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“About what, you Irish beggar?”
He leaned over and lightly bit her earlobe. “You are pretty.”
She whooshed out her breath, and he felt the warmth feather against his skin before she jerked back.
“Now, now, love, I know you want to kill me, but it isn’t going to happen. Sit still and be good.”
She was angry, frustrated at her own impotence. He said, “You know what’s in the box, don’t you?”
She said nothing.
“I’d guess it’s leverage, for blackmail. But you know something, lass? I don’t frigging care the first thing about it.” He thought it amusing that he’d had a hand in frustrating Petrov for over a month. Now it was nearly over.
Liam leaned over, brushed his knuckles against her cheek, and started singing “Molly Malone,” his grandda’s favorite song, in a fine baritone. “?‘In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone—’?”
Elena closed her eyes, reminded herself Sergei would let her kill him as soon as he had the chance.
43
SERGEI PETROV’S HOUSE
SOUTH OF ALEXANDRIA
WEDNESDAY MORNING
Henley settled the helicopter once again on its pad on the barren stretch of land off the Potomac, turned off the rotors, and started his checklist. Liam said, “Good job, mate. Are you going to get reimbursed for the fifty bucks?”
Henley shook his head. “Consider it my contribution to Major Hummer’s welfare, Mr. Hennessey. Is Krug champagne really that good?”
“The ambrosia of the gods; give it a try.” Liam lifted Elena out of the helicopter and stomped his feet in the shoes Abram had given him. They were too big for him, which was good, since there was a thick bandage wrapped around his heel. The shoes were white patent leather, made him feel like Elvis. Best yet, they didn’t hurt his heel.
“My turn,” he said to Henley, and hoisted Elena up into his arms. “Don’t move or I’ll drop you on your head. Then who knows what I’ll do?”
The area looked deserted once again, but Liam knew Petrov would be prepared for him this time. He’d be safe only until he delivered the metal box to him, and then he’d have only Elena and the gun to her head to keep him alive. Good thing for him Petrov held her in high affection. A slight breeze rustled the oak leaves as he walked behind Henley, his every sense alert for any movement. He sniffed the air, recalling the odd citrus smell Abram had worn, but there was nothing.
Petrov and Abram were waiting for him on the porch, both men standing quietly, watching them approach, Petrov’s eyes on the metal box in his hand. Petr
ov had to know Liam could shoot him where he stood, a bullet to his forehead.
Liam wasn’t invited into the house this time.
“Give Elena to Henley, Mr. Hennessey, then place the box on the porch.”
Liam eased her down and stood her against Henley. He never took his eyes off Petrov as he placed the metal box at the edge of the porch. He stepped back, waved the Walther. “Now the four million dollars, Mr. Petrov.”
Petrov picked up a bulging satchel from behind him and laid it next to the metal box, stepped back.
“Ralph, ease Elena onto the ground and fetch the satchel,” Liam said. Henley did as he was told.
“Now open the satchel, count the money out loud.”
Petrov made a disgusted sound.
When Henley finished counting, he looked a bit shell-shocked. “I’ve never seen so much cash before. It’s correct, four million.”
“Take a couple of hundred for your efforts,” Liam said, and watched Ralph peel off two hundred-dollar bills. “Now pick up Elena.”
Liam waved the Walther at the metal box. “It’s all yours, Mr. Petrov. You want to check it?”
