20. Adrianos
Adrianos
Saving.
The word follows me long after Elena finally agrees to leave the office.
She doesn't agree willingly. Nothing Elena does unwillingly resembles agreement. It involves negotiations, objections, several insults disguised as observations, and a final declaration that she's going to bed because my face is interfering with her ability to think.
I let her believe she won.
By four in the morning, she's asleep in my bed again, curled on her side with one hand tucked beneath the pillow. I'm standing in the living room with a glass of whiskey I haven't touched, staring through the windows at Athens while fifty-seven million dollars sits inside my head.
Fifty-seven million that Elena found because one man died.
One fragment of one network.
Money doesn't accumulate like that without purpose. Criminals spend. Governments spend. Men with power spend faster than anyone because power is expensive to maintain. Fifty-seven million sitting quietly across accounts isn't profit.
It's preparation.
Weapons. Soldiers. Bribes. Intelligence. Politicians. Judges. Police. Assassins. Safe houses. Transportation. False identities. A private army if someone knows where to shop.
Operational capital.
And if Elena is right that these accounts have been accumulating for years, fifty-seven million might be pocket change compared to whatever is actually waiting beneath the surface.
I sip on my drink.
Someone is preparing for war.
The conclusion is obvious enough that I don't need Elena's spreadsheets to reach it, but obvious conclusions get men killed. I need proof before I tell her what I think she's found. Elena doesn't frighten easily. That's becoming one of the things about her that irritates me most.
A normal person sees a man carved with the Crown's symbol and understands the message.
Elena sees a data point.
A car tries to run her down, and she analyzes the driver's route. Petros is murdered, and she turns his death into a timeline. Give her a bullet, and she'll probably weigh it before asking who fired it.
Useful. Infuriating. Dangerous.
My phone is already in my hand.
Evander answers on the third ring. "If you're calling to tell me you killed someone, I'm going back to sleep."
"Double security."
Silence. Then, "Good morning to you, too."
"Two additional men downstairs. Another vehicle whenever Elena leaves the building. Nobody approaches her without clearance."
"From her?"
"From me."
The amusement disappears from his voice. "What happened?"
"We found something."
"How bad?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the one you're getting."
I hear sheets move on his end. He's awake now. "Does Elena know you're doing this?"
"No."
Evander exhales.
I know that exhale.
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Make whatever expression you're making."
"I'm on the phone."
"I can still hear your judgment."
"That's because my judgment is exceptionally loud where Elena is concerned."
"Evander."
"Fine. Two additional men. Second car. Clearance through you. Anything else, Your Majesty?"
"Her apartment."
"What about it?"
"Put someone there."
Another pause. "To watch the apartment or stop her from going inside?"
"Both."
He laughs once. There isn't much humor in it. "This should go beautifully."
"Her mother too."
Now he's completely silent.
"Discreetly," I add. "Two men. She doesn't see them. Elena doesn't know."
"You're aware Elena notices things for a living, right?"
"Then find men she won't notice."
"Those cost extra."
"Send me an invoice."
"Should I include funeral expenses for when she finds out?"
I end the call.
By seven thirty, I've slept for another hour. Elena is still asleep when I get up, and I leave her there while I shower and dress. When I return to the bedroom, she's sitting against the headboard with my shirt still on and her laptop open across her thighs.
I stop in the doorway. "You slept with that?"
She doesn't look up. "Jealous?"
"Deeply."
"Understandable. It has excellent processing speed and never tells me to go to bed."
"I can throw it off the balcony."
"Then I'll testify."
"Against me?"
"With enthusiasm."
I walk over and close the laptop. Her eyes lift slowly to mine.
I leave my hand on the lid. "Breakfast."
"I'm working."
"Breakfast."
"Do you communicate with everyone using nouns?"
"When they're being difficult."
"That must save you tremendous amounts of time."
"It does."
She tries to open the laptop. I don't move my hand. For several seconds we stare at each other.
Then Elena sighs. "I hope you know this isn't attractive."
"You're lying in my bed wearing my shirt."
"Correlation is not causation."
I kiss her before she can continue.
It's supposed to be brief. It isn't. Her fingers catch the front of my shirt, and for a few seconds the fifty-seven million disappears. Petros disappears. The Crown disappears. There is only her mouth beneath mine and the quiet sound she makes when I slide my hand behind her neck.
I pull away first. Her eyes stay closed for half a second longer.
"Breakfast," I say.
She opens them. "Still not attractive."
"Liar."
"Criminal."
"Accountant."
Her mouth twitches. For one stupid moment, the world feels normal. Then I remember that somebody tried to kill her yesterday, and the feeling dies.
