by Risk, Mona
“Well, why didn’t you sign the permit?” She hissed through gritted teeth while fighting to keep her calm.
“You’re a busy person, Dr. Lornier. You, more than anyone, should understand that a man in my position dealing with so many responsibilities can overlook one of the hundreds of papers piled on his desk for a signature.” His voice dripped with kindness. “I would like to prove my good intentions. We will meet for dinner in a downtown restaurant. I will sign the permit and give it to you.”
Cecile brought her fingers to her mouth and gestured to her friends that he wanted to take her to dinner. John wrote on a piece of paper, “Don’t worry. Go ahead.”
She bit her lip and suppressed a sigh. “Colonel, I’d be honored to join you. Please, give me the address of the restaurant.”
He wanted to pick her up but she refused and he didn’t insist. She hung up and repeated the conversation. “I’ll see him tomorrow at seven. He’s up to something but I can’t guess what.”
She swallowed hard, unable to discard the image of his hand grasping her shoulder on the sidewalk and his devilish gaze glued to her face.
The next morning, Cecile joined her companions in the hotel restaurant for a cup of coffee. Her mind riveted on her dinner with Roussov, she had hardly slept the previous night, one hypothesis after another swirling around in her brain. His invitation to a reputable restaurant eliminated the conjecture that he’d try to impose himself on her. She still couldn’t come up with a plausible explanation for his determination to take her out.
They were surprised to see Colonel Nicouvitch walking into the hotel dining room. He settled beside them and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Tell me, my friends, what are your plans for today?” The four men looked at Cecile.
With a nervous finger, she rubbed the scowl knitting her forehead. “I don’t know about John but we’re going to the Belchem Lab. We have a lot of work there. Jeffrey is continuing the computer training. Paul and I are meeting with Kadelov to plan the logistics of the equipment installation.”
The colonel rubbed his hands around his cup and leaned toward them. “No trip to the airport today?”
This was a sore point for her. “No, not today. Hopefully tomorrow.” Cecile sighed. If tonight’s dinner didn’t turn into a fiasco. “Why? What do you have in mind?”
“I explained to my Generalle that the equipment will not be retrieved for a couple of days. He suggested that you and John come to work with him on the new proposal.” His gaze shifted from her to John.
Her headache melted like snow under blazing sun. Seeing Sergei would infuse her with a good dose of optimism.
“Great idea, Nicolai. Jeffrey and Paul can handle the Belchem planning without me. Let’s go.”
Out of the restaurant, Nicolai held her arm. “Cecile, I didn’t talk to Sergei about Roussov. Are you still going to meet with him?”
She breathed deeply and smiled to reassure him. “Yes but I’ll be careful and watch every word I say. Don’t worry. I’ve faced difficult situations before.” She didn’t tell him that her throat was so constricted she hadn’t been able to swallow a bite since the previous evening.
* * * * *
Sergei received them with a big smile. He shook John’s hand and bent over hers for a lingering kiss that warmed her wrist and created a little lump in her throat. For the last two days she’d wondered if he’d managed to snatch her out of his heart. But he was back to his old self, with his grand manners. Had he forgotten and forgiven her refusal to marry him?
They worked for a couple of hours, the three men hunched over their pads, brainstorming and scrawling while Cecile sorted their requirements and typed on her laptop. On and off, Sergei’s deep blue gaze connected with hers and rested on her face. She reveled in the reassurance it sent her. He still wanted her, cared for her.
“In summary, we need a machine to clean the soil and another to filter the water,” the general concluded, while arching his eyebrows. “What do you suggest, Cecile?”
She blinked. The only thing she wanted to suggest was for him to dismiss the two others and take her into his arms. She couldn’t concentrate on environmental pollution when her own environment encompassed strong healthy arms and a muscular body she yearned to press herself against.
Her fingers rubbed her forehead as she tried to recall her professional faculties. “There is a cleanup procedure for the soil.” She summarized it without too many technical details. “It’s easy and very efficient.”
