her temper—and not to give in to the zealous urging of his impassionate voice.
“They must employ someone specializing in hazardous cleanup to coordinate my new requirements.” The general raised his arms in an exasperated gesture.
Cecile sucked in her breath. Actually, there was someone. None other than Rob Spenser. She felt the blood drain from her face. She’d be damned if she’d bring Rob’s name into her contract. “The contract has been signed and approved by the DOD.”
“But there should be a way to modify it.”
“No.” She stared at the rugged profile. God, was he always so persistent? So determined to get what he wanted?
“A petition, perhaps?” He faced her again. His eyebrow arched in challenge. “Written by you and Mr. Gordon?”
A petition? Officials in Washington and in her corporate office would snort and assume she’d got cold feet as soon as she’d appraised the actual task. She’d lose face and compromise her career—a career Rob had done his best to try to shatter.
“It’s too early in the project to request a modification.” Lacing her fingers together, she fought a wave of frustration. “Amendments to a contract can be done. But later on, as the work progresses.” With a ten-year experience in government contracts, she knew the regulations inside out.
“I understand, Dr. Lornier, however, I must insist on your help. For my country, for the thousands who died and those who will soon be affected.”
A shiver rippled through her at the desperate note in his voice. The mighty Major General, the hero of Belarus, was almost begging her. His eyes glimmered with such intensity, such fervor she winced.
How could she have ever compared him to Rob? She swallowed hard. An uneasy feeling lumped in her throat. He was bargaining with dignity on behalf of his compatriots while she only thought of herself, her position and her career. She bit her lip, trailing her eyes on the chiseled nose and hard jaw. The staunch officer stood proud—even when pleading.
She wanted to reach and touch his hand and swear she’d help him. “I’ll send your samples to be analyzed in Boston.”
“Thank you. What about the amendment? Once the project is underway will you, please, think about it?”
But she had it wrong. General Fedorin was not begging or asking. He was demanding and expecting his demands to be met.
Her gut twisted at the nauseating thought of handing her project to Rob, or even calling him. After all she’d been through to keep her foreign assignment, after the rotten way the sleazeball had treated her. She took a steadying breath. “I’ll give it serious consideration. We’ll work on a petition, as soon as this project is underway.”
If the general could only trust her to set up the lab efficiently.
Later on, when she succeeded, she’d be in a bargaining position to claim special favors for Belarus and its citizens, without dealing with Rob and humiliating herself.
Could they afford to wait so long?
Chapter Four
Sergei Fedorin reached for the vodka. “Your glass is still full.”
Cecile shook her head. “I’ve had more than enough for my first experience.”
A prim young woman but a tough cookie as they said in her country. Her stiffness surprised him. “Cecile... I hope you don’t mind me calling you by your first name?”
“Please do.”
He wanted her to loosen up, to reveal her real self. “Well, Cecile, I am glad the contract brought us a beautiful, intelligent woman to work on the project.”
“Thank you, General. As the Program Manager, I’ll do my best on this project. You won’t be disappointed.”
She seemed so dedicated to her career, as if nothing else counted in her life. What a shame. What a waste of such a lovely woman.
“Is something wrong, General?” She shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.” Yet he didn’t avert his gaze. She had unique eyes that changed from green to hazel with the intensity of the light. Beautiful. And that little mouth she so often pursed. He wouldn’t mind tasting it. He suppressed a smile. “Please, call me Sergei.”
Her calm assertiveness seemed to fade.
“One more toast.” He handed her a glass of vodka. “To you, Cecile.”
She took a sip and immediately straightened up. “I must leave now.”
He could swear he glimpsed worry as she glanced at the door furtively. Where was her assertive bravado of a moment ago?
Cecile Lornier seemed more at ease discussing business with opponents than receiving a casual compliment from an admirer. He traced the delicate oval of her face with a tender gaze and lingered over the full lips pressed into a determined line.
How would she behave in a man’s arms? In his arms?
As a high-ranking officer, he’d never lacked female companionship. With so many local beauties competing to hang on his arm and warm his bed, he had trouble understanding why he’d be intrigued by this brainy scientist with a do-not-touch warning sign written all over her dainty figure. He wanted to know her better. If only for the sake of his project.
Sergei reached for the phone and dialed a number. “Nicolai, moy drouk, we are ready.”
He draped her raincoat over her shoulders, squeezing ever so lightly, and he stifled a grin as he felt her tiny shudder. There was more to this ice queen than she wanted to reveal.
