20. Wise Advice
WISE ADVICE
HALSTON
The ambassador ushered Halston into his office. To her surprise, he shut the door, something he’d never done before. Rather than direct her to the guest chair, he gestured for her to sit at the conference table—a noticeable shift for someone of his stature.
He sat at the head, she waited, clasping her hands on the table. Despite her cool demeanor, her mouth was bone dry. On the slow walk back to his office, she’d formulated a plan. Get through the meeting, complete whatever tasks he’d ask of her, then bolt.
She’d shown signs of being ill though she wasn’t—unless worry counted as a sickness. If it did, she was full-blown hospital-worthy.
While pretending to adjust her glasses, she tapped the button to start recording a snippet of their meeting.
“Minka,” he began. “Today is January 8, the date Petrov mentioned. It is extreme importance to our mission. The directive comes from the Kremlin. We must treat it with respect and discretion. I told you global balance of power would shift.” He cleared his throat, sat tall. “Today is the beginning of change.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I cannot leave my position here, you will go in my place.”
Her guts twisted into a series of knots.
Oh, no.
“Go?”
“You will be our translator. Natasha will take you to location—”
“I’d like to drive myself so I can stop at a health facility.”
He hesitated, his intense gaze drilling into hers. She held her breath.
Say yes.
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows debating how to push back on this. He couldn’t force her to go.
“Minka.” His abrupt tone caught her ear. “Did you not hear me? This is from the Kremlin. You cannot be sick.”
Knock-knock.
Without waiting for an invitation, the door opened. Dmitri Petrov loomed large, his orca body filling the space. “Natasha is ready.” He waddled in, glared down at her. “Don’t fuck this up.”
“Dmitri,” the ambassador said, “relax.”
Petrov whirled toward him. “Do not tell me what to do. This is bigger than you.”
Natasha entered, a black cloth in her hand. “Get coat, Minka.”
Halston was being taken against her will. Every nerve, every cell was telling her to run. Get to the street and never look back.
Petrov grabbed her by the arm, yanked her up, and strode toward the entrance. He shoved her at Natasha. “Go. Time ticks. We’re on tight schedule. Forty-eight hours. Move!”
Natasha grabbed her by the wrist and tugged her forward. In her office, Halston shrugged into her coat. Hidden inside her crossbody—strapped beneath her overcoat—was the rubber finger and the thumb drive. She couldn’t bring them with her, but it would be worse to leave them in her office.
She shoved her laptop into her computer bag.
“No computer.” Natasha glared at her. “No phone.”
“What if the ambassador needs me?”
Natasha barked out a laugh. “He won’t.”
She opened the crossbody, set her embassy phone on her desk.
Out the door they went. Parked at the curb was a black sedan. She walked around to the passenger side, glancing at the license plate. An official embassy vehicle.
Once inside, Natasha held out the black cloth. “Cover eyes.”
When Halston went to tie it over the spy glasses, Natasha said, “No glasses. Put in bag.”
“I can’t see without them.”
“Perfect.” Natasha started the vehicle as Halston tucked the spy glasses into her crossbody before she tied on the blindfold.
“I drive, we talk,” Natasha said as the car rolled forward. “Grigori came to me.”
Halston’s world imploded.
Her parents had been kidnapped. She was alone, she was cut off from everyone, and she was being taken somewhere by Natasha… someone she believed to be an extremely dangerous and unhinged individual.
GAbrIEL
At eleven that morning, Gabriel clasped Elsa’s small hand as they made their way through the parking lot.
While he’d suggested several other upscale eateries in the area, she insisted on dining at the family restaurant.
Gabriel never ate lunch before one, but his afternoon was full, so he’d suggested the late-morning lunch date.
Tara, their floor manager, greeted Elsa with a warm hug, then blushed when her gaze met Gabriel’s.
“Good to see you, Tara,” he said. “Keeping Teddy in line?”
“He’s super easy to work for,” Tara said. “Greystone too. You were the challenging boss.”
Elsa laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. What did he do?”
“He’s a micromanager.” Tara winked at him. “But I’m sure he’s a wonderful grandson.”
Elsa leaned her head on his arm. “He’s most like my late husband, so he’s my favorite. Shhhh, don’t tell anyone.”
Gabriel chuffed out a laugh.
“è vero,” Elsa said. “It’s true.”
“Well, Mrs. Santini, I love my job, so your secret is definitely safe with me.” With a smile, Tara led them through the bustling restaurant and over to the owner’s horseshoe booth, tucked in the back corner. After leaving two menus, she smiled at Gabriel. “Always a pleasure.”
Elsa sat, then slid to the center. Gabriel sat beside her with his back against the wall.
“She has a crush on you,” Elsa said as she pushed aside the menu.
