Chapter 6 - The encrypted telephone rang at 2:17 in the morning.
Tessa opened her eyes immediately.
She did not move for the first second.
Darkness filled Roman’s bedroom, broken only by the distant silver glow of Baltimore through the reinforced glass walls. Rain had stopped sometime after midnight. Water still traveled slowly down the windows in crooked lines, catching the lights of the harbor below.
Beside her, Roman slept on his back.
One arm remained beneath her pillow.
The other rested loosely over her waist.
Tessa had learned during the previous two weeks that Roman Valorie did not sleep like an ordinary man.
He did not toss.
He did not snore.
He barely seemed to breathe.
Even unconscious, some part of him remained alert.
The telephone rang again.
A low vibration followed.
Roman’s eyes opened.
There was no confusion inside them.
No transition from sleep to consciousness.
One second, he was resting.
The next, Roman Valorie was awake.
His hand moved from Tessa’s waist toward the weapon inside the bedside drawer.
Tessa caught his wrist.
“It is mine.”
Roman stopped.
The encrypted telephone continued vibrating inside the pocket of the blazer Tessa had abandoned over a chair.
Neither of them spoke.
Roman looked toward the clock.
2:17 a.m.
Only three people possessed the number.
Carmine.
The foreign accountant.
Roman.
And Roman was lying beside her.
Tessa left the bed.
She wore one of Roman’s white shirts, the sleeves folded loosely above her wrists. Her bare feet moved silently across the black flooring.
The device vibrated again.
Tessa removed it from the pocket.
No caller identification appeared.
The screen displayed only a single encrypted connection symbol.
She answered.
“Speak.”
Roman looked toward her.
A faint expression crossed his face.
Tessa had used his word.
There was silence.
Then breathing.
Not frightened breathing.
Controlled.
Male.
Someone deliberately allowing her to hear him.
Tessa’s body became still.
“Ms. Quinn.”
The voice was unfamiliar.
Older.
Educated.
There was a slight European accent beneath the English.
Roman rose from the bed.
Tessa raised one hand.
Do not speak.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
The caller continued.
“I was curious whether Roman had truly given you the black telephone.”
Tessa looked toward him.
Roman’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
And something colder.
Something she had never seen.
“Who is this?”
Tessa asked.
The man released a quiet laugh.
“I expected him to warn you.”
Roman was already dressing.
Black trousers.
Holster.
Shirt.
Every movement precise.
Tessa watched him while keeping the device against her ear.
“I do not respond well to people who call me at 2:00 in the morning without identifying themselves.”
“You sound exactly as described.”
The man seemed pleased.
“Efficient.”
A pause.
“Cold.”
Another pause.
“Much more interesting than the reception secretary Roman apparently found at a desk.”
Tessa’s jaw tightened.
Roman crossed the bedroom.
He extended his hand toward the telephone.
Tessa moved backward.
No.
His eyes became harder.
She wanted information.
The stranger had called her.
Not Roman.
That distinction mattered.
“What do you want?”
Tessa asked.
“I want Roman to understand that the peace he has enjoyed was borrowed.”
The caller’s amusement disappeared.
“Nothing more.”
A click followed.
The connection terminated.
Tessa stared at the dark screen.
Roman removed the telephone from her hand.
“Who was he?”
She asked.
Roman said nothing.
He examined the device and entered a sequence of numbers.
The call record disappeared immediately.
Tessa folded both arms.
“Roman.”
His attention remained over the screen.
“Get dressed.”
“Who was he?”
“We are leaving.”
Tessa did not move.
Roman finally looked toward her.
The polished executive mask had returned.
That irritated her more than fear would have.
“You gave me that telephone because you said it represented authority.”
Tessa’s voice remained controlled.
“If I am expected to answer threats made through it, I require context.”
Roman walked toward the wardrobe.
“You require clothing.”
“No.”
He stopped.
Tessa had never raised her voice to him.
She did not need to.
“Do not reduce me to something you need to move between secure locations.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You told me there was no return from your world.”
“I accepted.”
She pointed toward the telephone.
“Now your world has called me.”
Roman looked toward her for several seconds.
The muscles inside his jaw tightened.
Finally, he placed the device over the bedside table.
“His name is Viktor Saranov.”
Tessa waited.
Roman continued.
“He controlled the northeastern corridor before I did.”
“Organized crime?”
“Among other things.”
Roman pulled a black sweater from the wardrobe and handed it to her.
Tessa took it without looking away.
“Russian?”
“Ukrainian father.”
“Serbian mother.”
