Chapter 21
“Mr. Popov?” Aleksei said from the other side of the bedroom door. “Are you up?”
Popov groaned, then opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Nine-thirty. Your breakfast is here.”
Popov grunted in acknowledgment, then climbed out of bed, donned a robe, and went into the living room.
“Good morning, Mr. Popov,” Aleksei said.
“Good morning, Mr. Popov,” the two other men who were there echoed in unison.
Without saying anything, Popov shuffled over to the dining table, where his breakfast waited, and started eating.
It wasn’t until he was halfway through his omelet that he finally spoke. “Schedule?”
Aleksei opened his phone. “Massage at eleven, lunch at Farm at two, and dinner this evening at Le Vallauris. The reservation is for eight p.m., but I can change that if you’d like.”
Popov grunted and took another bite of his food.
“There is one thing we need to make a decision about.”
Popov waved for him to go on.
“What to do about the woman.”
Popov’s fork paused midway in the air. He’d forgotten about Katy.
When he’d seen her at the side of the road, the only thing he could think about was getting her into his bed. But then she had overheard his conversation with Vladimir. Even that would have been okay if she hadn’t known who Emma Perez was.
But now she had information that could cause him some problems. And Popov did not like problems.
“Is she awake yet?” he asked.
Aleksei looked over at the other two men. “Erik, go check.”
Erik disappeared into the hallway.
“What’s going on with Lundstrom?” Popov asked.
“He went straight home last night and hasn’t left since. Vladimir is watching his place now.”
Erik jogged back from the hallway, looking worried. “There’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Aleksei asked.
“You should come see,” Erik said.
“Do not tell me you let her get away,” Popov snapped.
“No, sir,” Erik said. “She’s still there.”
“Then what is it?”
“I-I think she’s dead.”
Popov pushed out his chair as Aleksei raced toward the bedroom.
When Popov arrived, Aleksei was on the other side of the bed, his fingers on Katy’s neck.
“Well?” Popov asked.
Aleksei slowly stood up. “She’s gone.”
Popov frowned. While he’d already decided to have her terminated, he would have preferred for her death to occur somewhere other than in his bungalow.
Barely controlling his anger, he said, “Can someone tell me why she is dead?”
Aleksei looked at Erik. “Did something happen last night?”
“She woke up around seven a.m. and said she needed to go home. Grigoriy gave her another shot to put her back to sleep.”
“Grigoriy? Why not you?”
Erik had been the one Aleksei had instructed on the use of the sedative.
“I went out to get us coffee.”
“You weren’t even here?” Aleksei asked incredulously.
Erik licked his lips nervously. “No.”
“Grigoriy!” Aleksei called.
The other man appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Yes?”
“You gave the woman another shot?”
“She kept trying to get out of bed. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“How much?”
“Just one shot.”
“Not how many shots! How much sedative did you put in the syringe?”
“Em, I just filled it and gave it to her.”
Aleksei stared at him. “Where is it?”
Grigoriy looked around until he spotted the trash can. He pulled the syringe out and handed it to Aleksei. On the side was a gauge that went from zero to ten.
“Filled it to where?” Aleksei demanded.
“To the end. Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?”
“You gave her—” Aleksei cut himself off and closed his eyes. She’d been given the equivalent of four doses at once. When he felt marginally back in control, he looked at his boss. “I’m sorry, Mr. Popov. I take full responsibility for this.”
While Popov had at first been annoyed by the turn of events, an idea had come to him while Aleksei and Grigoriy were talking, one that had a very good chance of causing problems for RRE.
“We’ll clean up this mess,” Aleksei went on. “And I will—”
Popov held up a hand. “Quiet!”
Everyone froze and looked at him.
Popov grinned. “Here is what I want you to do.”