“I know,” he said.
“What are you doing about it?”
“Nothing.”
The server appeared, said hello to them both. Elsa ordered a coffee, Gabriel a sparkling water.
“Mrs. Santini, would you like the chef to prepare your lunch special?”
“That would be fine,” Elsa said as he collected her menu.
“Mr. G, what about you?”
Gabriel had no appetite. He didn’t like that Halston was without her personal phone.
He had no way of contacting her. He didn’t like that after last night’s assassination attempt, she’d gone to the embassy.
But she’d been determined to learn why today—January 8th—was so damn important to Bulgrov and Petrov.
“Caprese salad,” he said.
After the waiter left, Elsa said, “Tomato slices and mozzarella? That’s not enough for you.” She held his gaze. “What’s wrong, Gabriel?”
“It’s all good.”
“You and Carrera are the worst liars. Luciano could fool me. Greystone and Teddy never told lies… at least not to me. But I could always tell when you and Carrera were telling me tall tales. Racconta alla nonna cosa c'è che non va.” Tell grandmother what’s wrong.
The waiter returned with Elsa’s coffee and Gabriel’s water.
“Excuse me, but the chef said the appetizer isn’t going to fill you, Mr. G, so he’s doubling Mrs. Santini’s order.
I’ve been told to bring an extra plate.” The server swallowed.
“Please don’t shoot the messenger, but he also said—and I quote— ‘Mr. Gabriel is a guest today. He is not welcome in my kitchen.”
That made Gabriel laugh. “Tell him I’m coming back there just to give him hell.”
“Oh, boy,” said the server before scurrying off.
“Just like my Luca,” Elsa said. “Your grandfather terrified everyone who worked for him. Even your father was scared of him, but not you. You were the only one who would crawl on his lap and talk to him.”
“That’s because I didn’t work for him.”
“Oh, yes, you did,” Elsa said, correcting him. “When you were three, he sent you to deliver a message. That was the beginning of your career in Cosa Nostra. First, messages to the enemy. I begged him not to send you, but he’d always say, ‘They won’t gun down a three-year-old, Elsa.”
Gabriel laughed. “I remember when I was six, he gave me a duffle bag with stacks of cash. I had to deliver it to someone, but I always wondered if it was a test to see if I’d take any.”
“Did you?”
“No. I admired him. I remember, even back then, I’d watch him, learn from him. Dad too, but their approaches were very different.”
“Who did you favor?”
“Luca,” he said. “Nonno was the real deal.”
Her eyes grew moist and she got busy sipping the coffee. He put his arm around her small shoulder. “You miss him.”
“So much.” She removed her glasses, dabbed the runaway tear with her cloth napkin. “You asked me to lunch, Gabriel. Why?”
“Because I love you, Elsa. I live in Italy and don’t get to spend time with you.”
This time, she laughed. “You are strategic, Gabriel. This is not a social visit.”
“You’re right, as always. I need your advice. I’ve fallen in love with someone who also leads a dangerous life.”
“Caroline mentioned a friend who had been gone for a while. She said she’s very smart, very pretty and that you were spending time with her. Is she the one?”
“Yes.”
“What’s the problem? Isn’t love what we all seek?”
“How did you know Luca was the one?” he asked.
She broke eye contact for a few seconds, got busy fiddling with her napkin. “My father introduced me to two men. He told me to choose one. Neither were Luca.”
Gabriel had never heard this story.
“I met Luca at church. I was fourteen and had arrived late to mass one day. He was outside. I asked him why he hadn’t gone inside. He said, ‘God is in there and He doesn’t like sinners.’”
“God loves sinners,” Gabriel pushed back. “Those are the ones he wants to save.”
“I was intrigued,” Elsa said her eyes lighting up. “I invited him in with me. He accepted, even though we weren’t allowed to sit together.”
“Why?”
“The custom in Italy. Men on one side, women on the other.”
“One day, I didn’t go in. I stayed outside and talked to him.
That day we fell in love. He was from a poorer family than ours and my father had selected wealthier families for my husband.
When I refused, it created tension in the home.
I introduced Luca—who had secretly proposed to me—when I was sixteen and he eighteen.
Only my mother liked him. She told me he was going to provide for me because he adored me completely and would want the finest things for me. ”
“And?”
“She was right. We had a strong marriage. He rose to power in Cosa Nostra. Never took a mistress.” A smile filled her pretty face. “He told me I was more than he could handle and everything he’d always dreamed of.” Tears moistened her eyes.
Again Gabriel put his arm around his small grandmother, gave her a loving hug. “A beautiful love story, Elsa.”
The waiter delivered their lunches, returning with the coffee carafe to top off Elsa’s mug.