St Kilda Consulting 02 - Innocent as Sin

see you’ve done this before.”
    Bertone’s cigar hesitated on the way to his mouth. Then he smiled. “Elena was right. You’re intelligent. But I’m surprised. You act like you’ve been down this road before.”
    “It’s called the primrose path.” Kayla wanted to run, so she forced herself to stand and look down at both of them. “A girl knows she’s being seduced a long time before she feels the hand on her thigh.” She glanced at her unused coffee cup and plate. “Thanks for brunch.”
    She turned away.
    “One minute,” Bertone said, his voice like a whip. He picked up the Aruban bank draft and held it out to her. “Deposit this immediately. And I mean immediately.”
    With cold fingers Kayla took the check. There was no other choice. Not right now. Maybe not ever.
    She was trapped, helpless.
    For the first time in her life Kayla understood, really understood, why people killed.
    “Be sure you’re on time for the Fast Draw tomorrow,” Elena said. “It’s necessary for you to be there. And what is necessary to us, you will do.”
    “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.” Kayla turned and headed for the parking area.
    Bertone drew thoughtfully on his cigar, settled back in his chair, and watched Kayla walk away. She wasn’t in Elena’s class, but she was an interesting female all the same.
    “She’s not what I expected,” he said quietly.
    “She came to heel quickly enough.”
    He smiled. “I particularly liked the way she tried to turn the tables on us by hinting that she could be bought. That was deliciously inventive of her.”
    “Do you think she meant it?”
    “It doesn’t matter. Gabriel will follow her. Her desk, cell, and home phones are tapped. If she is foolish enough to go to the feds, Gabriel will stop her.”
    “I don’t like having her run around free,” Elena said.
    Bertone sighed. It wasn’t the first time the subject had come up. “After the Fast Draw event, I’ll give her to Gabriel, but only if he promises to keep her alive until the final transfer is made.”
    Elena looked thoughtful. She tapped her peach-colored fingernails on the surface of the table. “That leaves too much time before we physically control her. It’s still dangerous.”
    “Money always is. That’s why we have so much and others have so little. We risk.” He touched the frown lines between her dark brown eyes. “Don’t worry, beautiful one. As soon as Kayla transfers all the funds, Gabriel will silence her, the rebels will have the arms to overthrow Camgeria, and the oil concessions will be mine. Then you will dine with presidents and prime ministers as you desire.”
    But first I will kill Joao Fouquette.
    Money was useful, but there was nothing more valuable than power.

11
    North of Seattle
Friday
9:44 A.M. PST
    A ndre Bertone,” Rand said, handing Faroe a mug of black tea. “You’re sure?”
    “As sure as anyone can be in this business,” Faroe said. “He’s kept the identity for five years. Something of a record for him.”
    “Sounds more French than Russian. Possibly Argentine.”
    “It’s the name on his UN passport. He was Nicolas Gregori, aka the Siberian, when he killed Reed. Two weeks later Andre Bertone appeared with a cover story that went back to his mother’s milk.”
    “Busy boy.” Rand poured his own tea.
    “Oh, yeah. Bertone started out life as Victor Krout, a Siberian-born Russian. He was trained in the usual black arts at KGBU in Moscow. He speaks six languages, flies helos and airplanes, and practices tradecraft like a deep-cover agent.”
    “Is he?”
    “Doubt it,” Faroe said, yawning and stretching. “The Russians want Bertone’s ass. Something about unpaid taxes.”
    “Bet it’s more like unpaid kickbacks.”
    Faroe shrugged. “In some countries, kickbacks are just another name for taxes.”
    “What’s a former KGB agent doing with a United Nations passport?”
    “Ask Libya. Money and guns is my guess.”
    “The creds must come in handy for a globe-trotting international gunrunner,” Rand said.
    “Supposedly he’s not a gunrunner anymore,” Faroe said. “Now he has a bunch of shell companies and old friends standing between him and the obvious dirty stuff. The new and improved Andre Bertone is a respected and respectable international commodities broker. Oil, coltan, diamonds, timber, whatever one African backwater wants to sell and some first-world country wants to buy.”
    Sipping at the strong, murky