From the blank looks the two officers sent her way, she realized her explanations sounded like Chinese.
“If you say so,” Nicolai sighed.
The general asked. “What about the water cleaning?”
“There’s another more delicate technique.”
“You mean as incomprehensible? Can our scientists learn these procedures?” the colonel asked, worry lines crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Of course.” Cecile tried to reassure them. “Trust me these machines are easier to learn than the analytical equipment waiting at the airport. Technical specialists will install the machines and train your scientists.”
In spite of her refusal to marry Sergei, she knew that she loved him with every fiber of her being. She couldn’t marry him because she was convinced it would hurt both of them, but she would do anything to prove to Sergei that she loved him.
Anything?
Yes. Even inviting Rob Spencer to coordinate the cleanup. It was his area of expertise. She took a deep breath. For Sergei, she’d put her stubbornness aside and deal with her former fiancé. No matter what the cost to her pride. And she’d fulfill Sergei’s wish for a complete environmental cleanup.
“Cecile,” John said, while rubbing his hands. “You’ll help me formulate this proposal with all the technical details. Tomorrow, I’ll e-mail it to my boss for approval.”
“Thank you, my friends. John, if I know you well by now, you must be very thirsty.” The general grinned. “Reach into my closet and pour us some vodka to celebrate. Nicolai will help you.”
As both men strode to the back of the room, Sergei put a restraining hand on Cecile’s. “Cecilya, I miss you so much,” he whispered in her ear. “I tried to stay away from you. But I can’t. Please, come to my flat tonight.”
Her heart hummed with joy. She smiled.
And then she winced. Her shoulders slumped as she remembered she had to meet with Roussov in the evening. It was the only way to get the equipment from the airport and set up the lab. Turning down Sergei’s company to go with his enemy was the hardest thing on Earth at that moment. She would give a year of her life to accept his invitation.
With a blink and a sad smile, she asked, “Can I come tomorrow instead?”
“A vodka toast to celebrate the new proposal,” John boomed.
Sergei answered “Of course,” to both of them but his smile disappeared and his questioning gaze rested on her for a few excruciating seconds.
They drank one toast and right away Sergei stood, dismissing them. “You will excuse me, my friends. I am expected at the Ministry of Defense. Thank you for all your help.”
He shook hands with her and John. There was no smile or hand kissing. With a heart laden with sorrow and a taste of bile in her mouth, she dragged herself out of his office.
At the hotel, Nicolai left her with a somber, “Good luck. Be very careful.”
In the elevator, John grabbed her arm. “You’re coming to have a late lunch with me. I noticed you didn’t eat anything this morning.” On the second floor, he pulled her along toward the dining room. “I know anxiety can cut one’s appetite. But you were sick three days ago. You’ll need all your strength for tonight.”
Cecile appreciated his paternal solicitude. John was a good man, even if he sometimes lacked finesse. He ordered for both of them and almost forced her to eat. After lunch, he walked her to her room.
“I think you’re making too much out of this dinner. If you succeed it’ll be good. If no
t, we’ll try something else. I may ask our ambassador to intercede. After all, this Roussov has no right to obstruct our project.” He patted her shoulder. “We’ll see you downstairs at six-thirty. We’ll go in Tania’s van.”
Cecile sighed. John knew only part of the problem. She couldn’t care less about Roussov. Her concern was all for Sergei. Right now, she resented her contract and the lab refurbishment that entrapped her in tonight’s ambush.
Chapter Sixteen
Cecile pressed a fist against her side to tame her racing heartbeat and curtail the burning pain of her stomach. Lifting her head, she squinted at the neon lights blinking the restaurant’s name in multicolored flashes.
John, Paul, Jeffrey and Tania would meet her again in a couple of hours. She took a deep breath and strode to the entrance. In the hall, Cecile gave her name to the receptionist and asked for Colonel Roussov’s table. From the hostess’s bright smile, she understood she was expected. “This way please, Dr. Lornier. I have a table for two waiting for you.”