I'm in my office with Evander when my phone rings.
"Sir."
"What?"
"Ms. Markides is attempting to leave."
I look across the desk at Evander. His mouth immediately curves.
"Is she alone?"
"Yes, sir."
"Stop her."
The man hesitates. "We have."
"And?"
Another pause. "She would like to speak with you."
Evander covers his mouth, and I glare at him.
"Put her on."
There's a rustle, followed by Elena's voice. Calm. Too calm.
"Adrianos."
"Elena."
"There's a man downstairs who appears to believe I've been placed under house arrest."
"You're not under house arrest."
"Excellent. Tell him."
"No."
Evander turns away from me because he's a coward.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"My apartment."
"Why?"
"Because I live there."
"Not currently."
"Interesting. Was there an election I missed?"
"You need something?"
"Several things."
"Send someone."
"I have legs."
"I've noticed."
"Then I'm going to use them."
"No."
The line goes quiet again. This silence is worse.
"I'll be upstairs in thirty seconds," she says, then hangs up.
Evander looks at me. "I can leave."
"Stay."
"I'd rather fight the Colombians."
"Stay."
"You're a terrible friend."
Twenty-eight seconds later, the office door opens, and Elena enters wearing yesterday's clothes, her hair pulled back, handbag over one shoulder. She looks composed, except for her eyes.
She closes the door carefully behind her, her eyes promising litigation.
"Explain."
Evander studies his phone with the concentration of a surgeon.
I lean back in my chair. "Someone tried to kill you yesterday."
"Someone tried to kill both of us yesterday."
"Yes."
"And yet nobody downstairs has stopped you from going and coming as you please."
Evander makes a choking sound. I look at him.
"Cough," he says.
"Do it elsewhere."
"Gladly."
He gets up.
Elena points at him. "No. Stay."
Evander freezes halfway to the door.
"Why?" he asks.
"Witness."
"To what?"
"Potentially a homicide."
His eyes move between us. "Whose?"
"Undecided."
He sits back down, and I almost smile.
Almost.
"You're not a prisoner," I tell her.
"Wonderful. I'll leave."
"No."
Her nostrils flare. "Do you hear yourself?"
"Frequently."
"I am going to my apartment."
"Tell me what you need."
"My clothes."
"They can be brought here."
"My computer."
"Same."
"My files."
"Same."
"My dignity."
Evander looks at the ceiling, and I ignore him. "That might be harder."
Elena stares at me. "You think you're funny."
"I know I'm funny."
"No. Evander is funny. You're rich enough that people have been pretending you have a sense of humor."
Evander coughs again.
"Leave," I tell him.
"She said I’m here as a witness."
"Now."
He stands. "For what it's worth, I think you're both making excellent points."
"Evander."
"I'm gone."
The door closes behind him, and Elena waits patiently. I recognize the tactic. Silence until the other person fills it. Unfortunately for her, I can sit through silence for days. She lasts twelve seconds before busting out.
"You cannot lock me inside your penthouse."
"I'm not locking you anywhere."
"You've stationed armed men at the door with instructions not to let me leave."
"They'll let you leave."
Her expression changes.
"With security," I add.
"There it is."
"You were nearly killed."
"So were you."
"This isn't about me."
"That's becoming obvious."
I stand, and her eyes follow me as I walk around the desk.
"I don't know who is behind OB6. I don't know how they knew we spoke to Petros. I don't know how they cleared that office before we arrived, and I don't know how they knew exactly where we'd be when they sent that car. Until I have answers, you don't move around Athens alone."
"You don't get to decide that."
"I just did."
"No, you issued an order. Those are different things."
"Not in my world."
"I'm not one of your men."
"I know."
"Then stop treating me like one."
"If you were one of my men, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Why? Would you shoot me?"
"I'd expect you to follow instructions."
Her laugh is sharp. "There it is again. Instructions."
"Security."
"Control."
"Survival."
"My survival is not exclusively your responsibility."
The words hit harder than they should, but I keep my face still.
"It is while you're involved in this."
"Why?"
"Because I brought you into it."
"No, Kalliopi brought me into it when she died. Petros brought me deeper when he died. Whoever tried to turn me into decorative pavement yesterday certainly contributed. You are not the center of every decision I make."
"Careful."
Her chin lifts. "Was that a threat?"
"No."
"Good, because I'm already angry, and I would hate to become unpleasant."
Despite myself, I almost laugh.
She catches it.
"Do not."
"I'm not doing anything."
"Your face moved."
"My condolences."
She steps closer. "You hired an accountant. You did not acquire a houseplant."
"I've never wanted a houseplant."