“No.”
“Fine, I’ll get it from Grigory, then.”
He frowned, but then recited the numbers.
Kira
This is Kira. I want my mother’s paintings.
Luka
No. But you can see them.
I think we can make a deal.
What do you have to offer?
Does the Russian government know about the spying?
Of course. I was passing on the information they wanted me to.
No. I mean the *real* spying. The information my mother gave to Conrad. Things that make you a traitor and, if it came out, would destroy Reuben’s political ambitions.
Dots appeared and disappeared. A minute passed with no reply. She tried another tactic.
You paid the man pretending to be my cousin to lure me here. Did you know Reuben used the information he gave you to try to stop me from coming?
Take the helicopter. I will tell the pilot to bring you to the villa so we can talk. Alone.
Chapter Fifty-One
Reuben snatched the phone from her hand. He read the messages, then dropped it on the floor and slammed his heel down on the glass screen. “Don’t think you can play me against our father, baby sister. You don’t know him like I do.”
She had to swallow her fear. She didn’t need the phone. She had the pendant camera. She wasn’t alone. His every word and action were being watched and recorded.
“It seems to me you should want me to go to Luka, because if I stay here, I’ll tell Grigory exactly what Benny did last week.”
His eyes widened and his face drained of color. “You know nothing.”
“Which one of you has set his sights on the presidency? Was the mercenary who led the coup that failed last week working for you? Was it supposed to be a double whammy—weaken the president while strengthening your power among the ruling class? The coup didn’t even need to succeed—you just needed to show people are willing to stand up to him.”
His face had turned a ruddy red.
“Does Grigory know you intend to seize power over him? This nonsense with me marrying Aleksandr, is that meant to give him motive to support you over himself? His son, brother-in-law to the new Russian president, guaranteeing him a seat of power for the next decade or two?”
“You don’t think I’d make a good president, sister?”
“It’s possible anyone would be better than the current one, but no, I don’t think you’re the replacement the world needs. For starters, you lack experience.”
“Oh, but baby sister, there you’re wrong. Like our father before me, I have long held a covert role in the FSB. I was handpicked by Yeltsin in the last year of his presidency.”
Reuben was FSB? She should have guessed. He’d been controlling everything. Even pushing Andre to the point that he unraveled and came after her. “Did Cousin Andre know what you are?”
“No. He had no idea he was working for me.”
“Is he alive?”
“I’ll take you to him so you can see.”
That didn’t sound good. “Pass, thanks. What does Luka think of your plans to become president?”
“He is pleased I am rebuilding our power after he nearly destroyed us, sharing far more than he was supposed to with Conrad.”
She rather suspected their mother was to blame for that. The villa in Malta was made for intelligence gathering—secret hallways, vents that carried conversations. Kira remembered playing “telephone” with Reuben—and probably Clara—through those vents.
She’d bet Mom had done her own intelligence gathering and had delivered the real information to Conrad. It’s probably why her dad had been able to arrange for hers and Kira’s extraction from the household.
Had Luka discovered her spying? “You said earlier Mom was sick in the weeks before we went out on the boat. What was wrong with her?”
“How would I know? She didn’t let us see her.”
Had she been hiding bruises because Luka caught her?
She shook her head. That could be sorted out later. She needed to see if she could get more from Reuben while he was feeling confessional. He was certain he had Kira cornered, no idea others were listening.
A tête-à-tête with his powerless sister in Grigory’s art gallery. In his mind, she was utterly alone. Even her boyfriend couldn’t be trusted. He was probably busy having sex with a maid.
