Gambit David Hagberg (most read books in the world of all time TXT) 📖

“Goddamnit. Turn around and take me back to the airport. I want to get out of here.”

“Sorry, but it’s too late for that.”

Susan flared. “I can go any fucking place I want to go, whenever I want. I’m not one of your fucking employees.”

“No,” Hammond said, almost sorry that he had dragged her into this mess. “You’re not an employee, you’re a partner. And a woman I happen to be in love with.”

Her face sagged. “A woman with blood on her hands. And now that Russian wolfhound is at the house. His goons have to be following us.”

“They are.”

“Why?”

“I think that he wants to protect his investment.”

“What investment? What else have you gotten yourself into?”

“Gazprom wants some natural gas pipelines into Western Europe, and they want to use my contacts in a blind deal. The government is to be at arm’s length. It’s supposed to be nothing more than an investment on my part.”

“How many millions this time?”

“Not millions,” Hammond said. “Five billion.”

Susan sat back. “Jesus,” she said softly.

They were on the corniche, only a couple of miles away from the villa now.

“I agreed to at least try to work the deal, but in return, I wanted a special favor from him and his friends in Moscow.”

“To find assassins willing to take out McGarvey.”

“Yeah.”

“They want McGarvey dead, but they don’t want Putin to be blamed. You’ve become their patsy because of some fucking game you want to play.”

Hammond couldn’t look away from her. He nodded.

“Let’s just walk away while we still can.”

“It’s too late.”

“If you’re worried about the Chinese couple coming after us, just tell them to drop the assignment, but pay their entire fee. It’d be a win-win for them. They get the money but don’t have to take the risk.”

“Unfortunately, we’re past that option.”

Peter Wallace, their chef du villa, was waiting for them when they got off the elevator. “Welcome home, sir, miss,” he said. “I’ve placed your guest on the veranda.”

“You’re fired, Mr. Wallace. I want you gone from this property within the hour.”

“Sir?”

“Rule number one: loyalty. Never let someone into your employer’s house without first asking for permission.”

“But, Mr. Hammond, the gentleman has been here quite often over the past year. He spoke of you as an old friend. I only assumed that he was a favored guest.”

Hammond was taken aback. But it explained one thing about Tarasov’s knowledge. He’d installed bugs in the villa.

“I’m so sorry, sir. It definitely was my mistake. I’ll just get my things and be gone.”

“Wait,” Hammond said. “I didn’t realize who you let in, and you were absolutely right to do so. You made no mistake, I did. I can only offer you my apology and ask you to remain as chief of my house staff.”

Peter nodded. “Your apology is accepted, Mr. Hammond, and I’ll carry on, if I may.”

“Please do.”

“A bottle of Krug is on ice for you and the miss.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

Tarasov was sitting at a table on the veranda sipping a small glass of iced vodka as he looked toward the lake, his back to the french doors from the house. He was dressed in his usual dark blue blazer, a white shirt, and khakis. All very American.

Hammond, Susan at his side, stopped at the doors for just a moment. He’d tried to keep Susan out of this meeting, but she’d insisted that since she had become a part of it—her hands bloodied—she would remain in 100 percent.

“Welcome home, you two,” Tarasov said without turning. “This is a lovely spot.”

“I’m a little surprised to see you here this morning,” Hammond said. He and Susan walked out and sat at the table.

Tarasov smiled and poured champagne for both of them. “I took the liberty of ordering the wine. I thought you might want to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” Susan asked.

“That you two have come so far with your little game and are still intact.”

“What are you talking about, you son of a bitch?” Hammond demanded. He was angry and shaken because he was beginning to realize where the Russian was going.

“That Mr. McGarvey hasn’t figured out yet who’s gunning for him and come here to return the favor.”

“It’s not possible.”

“Ah, but Ms. Patterson may have given up the clue that could help Mr. Rencke to unravel your plot.”

“I didn’t do anything of the sort,” Susan flared.

“But you did, my dear hedonist, by opening your mouth on camera in Seattle.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked. “I’m a movie star; the interview was expected of me. Had I ducked out, it would have caused all sorts of fucking speculations.”

“You’ve bugged this house,” Hammond said.

“Da,” Tarasov said.

“I’ll hire people to dispose of them.”

“They won’t be found. Nor will the others we’ve placed here and there.”

“I’ll get someone who’s good enough.”

“But mine are the best. You can’t imagine the people we listen to and the stories I could tell.”

“Your friends are Russian spies?” Susan demanded.

Tarasov shrugged. “I have many friends, my dear lady, including you and Thomas.”

“My jet is on its way back to LA for its annual maintenance inspection. Your bugs will be found.”

Tarasov was unconcerned. “Not unless the mechanics are looking for them.”

Hammond sat back, resigned. “You’re here. What do you want?”

“We’ve gone this far with our dealmaking; I merely want to take the next step with you.”

“You have transcripts from the bugs?”

“And from other sources. In fact, I have recordings of your hiring the two shooters who’ve failed, plus your conversations aboard the Glory with your new Chinese friends.”

“Proves nothing, except that a Russian intelligence operation has been mounted against me.”

“We have your banking activities as well. The gold you deposited into the Scorpions’ account, and even the millions you laid down at Codecasa’s for your new yacht. The Susan P. A beautiful name for a beautiful ship.” Tarasov sipped his vodka and smiled, the gesture almost ironic. “That is, if you live long enough to accept her.”

Hammond was shaken.

“Which is why I’m here, and why we’ve gone through all the trouble to help