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Ariadna quietly lays the portfolio on the table in front of me.
“They’ve seized his office computers.”
“And?”
“They executed search warrants at three additional locations.”
I flip open the portfolio. Photographs, men crowding out of the tight apartment he keeps in downtown Lake Placid, evidence boxes, yellow tape.
Which means two blocks away they did the same at Deep Waters’ accounting offices. I flip the page and confirm that assumption with another collection of photos.
“They didn’t find this themselves,” I say, and look at Ariadna. Her face is completely impassive. It’s not a good sign.
“Someone pointed them in the right direction,” she says flatly. “Or at least tipped them off.”
“But you don’t know who.”
“Not yet.”
I can practically feel her held breath in my own chest. It’s been almost three hours since Mikhail was arrested, and I’m slightly disappointed that she doesn’t have more information.
Silence settles over the porch.
The lake continues shimmering as though the world hasn’t just shifted beneath my feet.
Finally, Beaumont folds his hands behind his back.
“I’ll be frank, Vasily. It does not look good.”
No, it doesn’t. If Mikhail falls, he won’t fall alone.
Ariadna is the first to move.
She slips into the chair opposite mine, smoothing her skirt before crossing one elegant ankle over the other. If someone wandered onto the porch right now, they’d think we were discussing gala invitations instead of the possible collapse of a criminal empire. Beaumont remains standing. He always does when the news is bad, as though sitting might suggest there is time to be comfortable. Or maybe the arthritis is finally settling in.
I find myself slightly annoyed at his lack of urgency. Closing the portfolio, I ask, “What do we actually know?”
“Very little,” the lawyer answers. “The arrest warrant references fraud. He’s waiting for arraignment; we’ll find out what release conditions they’re asking for then. I’ll know more when I get there later today.”
“Federal?”
“No. State investigators, for now.”
For now.
The words settle heavily between us. State investigators can become federal investigators with one phone call and the right evidence.
“When do you see him?”
“I’ve arranged to meet him at the station in two hours.”
“And after that?”
“If he isn’t released after arraignment, they’ll transfer him to the county jail in Lewis.”
The jail in Essex County. Close enough that I could drive there, but this isn’t something even I can make disappear—they already have their claws in us.
“Mikhail won’t say anything,” Ariadna says quietly.