Roman’s expression remained unreadable.
“He built his organization inside Europe before expanding through Montreal, Boston, and Baltimore.”
“What happened?”
“I happened.”
The answer was simple.
Tessa began dressing.
Roman stood near the window.
The city remained dark beneath them.
“Ten years ago, I was 27.”
His voice lost its corporate smoothness.
“I worked beneath a man named Salvatore Valorie.”
“Your father?”
“My uncle.”
Roman looked toward the harbor.
“My father died when I was 12.”
“Salvatore raised me.”
Tessa fastened her trousers.
She had worked for Roman for 3 years.
She had never heard him discuss family.
Not once.
“Salvatore entered an agreement with Viktor.”
Roman continued.
“Ports.”
“Warehouses.”
“Distribution.”
“Saranov supplied merchandise through Canada.”
“We transported it south.”
“For approximately 3 years, the arrangement produced more money than either side could reasonably spend.”
Tessa understood the next part before he said it.
“Then somebody wanted more.”
Roman looked toward her.
“Viktor always wanted more.”
He collected his jacket.
“Salvatore refused to surrender 2 warehouses near the harbor.”
“So Viktor killed him?”
“No.”
Roman’s voice became very quiet.
“He killed everyone else.”
Tessa stopped.
Roman did not.
“He invited Salvatore to dinner.”
“A negotiation.”
“There were 11 Valorie people inside the restaurant.”
“My uncle.”
“My cousin.”
“Two captains.”
“Seven guards.”
Roman adjusted the cuff of his shirt.
“Viktor placed explosives beneath the kitchen.”
Tessa said nothing.
Roman looked toward the city again.
“I was late.”
“Why?”
“My uncle had sent me to collect financial records from an accountant.”
“A punishment for arguing with him earlier that day.”
Roman’s mouth shifted without humor.
“He said responsibility would teach me patience.”
He finally faced her.
“I arrived 4 minutes after the building exploded.”
Silence pressed through the bedroom.
Tessa understood.
Roman’s obsession with ledgers.
His control.
His refusal to arrive late.
His need to know where his people were.
Every detail suddenly possessed a beginning.
“What did you do?”
Roman picked up the encrypted telephone.
“I destroyed Viktor’s organization.”
His answer contained no pride.
“I spent 18 months dismantling his routes.”
“I purchased his police contacts.”
“I recruited his accountants.”
“I turned 3 of his captains.”
“I burned his warehouses.”
Roman continued.
“And when he finally disappeared into Eastern Europe, I took everything he left.”
Tessa put on the sweater.
“Why did you not kill him?”
“I tried.”
Roman’s eyes were empty.
“He survived.”
The private elevator opened 10 minutes later.
Carmine stood inside.
He was wearing a dark overcoat above gray sweatpants.
Tessa had never seen him dressed without a suit.
It made the emergency more serious than anything Roman had said.
“Boss.”
Carmine looked toward Tessa.
“Ma’am.”
“What happened?”
Roman asked.
Carmine pressed the lobby button.
“Nothing yet.”
“That is the problem.”
The elevator descended.
Carmine held out a tablet.
“Three hours ago, one of our customs contacts received a photograph.”
Roman examined it.
Tessa stepped closer.
The image displayed a middle-aged man leaving what appeared to be a private aviation terminal.
Silver hair.
Tall.
Long black overcoat.
A scar crossed the left side of his jaw.
He looked directly toward the camera.
Not accidentally.
Deliberately.
As if he knew exactly who would eventually see the photograph.
“Dulles Airport.”
Carmine said.
“Private arrival.”
“No official passenger manifest.”
Tessa stared at the man.
Viktor Saranov.
“He entered the country tonight?”
Roman asked.
“At 11:40.”
“Who met him?”
“No one.”
Carmine’s expression became troubled.
“He rented a vehicle under a legitimate identification.”
“He drove north.”
“We lost him outside Columbia.”
Roman handed back the tablet.
“Close Pier 41.”
“Already done.”
“Move all high-value cargo.”
“Being moved.”
“Family?”
Carmine hesitated.
Tessa noticed.
Roman did too.
“What?”
Roman’s voice sharpened.
“Your aunt.”
Carmine looked toward him.
“She is not answering.”
Roman went completely still.
Tessa had never heard of an aunt.
“Which residence?”
“The farm.”
“Security?”
“Two men.”
“No response from either.”
The elevator doors opened inside the private garage.
Three armored vehicles waited with engines running.
Roman moved first.
Tessa caught his arm.
“I am coming.”
“No.”
Roman did not turn.