In spite of the dimness prevailing in the area, Roussov must have spotted her as soon as she stepped in the dining room. Wearing a dark suit, a crisp white shirt and red tie, he was the epitome of elegance. He came toward her, a beaming smile on his face. Extending both hands, he took hers and squeezed them. “My dear Cecile, what a pleasure to see you. You look lovely. I’m glad you recovered from your indisposition.”
He helped her into a chair. “This is a friendly—I should almost call it a family—dinner.”
Both his eyes and lips stretched into a thin line. “You will forgive a father for indulging in useless reminiscences. You remind me so much of my daughter, slim and almost the same age.”
His withering gaze clearly suggested, And like her, I guess you’re stupidly attracted to the wrong man.
Cecile bit her tongue and maintained a blank expression. Although his comparison shook her to the core, she promised herself to control her emotions and facial expressions, no matter what he said or did.
She twisted a little in her seat and surveyed the elegant crowd patronizing the restaurant, the men in dark suits or decorated uniforms, the women with heavy makeup, low-cut dresses and fashionable attire. She had donned a high neck ruffled shirt and a long black velvet skirt quite appropriate for the place. Her hair was pulled back to her nape in the same severe bun that she wore during her work day. She was here on a business meeting and wanted to look the part.
So far, nothing in the loud and cheerful crowd generated fear or anxiety. A cozy place with lively music and joyful couples swirling on the dance floor. At her table, the deceivingly gracious banter of the old man hovering over her with a paternal smile…
And yet a cold shiver slithered down her spine and chilled her bones. Cecile waited. For what, she didn’t know. She slid her hand into the purse on her lap and switched on the tape recorder.
Roussov ordered the vodka and toasted their new friendship. He drank and chuckled and joked. She hardly tasted the liquor. He asked about her work, her company, the lab in Boston. Innocent questions and easy conversation intended—she assumed—to help her relax and drop her guard. He assisted her with the menu and suggested the excellent salad buffet. She never ate salad in foreign countries and declined.
He kept the conversation light all through dinner. A dull headache and throbbing pain pounded her skull. She wanted to get the meal over with and run out.
“Would you like a dessert?”
“No, thank you.”
Across the table, Roussov leaned forward. “When would you like to receive the equipment?” The question resonated like a gong.
She sent him a wary look and snapped to attention. “The sooner the better. Tomorrow? Do you have the permit with you?”
His eyes narrowed. He inched forward. His voice dropped to a murmur. Cecile fumbled in her purse to turn up the volume of the recorder and extracted a tissue. She blew her nose. He waited a second while she crumbled the tissue in her hand.
Roussov shook his head. “In spite of what you think, Cecile, I want to help you retrieve your precious equipment. I’ll sign the permit and personally oversee the transfer of the boxes to the lab.”
She arched her eyebrows and stared at him. This was too good to be true.
“We can work together. Trust me, I only want to help you…and help myself.”
She swallowed hard, afraid to guess.
Roussov rubbed his hands, then tented his fingers. “Dr. Lornier, in this world we pay for everything.” The ominous sentence rang loud in her ears. “My help will support your contract, enhance your position and facilitate your life.” Roussov gave her a broad grin. “It is worth a lot.”
Cecile abstained from asking how much.
He seemed annoyed by her silence. “Well, you do want your instruments and the permit?” he barked not realizing he’d raised his voice.
“Yes, Colonel Roussov. I do want the equipment for the Belchem Lab. And I need the permit. Am I going to get it?” She matched his tone so he would continue to speak loudly.
“For five hundred thousand dollars,” he spat out. “I’ll have the equipment delivered to the lab.” He leaned back in the chair and focused a sharp gaze on her.
Cecile gasped. Her jaw sagged. She had expected something rotten but not a blatant request for money and such a big sum to boot. “You’re asking me for a bribe?”
“No. It is payment for services. I heard you paid the Belchem chemists who collected samples for Fedorin.”
