Savage Son (James Reece #3) - Jack Carr Page 0,78

landholdings in Montana as well as sizable sums in various investment vehicles. Jonathan Hastings had done very well for himself.

He examined the reports for Raife and Victoria Hastings and found nothing actionable. The final report was for Hanna Hastings. According to her social media profile, she was working in Romania on some type of agricultural project.

Aleksandr’s thumb and forefinger sensuously rubbed the human hair bracelet on his desk. Feeling a spark of arousal, he picked up the phone and placed a call.

CHAPTER 49

Saint Petersburg, Russia

GREY WALKED INTO THE office. His steps were slow and heavy and the gleam in his eyes had been replaced by a dull stare. He had aged over the last forty-eight hours. Svetlana felt a flicker of empathy for the man, as not all of her affection for Grey was false. Over the years, she had learned to find some attractive quality in each of her subjects so that she could make the illusion of her attraction to them real. In Grey, she had found intelligence and an almost boyish innocence that brought out her own maternal instincts. Still, his seduction was a job, a way to survive. Her mother had taught her that if she did not look out for herself, no one would. Her mother had been right.

The look on her face was one of genuine sympathy when she took his coat and bid him good morning. Grey acted as if she were invisible as he walked into his office and stared blankly at the monitor before him.

His plan had failed. Reece was alive, and a dozen of Zharkov’s men were presumed dead. His operation had been a complete disaster. If this had happened back at the Agency, he would have been ruined, banished to sort mail the remainder of his career. Here, however, he was afraid that he would meet a different end, one that might involve a bullet and a ditch.

There was nowhere else for him to run. He would march down to Ivan’s office, give him a full report, and throw himself on the mercy of the Pakhan. He asked Svetlana to set the meeting and occupied his time by arranging the documents for the brief. Forty-five minutes later he looked at the Rolex on his wrist. It was time. He rose from his desk and marched dutifully toward his judgment.

One of the double doors to Ivan’s office was partially open and Grey rapped lightly to announce his presence. The patriarch looked up from a stack of papers on his desk and beckoned the former CIA man inside. To Grey’s relief, there was no plastic on the floor and no thugs waiting in the corner to drag him away. The office, half-encapsulated in the mirrored glass that made up the building’s exterior, was tastefully decorated with relics of Zharkov’s travels: a basket of tribal spears in the corner, a Cossack’s saber hanging on the wall. The most striking element, though, was the lion. A snarling black-maned cat stood mounted behind Ivan like a guardian in contrast to the Russian’s measured demeanor. It stood for the power of the brotherhood that he led. Ivan could speak softly because there was an army of lions behind him, waiting to pounce.

He motioned for Grey to sit and offered him tea. Grey politely declined.

“Pakhan, I will get right to the point. I have some very bad news to deliver.”

“Go on.”

“The operation in the U.S. appears to have met with unexpected resistance. Someone must have warned James Reece of the attack; he stopped just shy of the ambush, turned around, and sped off. Vitya’s team pursued him to the Hastingses’ ranch but that was the last we heard from them. I cannot reach Dimitry. I fear the worst.”

Ivan paused as if deep in thought. He already knew about the disaster in Montana but feigned ignorance.

“What do you think went wrong, Oliver?”

“I don’t know, sir. It’s possible that U.S. intelligence caught wind of it somehow, but I used every method available to avoid their detection. I know how they work. The only plausible explanation is that we were betrayed.”

“You’re saying we have a traitor in our midst?”

“I don’t know. Maybe if we can figure out the ‘why’ we will figure out the ‘who’? Why would someone in your organization, our organization, want to help Reece?”

“What do you know about lions, Oliver?”

“Lions?” Grey asked, slightly confused.

“Yes, lions. Panthera leo. African lions.”

“I’m not much of an outdoor person.”

“Well, I know them, Oliver. I hunted for twenty-one days before I

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