Satisfied with his discovery, Sergei grabbed his leather jacket and escorted her out to the building esplanade. Nicolai waited for them, leaning against the bumper of the military Jeep. Sergei helped her into the backseat and settle
d next to her while Nicolai slid in beside the driver.
During the ten-minute drive to the Belchem Laboratory, Sergei indicated the landmarks they passed. “The Victory Monument was built under Stalin to commemorate the end of World War II. In front of it, you can see the Unknown Soldier’s Flame. We hold a celebration here in May, on National Day, the equivalent of your Fourth of July.” He considered himself an inherent part of his country. It would help their business relationship—and any other—if she could understand his patriotism. But would she ever be able to?
“Do you live in the city or in the suburbs, in a house?”
“A house?” He chuckled at the typically American question. “Only our President and Vice-President can afford a house. Everyone else rents a flat in one of those buildings.” He gestured to the row of identical ten-story edifices lining the streets like matchboxes and then he turned his head to face her. “Actually, I work, sleep, and almost live in my office at the Ministry of Defense.”
Cecile gasped. “You sleep in your office every night? I’m a workaholic myself but not to that extent.”
How could he make her see the difference between being a workaholic and being dedicated to his country?
The Jeep slowed and stopped. “This is the Belchem Lab?” Cecile choked on her words, as she slid out of the car.
The old building loomed, dismal and shabby, with broken windows, collapsed roof and dilapidated front stairs with missing steps. The military laboratory had obviously not been maintained for years. A musty smell assailed her as the two officers led her along a dark corridor to the laboratory director’ office.
John was already there, waiting with Dr. Kadelov.
“Welcome to Belchem, Dr. Lornier.” The director shook hands with her. “Generalle, we can take a tour of the laboratories right away.”
With the general and colonel at her side, and Dr. Kadelov trailing behind them, Cecile paced through the rooms. She noticed hoods, old and rusty, benches cluttered with paper rather than glassware, desks piled with Russian novels. But no chemistry notebooks. She frowned, surveying the usual laboratory furnishings, the refrigerators, ovens, autoclave and balances. It was all there but strangely incompatible and not used in the way she would expect.
Something was amiss in this lab. During the first minutes of the tour, the vague thought lingered in Cecile’s mind. “This place doesn’t smell like a lab.” She sniffed and raised questioning eyebrows. “No solvents, no acids?” They probably hadn’t done any work in years.
Dr. Kadelov beamed. “Of course not. The Belchem technicians cleaned the lab for this important visit.”
Cecile shook her head in dismay. With disgust, she tapped her pen against a sandwich half-folded in a napkin. From the same bench, she picked up a can of beer filled with cigarette butts. “You allow them to drink and smoke here?” she asked Kadelov in a controlled voice.
He shrugged. “It is too cold to stand outside.”
A refrigerator with a yellow Radioactive Material label attracted Cecile’s attention. She opened it and noticed the chemical reagents arranged in alphabetical order on the first shelf and... a bottle of vodka on the second one.
“Good God.” She pointed at the bottle and asked with a frosty tone, “What is this doing here?”
“The vodka tastes better cold. Actually, we should store it in a freezer,” said one of the chemists. “We are eagerly waiting to receive one through your contract.” The young man smiled at Cecile, but she appraised him with a stern look before scribbling on her notepad.
“This is not a joking matter. These chemists are totally ignoring basic rules of health and safety.”
The young man lost his grin and the other chemists watched her with awry looks.
“Dr. Lornier, this is the lab you will refurbish.” The general waved his hand toward the room. “And these are the scientists you will train.” He leveled a dubious look at her.
Was he wondering if the task already scared her? She took a deep breath. “We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
His eyes steeled. “Changing this place into an efficient lab will take too long.” He turned toward John. “Can you assign someone to help Dr. Lornier? It’s way too difficult for a woman, I mean for anyone not knowing our customs, to do it alone.”
Cecile slapped her hands on a bench. “This project is not impossible, General. For heaven’s sake, I’ve been chosen for this task. Can’t you trust me and let me do my job?” She glared at John, daring him to approve the general’s request.
John shrugged, noncommittal as usual. He was here to audit, not to help or interfere.
Good, she’d fight her own battle, if it ever proved necessary to battle for her mission and her future. She spun around. Her back stiff, she marched out of the laboratory. They followed her in complete silence.
At the front door, John’s booming voice broke the awkward mood. “Hey, Nicolai, one question before we go. Can you recommend a good restaurant where we can eat tonight?”
