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“You be careful. The Spaniard is coming for you.” Vadisk continued in English, probably for the benefit of his spouses.
Yet another enemy. Fun. But why would he be after her…
“Wait,” Nikolett said, propping herself up on one elbow. “What did he say, exactly? About me?”
“‘Tell your admiral I said hello.’”
“It might not meanyouradmiral,” a feminine voice said faintly in the background. Dahlia, Nikolett thought. Vadisk’s new wife. She briefly recalled the way Eric had reacted to hearing her name in the meeting, the way it had reminded him of his dead wife.
“What?” Nikolett and Vadisk said at the same time.
“I was listening. When I realized you ran after him. He said ‘your admiral’ but he used the formal, plural form of ‘your.’ ????, not ???.”
Nikolett’s Russian wasn’t good, but Vadisk cursed. “Fuck, you’re right.”
“His Russian wasn’t perfect,” Dahlia went on, “but it was good.”
“Fuck,” Vadisk cursed. “Time’s up.”
“Be safe,” Nikolett said. “I’ll call Hande and make sure there’s a ship waiting for you.”
The line went dead, but Nikolett’s phone rang immediately. Grigoris. He would have gotten a notice when she activated the lockdown. He was probably either on his way or already outside and unable to get into the house. She pressed her hands over her eyes, as if that would help her brain sort through and assess the new information.
The Spaniard wasn’t a member, but he knew details about the Masters’ Admiralty only a member should know.
He’d levied an implied threat at “your admiral,” but the grammar used could mean he wasn’t actually talking about Vadisk’s admiral, akaher.
For a moment, Nikolett was truly and completely overwhelmed. There were too many threats, too many terrible things headed her way.
It was time to change that.
Her successive, increasingly ridiculous but deadly assassination attempts were officially hindering her ability to do, well…anything. It was time to turn all her resources toward finding the person who wanted her dead, especially if that might lead them to the Spaniard. And that meant asking for help from outside her territory.
But itdidn’tmean asking the Spartan Guard or the fleet admiral for help.Lately, she’d been considering reaching out to Antonio Starabba, the admiral of Rome, to send people from Cohortes Praetoriae to help protect her as well as investigate where the threat was coming from.
Once, not very long ago, she would have turned to him, and not only because it was the practical thing to do. Whatever trust they’d shared had fractured six months ago and finally shattered when he’d decided at that meeting in Dublin to marry her off.
He’d have to be told about the Spaniard’s parting words, but she wouldn’t tell him about how many times she’d almost died. If the two things were related in any way, her investigation would uncover the connection.
Nikolett locked down the helpless feeling of being overwhelmed and answered her still-ringing phone, speaking to Grigoris who was, in fact, outside. Wearily, Nikolett dragged herself back to the control panel by the door to lift the lockdown.
Ten minutes later, she was in bed once more. Her leg had been bleeding—probably from when she fell—so Nyx changed the dressing, Elena arriving when the vice admiral was almost done. Now her freshly bandaged leg was elevated on a pillow.
Elena went to inject something into her IV, but Nikolett held up her hand. “No, I can’t pass out. Not until Vadisk and his spouses are safe.”
“Just something to take the edge off?” Elena urged.
Her leg felt like it was three times its normal size, and also on fire. “Small dose,” she conceded.
Grigoris was fiddling with her TV, speaking quietly into a headset. A second later, the screen blinked on. A slightly pixelated map appeared.
“The Trinity Masters were able to re-task a military satellite to watch what’s happening,” he said. “This is a live look at Crimea. Specifically, Vadisk’s location.”
“We’re going to watch the escape in real time?” Nyx asked.
“That’s the plan.”
Nikolett didn’t believe in any sort of higher power, but she clenched her fists, trying to will Vadisk the luck and skill he’d need to escape.