“You’re always well informed.”
“It’s my job, my dear.”
Her eyebrows flickered a little. “I requested official permission to pay them. Since you know everything, you probably heard their stipends didn’t exceed fifty dollars a person.”
“They are technicians, collecting dirt. This is the Director of National Security offering his services.” He sneered in disdain. She shivered and prayed the recorder was functioning well.
“It’s a big sum, Colonel Roussov. Do you imagine me asking permission for this type of money?”
Roussov seemed to relax a bit. “My dear Cecile, I respect you as a strong independent person. Don’t disappoint me. I don’t expect you to ask for approval. You’re the powerful Program Manager with complete control over your contract budget.”
She wanted him to detail his motives. “What if someone hears about this…bribery?”
“The deal is strictly between you and me. You will not confide in anyone. And you can be sure I will not advertise it. I may even retire to a warmer climate.”
She pinched her lips without answering.
“What’s your answer?” he asked impatiently.
“No.” Cecile shook her head. “I will not pay to get the permit.”
“Not just the permit.” He frowned as if he couldn’t believe her refusal. “I will retrieve the whole shipment from the airport and transfer it to the lab.”
“Not a penny, not a ruble.” Her hands trembling, she mentally blessed her little recorder.
“You may regret it, Dr. Lornier,” he said with an icy tone. Hatred radiated from his eyes.
She cringed and immediately stiffened to cope with the situation. The lights suddenly brightened the room and Roussov clapped his hands. She noticed that applause filled the air. The singer, a gorgeous redhead, microphone in hand, glided toward them, halted and gave her a dazzling smile. Her thoughts still muddled by his outrageous demand, Cecile unconsciously smiled back at the singer.
Roussov’s arm suddenly landed around her shoulders and his head leaned against hers. A flash blinded them. She blinked, clutched her purse shut and lunged back, jerking out of his embrace. “What’s going on?” she almost shouted.
He shrugged but she glimpsed the satisfied glint in his eyes. “I asked her to cheer you with a special song.” Sarcasm underlined his words.
“But this flash? Someone took a picture. Why?”
“Why not? The entertainer has announced she will sing for you. The
local photographer must have taken a picture for the restaurant.”
She didn’t believe him. He had set her up. She was sure of that. He had put his arms around her and assumed an intimate posture just as the photographer snapped the picture.
Damn, he’d plotted the whole scene. Why? What was he planning to do with the picture?
“I asked her to sing for you, Cecile. It was my daughter’s favorite song, an old Russian melody. The title is ‘For your blue eyes’. You do favor blue eyes, don’t you?”
Cecile hated him with all her heart. The snake was trying to hurt her innermost feelings, to make her jealous of his dead daughter, Sergei’s wife. She could have bet a month’s salary the sleazy jerk was enjoying himself and playing with her emotions.
Whatever his intentions were, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset. She clapped her hands when the song ended and pushed her chair to stand up.
His eyes focused on her. “If you’ve finished your dinner, we can leave. I am traveling tomorrow and need to do my packing.”
She insisted on paying for her meal and he let her. At the door, he bowed and grabbed her hand. “Think about my offer,” he murmured in her ear. “It can benefit both of us. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. I’m sure we will see each other again,” he said with a frosty tone.
* * * * *
Cecile found the van waiting for her in the next block. She slid in the backseat next to John and Paul, a burning sensation gnawing at her stomach. The stress had exacerbated her ulcer. They looked at her anxiously. “He didn’t give me the permit.”
She summarized the evening without mentioning the bribe issue. It was too grave to divulge in front of Tania. “No permit. Hmm. He tricked you.” John raked his frizzy hair then barked. “I’ll call Roussov. I’ll tell him what I think of him. He can’t make fun of a U.S. envoy.”
“Forget it. Roussov specified he was leaving town for some time.”
All through her friends’ display of emotions, Cecile remained calm. “It wasn’t like him to give me the permit, after withholding it for a few days, just because I’d asked for it.”