Was it John’s attempt to mend the breach he felt opening between her and the general? Cecile paused beside him, struggling to suppress her frustration.
The colonel frowned and then nodded. “There is one within walking distance of your hotel called ‘On the Szwifloch River’. It’s an elegant place for tourists, owned by my cousin. Excellent cuisine. My wife and I dined there for our anniversary.”
“In that case, I hope you and your wife will be our guests tonight. General, would you honor us with your presence?”
Cecile glanced at the general, expecting him to decline after their recent argument. His gaze shifted from John to her. She boldly focused on his face, trying to convey her annoyance at his previous doubt of her capability. Their eyes locked. Too many things too complex for words buzzed between them and then amusement flickered in his eyes. “Why not? I usually eat alone. I will be happy to meet you at eight o’clock.”
“I will take care of the reservations,” Nicolai decided. “We will meet no political and military acquaintances there. Only tourists. My Generalle prefers not to attract attention to his private life.”
The Major General of Belarus was apparently concerned about his reputation and public image. Why would he waste time going to dinner with her and John when he’d just proved he didn’t trust her professional capability? Did he think she’d want him around after he’d tried to limit her authority? Resentment simmered in her stomach and she cast him a wary look.
John rubbed his hands. “Then it’s all set. We’ll have fun tonight.”
“Tania is not here yet. We’ll drive you back to the hotel,” said Nicolai.
During the drive, the general weaved colorful tales of Belarus’ history, his baritone voice soothing her into a more relaxed attitude. Her anger ebbed.
As soon as the Army Jeep stopped in front of the Hotel Nievol, General Fedorin leaped out of the car and offered his hand to help her out. “I will see you tonight at the restaurant.” His eyes caressed her face while awareness hummed through her veins. She tugged at the collar of her raincoat to protect herself from a sudden shiver and nodded before entering the lobby.
In her room, Cecile slumped into a chair, sipping her bottled water. The silence bothered her and she turned on the TV. Sitting alone in her room to watch a Russian program she didn’t understand held little appeal.
Her rational mind summarized the incredible complexities of her lucrative contract. Men who didn’t trust her capabilities. A gallant general who looked like the chivalrous knight of her teenage dreams. His resentful and cynical, or maybe suffering, father-in-law. And a pretty driver expert at having men flock around her. All in the same pot.
Would Cecile be the catalyst stirring this unusual mix into action?
There was already too much heat spewing from these volcanoes. “I’m not going to let them burn me,” Cecile swore. “From now on, it’ll be work, only work and nothing but work.”
Comforted by her own resolution, she lay down on the uncomfortable
bed to indulge in a short nap before dinner.
Roussov’s words echoed in her head like pebbles inside a tin can.
Fedorin is a ruthless womanizer… Fedorin is not to be trusted…
* * * * *
Cecile slipped on a long woolen skirt in green and navy plaid, a white silk shirt and green blazer.
Old-fashioned according to Tania but politically correct for a professional scientist at a business dinner. Still, she took the time to curl her shoulder-length hair, apply green eyeliner, and brush on some mascara.
At six-thirty, she joined her group in the lobby. Tania, acting as guide and interpreter, led them to a nearby bank. “Change only a small number of dollars at a time,” she advised. “Inflation going up. Belarusian ruble going down.”
John tugged at Cecile’s sleeve before she reached the bank. “I hope you don’t mind my inviting the officers on your behalf.”
She frowned. “Huh?” What was he talking about?
“As a government employee, I’m on a strict budget. And the Belarusians can’t afford to invite us, or even pay for their dinner at an expensive restaurant. You’re the one with the contract. You can put the bill on your expense account.”
“No problem, John. I’m glad you invited them. Besides at the rate of exchange, entertaining them won’t cost much.” She added with a smile. “I still don’t know the customs of this country.”
“Speaking of customs, let me handle the bill. This is a private outing. It may irritate their sensitivities to let a woman pay for dinner.”
“Whatever.” She shrugged, not ready to make an issue of such a trivial thing, even if it irritated her sensitivity as an executive.
Cecile exchanged her money and they all walked along the river to the nearby restaurant.
Chapter Five
“John, Cecile, this way.” Nicolai stood at the restaurant’s door, under a flickering lantern. He seemed taller and slimmer in a dark, gray suit, his blond hair tamed backward and his thin mustache shiny. A petite woman with reddish-brown hair huddled close to him. “Please, meet my wife, Yelena.”