Chapter 33
At the same time Teddy finished up his call with Stacy, Marty was pacing through one of the bedrooms in Popov’s bungalow, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
It had been almost two hours since Vladimir had dumped him there, with the promise that he would come back for him when Popov was ready. Marty couldn’t even call anyone to let them know where he was because Vladimir had taken his phone. “For privacy reasons,” he’d said.
Marty’s mind churned with ever-increasing worst-case scenarios. Most involving his lifeless body being carried through the bungalow just like Katy Lane’s the last time he was here.
He was so deep in his mental spiral that he didn’t even hear the door open, clocking it only when he turned to pace toward the door and saw Vladimir standing there, arms crossed.
“Holy crap,” Marty said, his heart pounding. “How long have you been there?”
“Mr. Popov will see you now,” Vladimir said. “Hurry. He doesn’t like being kept waiting.”
That was rich, Marty thought, but kept it to himself.
He took a deep breath, then followed Vladimir through the bungalow, and out to the patio area, where Popov was lounging in the small private hot tub, a drink in his hand. Next to the hot tub was a patio table with two chairs, one of which was occupied by Vladimir’s brother, Aleksei.
Popov flashed a smile. “Marty, thank you for coming.” He nodded at the unoccupied chair. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”
Having no other choice, Marty sat down.
“Something to drink?” Popov asked.
“I’m fine.”
“Nonsense. Vladimir, get Marty something. I seem to remember you like whiskey, correct?”
“Sure,” Marty said.
Vladimir disappeared into the bungalow and quickly returned with a glass that he set on the table next to Marty.
Popov raised his glass. “To your health.”
Marty reluctantly picked up his. “To, um, yours.”
Popov laughed and polished off his drink. Marty moved his glass to his lips but didn’t actually take a sip. Who knew what could have been in it?
“So, Marty. Down to business, yes?”
“That’s sounds good.”
Popov stared at him expectantly.
Unsure of what he was waiting for, Marty glanced at Aleksei, whose blank expression was no help at all. “I’m sorry. What did you want to discuss?”
“You have something for me, yes?” Popov asked.
“Something for you? What do you mean?”
“Come now. You cannot be this stupid. What was our last meeting about?”
“Oh, information on RRE.”
“So?”
“It’s only Monday. I haven’t had the time to dig up anything yet.”
Popov raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had over a day and a half.”
“We weren’t open yesterday.”
“Which to me would have been a perfect opportunity to poke around, no?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve made a mistake in offering you this opportunity.”
Marty wished Popov hadn’t chosen him for the job either, but his instinct for self-preservation was strong enough to know that wasn’t what the man wanted to hear.
“You shouldn’t. I’m definitely the right one for the job. In fact, there isn’t anyone else at RRE who is better placed.”
“Are you sure? Maybe I could get better results if I talk to your boss. What is her name?”
“Emma Perez,” Aleksei said.
“That’s right. Emma Perez.”
“That would be a huge mistake,” Marty said. “She’d rat you out in a second and ruin everything. I guarantee it.”
Popov scrutinized him for a moment. “You seem very protective of her.”
“Protective? Of Emma? Not a chance. I just want what’s best for you.”
“Could it be that you and Dr. Perez are romantically involved?”
“God, no! We’re not even in the same league.”
“What does this mean? Same league.”
“Level,” Marty said. He held one hand above his head and the other in front of his waist, then wiggled the higher hand. “I’m up here.” He then wiggled the lower one. “And she’s way down here. Different levels.”
Popov snorted. “I would have thought it was the other way around.”
“Hardly. You just don’t know her like I do.”
“Then tell me, why are you so interested in her?”
Marty snorted. “I’m not interested in her.”
“You have been following her and trying to get inside her home, have you not?”
The blood drained from Marty’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Aleksei?”
Aleksei consulted his phone, then said, “Friday night, you followed her to a restaurant. Then Saturday, you tried to break into her house but ran away when the lights came on. Today, you were able to get inside because you had her dog.”
“How did you—”
“You have kept my brother very busy.”
Marty twisted around in his chair. “You—you’ve been following me?”
Vladimir stared at him without answering.
“That is not important,” Popov said. “But I think knowing why you are so interested in her is.”
“I’m not. I-I barely know her.”
Popov grimaced, disappointed. “I had assumed you figured this out already.”
“Figured what out?”
“You are mine. Everything about you is mine. Your life is mine. Which means whether you continue breathing or not is up to me. So, either you tell me why you are interested in Emma Perez or our arrangement will be terminated.”
Marty was under no illusions that terminating their arrangement just meant they’d just go their separate ways. His mind scrambled for a way to save his own hide but realized the truth was the only thing that gave him a chance of getting out of this relatively unscathed.
He took a deep breath, then told Popov everything.
When he finished, Popov asked, “What exactly is this project she is working on?”
“I don’t know the details, but from what I’ve gathered, it’s something revolutionary.”
“That sounds valuable.”
“It will be worth millions. Maybe even billions.” Marty could still see doubt in Popov’s eyes, so he added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was worth more than RRE.”
A spark of greed flickered in Popov’s eyes. “Is that so?”
“I’d stake my life on it.”
“Then let’s do that.”
“Let’s do what?”
“Stake your life on it. You will find out what Dr. Perez has developed and bring it to me. If I find it’s worth as much as you say, I’ll reward you. If not…”
“I didn’t really mean—”
“Can you find out or not?”
Words of equivocation raced to Marty’s lips, but he bit them back, knowing they would not help his cause. Instead, he said, “I-I can.”
Popov’s smile returned. “Good. And just so I’m clear, this is in addition to getting the dirt on RRE.”
“I, um, might need a little more time.”
Popov laughed. “No more time. Your deadline is Friday. But if I were you, I would get it done sooner. Understand?”
Marty nodded, no longer trusting his voice.
Popov looked over at Vladimir. “Please return Marty to wherever it was that you found him.”
“Right away, Mr. Popov.” Vladimir moved to Marty’s side. “Come with me.”
As Marty stood, Popov said, “One more thing. Vladimir will continue keeping a close eye on you. If you try to lose him, I will assume you have decided to renege on our agreement and will take appropriate action.”
Marty nodded again, then followed Vladimir out, knowing he was truly and completely screwed.
—
After Teddy finished talking to Stacy, he headed downstairs and took a stroll around the main pool area. At the rear, he turned down a path that meandered between the pool and the resort’s private bungalows.
According to the CIA database, Victor Popov was staying in bungalow number five. Teddy didn’t need to check the numbers to know which one it was. That was evident from the pair of tough Eastern European men standing to either side of one of the gates.
As he walked by them, he nodded and said, “Afternoon. How about this weather, huh?”
One of the men ignored him completely, while the other glanced at him, a scowl on his lips, before looking away again, both men making it clear they didn’t consider him a threat. If they’d been working for Teddy, he would have fired them on the spot.
He continued around the pool until he reached the outdoor bar, where he grabbed a table that gave him an unhindered view of the entrance to Popov’s bungalow.
A waitress approached. “Something to drink?”
“Margarita, please,” he said.
“You got it.”
As she walked off, Popov’s gate swung open, and the motorcyclist Teddy had seen at Emma’s place stepped out followed by none other than Marty Lundstrom.
Teddy watched them walk away and disappear down a path that led toward one of the resort’s exits.
He remained at the bar for another thirty minutes.
On his way out of the pool area, he paused beside a potted palm tree and placed a microcamera at the base of a branch, aimed at Popov’s bungalow.
Once back in his room, he brought up the feed on his laptop and settled in to wait.