Second Strike

CHAPTER 61

^MOSCOW,

^{AUGUST 17, 7:27 P.M. MSK}

Egorshin answered the knock on the door of Tatiana Palinieva’s apartment immediately. It was Sergei Morosov.

“Come in.”

Egorshin led Morosov to the living room, where they sat in opposing chairs.

“Tatiana is at a production meeting. She will be gone for some time,” Egorshin said, rubbing his hands nervously. “Stetchkin is going to kill me. I can feel it. His behavior toward me is incomprehensible. He hates me for no reason.”

“I have spoken to Vasiliev, Piotr.”

“You have? Thank you. Has he spoken to Mikhailov?”

“Yes.” Morosov crossed his legs. “Piotr, what do you know of Tatiana’s past relationships?”

Egorshin looked befuddled. “Why do you ask?”

“I should be more direct. I suspect you have absolutely no idea that a few years ago Tatiana spurned the advances of one Aleksandr Stetchkin?”

Egorshin sat straight with his hands on his knees, a look of surprise on his face. “What? How did you get this information?”

“I am SVR.”

“What do you mean she spurned him?”

“From what I gather, Stetchkin became enamored…” Morosov paused. “No, enthralled with Tatiana when she was still in the fashion industry. He arranged to meet her. I am told—I do not know how my sources know this, but it is eminently believable—that he assisted her transition to television, that he is the reason she got the opportunity to host her program. She gladly took advantage of the opportunity. The story I was told is that she manipulated Stetchkin’s affections quite adroitly until she was secure in her position and then ignored him. She did not take his calls. She refused to see him.”

“Tatiana is the reason Stetchkin hates me?”

“It appears so.”

“She never told me anything about this. She knows I have been experiencing difficulties with Stetchkin, but she never uttered a word.”

“Perhaps she’s not proud of her actions, but it is not as if her conduct was unique in history. And Stetchkin certainly hoped that Tatiana would accept his offer of assistance. Whether she reciprocated as he hoped was a gamble, not a contract.”

“So Stetchkin wants me out of the way so he may pursue Tatiana.”

“So to speak.”

The look on Egorshin’s face was that of near panic. Morosov leaned forward and patted his nephew’s knee.

“Calm yourself, Piotr. Mikhailov is just as ruthless as Stetchkin, but smarter. More important, Mikhailov is president. He will not permit Stetchkin to harm you.”

“Are you certain? I may only be of use to Mikhailov until…”

Egorshin fell silent.

“I know you are involved in something of importance to Mikhailov, Piotr. I am informed that Mikhailov considers you valuable even after the important thing is concluded, whatever it may be.”

“That would give me comfort if I thought Stetchkin were rational. A rational person would not do anything to incur Mikhailov’s displeasure, let alone his wrath. I remain concerned that Stetchkin will let his impulses overcome his intelligence.”

“Vasiliev informs me that Mikhailov made clear to Stetchkin that he was to leave you alone. Stetchkin has been around too long to make the mistake of letting his interest in women negatively affect his fortunes—even a woman as attractive as Tatiana.”

Egorshin shook his head. “All of this for Tatiana? Do not misunderstand. Of course she is attractive. Spectacular. But it is crazy for a man as powerful as Stetchkin to jeopardize his position for her. And I believe he is crazy. Anyone who saw what he did to Uganov would concur.”

Morosov smiled. “So, I suspect, since you are my sister’s son and since my sister is insufferably prepared for any and every eventuality, that you have made plans to further protect yourself.”

“I have not.”

Morosov arched his eyebrows. “That is not like Svetlana.”

“I have made preparations, but not to protect myself. Such preparations are futile. If Stetchkin is determined enough to try to kill me in defiance of Mikhailov, then I am a dead man. Nothing can save me. So I have made other preparations.”

“To what end?”

“Revenge.”

“Revenge? How does a dead man exact revenge?”

“Through his uncle, the magician.”

“You are asking me to kill Stetchkin? Do you want our entire family killed?”

“I do not want you to kill Stetchkin. Mikhailov will do it.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

Egorshin reached into his pocket, pulled out a small object, and pressed it into his uncle’s palm. Morosov examined it with a quizzical expression. “And what is this?”

“Revenge.”