The Project 04 - Black Harvest

shook himself like a great northern bear. He reached down for the vodka, put the bottle to his lips and drank. His mind began planning, calculating. This was now a matter of honor. Bagrat. How had he let this happen?
    Once it was known a woman had done this there would be loss of respect. There would be jokes, trouble. An example would have to be made. And who had fired the shots? Who dared?
    "Tell me what is known."
    Iosif cleared his throat. "Bagrat was under guard. Someone, a man, posed as another Interpol cop. He used a silenced weapon. No one knew anything until a nurse found the guard outside Bagrat's room. No one heard the shots."
    "Bagrat and three cops."
    "Yes, Boss."
    "Go to Greece. Take three men, good ones. Find the woman. Find out anything you can. And Iosif."
    "Yes, Boss?"
    "I want this woman. And the man who did this. We are clear?"
    Iosif was very clear. He was on the chopping block. His only hope was to find the woman or book a one-way ticket to somewhere obscure and far away from Moscow.
    "Yes, Boss. Clear."
    "Iosif."
    "Yes, Boss?"
    "Don't come back without her. Go."
    Iosif went. He closed the study door behind him. Zviad's wife stepped from the shadows where she'd been listening.
    Bedisa had been born and raised in Georgia. She had heard the conversation. She knew honor demanded revenge. She knew Zviad was obsessed with respect. The woman, whoever she was, was as good as dead. She would wish for death many times over if Zviad found her.
    She brushed her long black hair back over her shoulders. The movement accented her full breasts. She put her finger to her lips. Iosif watched her. They could hear Zviad pacing back and forth in his study, cursing. His heavy footsteps vibrated out into the hall.
    She went to Iosif and ran her fingers over his face, stroked his crotch, kissed him.
    "Are you insane?" he hissed. "What if he comes out?"
    "He will not come out. I will go in and calm him."
    Iosif had been sleeping with Bedisa for the last six months. At first he'd wondered why she'd chosen him, or why he'd let it continue. Perhaps it was the danger. Discovery by Zviad would have been terrible. The fear added an adrenaline rush to their furious and inventive sex.
    The sex. Bedisa was not like any other woman he had ever known. She was unique. What she could do with her body, with his, astounded him. She was beautiful, not the kind of woman who normally found Iosif attractive. He knew he was no prize for looks. Iosif was hopelessly in love with her.
    After a month she'd begun to talk about Zviad. About Iosif as the new boss. About what they could do together if Zviad was not around any longer.
    Zviad was as paranoid as he was shrewd. He had a servant taste his food. He was always protected. He never ventured far from Moscow, though sometimes he went to his villa near Tbilisi, surrounded by bodyguards. He was not an easy man to kill. Bedisa knew Iosif couldn't just kill him and take over. It had to look as if someone else had done it. Otherwise there would be vendettas.
    Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "Find the woman. Then lure Zviad to wherever she is and kill him. We'll never have a better chance."
    Iosif nodded. "I don't know..."
    Bedisa ran her hand down over his crotch, cupped him and squeezed. She ran her tongue into his ear.
    "All right."
    "Good."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

    In Virginia, Harker listened to Nick on her speakerphone.
    "No one heard the shots?"
    "The first anyone knew was when a nurse found the dead guard. The room was a bloodbath. The Greek cop we were working with was killed. Not much loss there."
    "What did the killer look like?"
    "Like a cop. He had Interpol ID. The duty nurse had seen one just like it not long before. She thought he was with the others. The receptionist downstairs said he was well-dressed, polite, short hair and cop looking."
    "What does that mean?"
    "Hard. Cold eyes, like he'd seen too much. Those were her words. The eyes bothered her. He showed her Interpol ID also."
    Across the ocean, Nick waited.
    "This doesn't feel like a gang hit, someone in competition with the Georgian bunch."
    "Silenced weapon, phony ID, clean getaway. More like an agency of some kind. Mossad, CIA, like that."
    "If it's an agency, why kill their own agent? "
    "Good question. This guy was no ordinary kidnapper. His brother runs the gang. I think he's after Alexander's loot. Someone had to steer him to Greece. Selena thinks we might discover who it was by feeding out information. See what