“Roman.”
He faced her.
The expression inside his eyes could have stopped another person immediately.
Tessa did not release him.
“You brought me into the organization.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“This is personal.”
“So was the warehouse.”
Roman’s nostrils flared.
“He called you because he wanted me to hear fear inside your voice.”
His control finally cracked.
“You are not going anywhere near him.”
Tessa stepped closer.
“That means the call failed.”
Roman stared.
Tessa lowered her voice.
“He expected me to become frightened.”
“I became curious.”
She held his gaze.
“If Viktor Saranov returned after 10 years, he did not do it simply to kill an elderly woman on a farm.”
“He wants something.”
Roman remained silent.
Tessa continued.
“And if he contacted my telephone, I am already part of whatever that something is.”
Carmine looked away.
Smart man.
Roman’s anger became visible inside the muscles of his neck.
Finally, he opened the rear entrance of the 1st vehicle.
“Sit beside me.”
Tessa entered.
The convoy left the garage.
They traveled north beneath empty streets, three black vehicles moving through the sleeping city like shadows.
Roman made calls.
He repositioned men.
Closed facilities.
Activated contacts.
Tessa listened.
Ten years ago, Roman had reacted to Viktor Saranov by destroying everything around him.
Now he possessed more to lose.
That made him stronger.
It also made him vulnerable.
Forty minutes later, the city disappeared.
Dark farmland replaced concrete.
Roman had said nothing about his aunt.
Tessa waited.
Eventually, she asked.
“What is her name?”
“Lucia.”
Roman continued looking through the windshield.
“My father’s older sister.”
“She raised me before Salvatore took responsibility.”
“Why does she live alone?”
“Because she refuses to live near me.”
“Why?”
Roman looked toward Tessa.
“She thinks I became the thing that killed our family.”
The answer landed harder than Tessa expected.
The convoy turned onto a narrow private road.
Trees pressed close around them.
No house lights appeared ahead.
Carmine’s voice came through the vehicle radio.
“Gate open.”
Roman removed his pistol.
Tessa looked toward him.
“Stay inside.”
She almost argued.
Then she noticed his eyes.
This was not business.
She nodded.
The vehicles stopped near an old stone farmhouse.
Its front entrance stood open.
Two security men lay unconscious near the porch.
Carmine and four men moved first.
Roman followed.
Tessa remained inside the vehicle for exactly 42 seconds.
Then Roman shouted from inside the house.
Not in pain.
A name.
“Lucia!”
Tessa opened the door.
She entered.
The farmhouse smelled of old wood, coffee, and something burned.
Furniture had been overturned.
A framed photograph lay broken over the floor.
Roman stood inside the dining room.
His pistol hung loosely beside his thigh.
No one else moved.
At the center of the table stood a crystal glass.
Beside it rested a white envelope.
Lucia was not inside the house.
Roman approached the table.
Tessa came beside him.
The envelope contained one photograph.
It showed an older woman sitting inside a chair.
Alive.
Angry rather than frightened.
Lucia Valorie.
Behind her stood Viktor Saranov.
His hand rested politely over her shoulder.
Roman turned the photograph over.
Four words had been written across the back.
BRING ME THE SECRETARY.
Tessa read them.
Roman crushed the edge of the photograph inside his fist.
“No.”
His voice was barely human.
Carmine entered behind them.
Roman looked toward him.
“Find every Russian, Serbian, Ukrainian, and Canadian contact operating within 200 miles.”
His eyes became black.
“Close the ports.”
“Close the airports.”
“Close the highways if necessary.”
Carmine nodded.
Roman continued.
“No one touches Tessa.”
Tessa picked up the envelope.
Something remained inside.
A small black memory drive.
She removed it.
Roman looked toward her.
“What is that?”
“I do not know.”
Tessa turned toward the nearby laptop over Lucia’s desk.
Roman reached for her arm.
“Do not.”
“If Saranov wanted us dead, he had the opportunity to place an explosive inside this house.”
Tessa’s voice remained cold.
“He did not.”
She inserted the drive.
A single video file appeared.
Roman stood behind her.
Tessa opened it.
Viktor appeared over the screen.
He sat inside an elegant room.
Lucia remained visible behind him, tied to a chair.
Viktor smiled.
“Roman.”
He spoke directly toward the camera.
“It has been a very long time.”
Roman did not blink.
Viktor continued.
“I do not want your ports.”
“I do not want your money.”
“I do not even particularly want revenge.”
His eyes shifted toward the lens.
“What I want is the woman who discovered Gary Donovan.”
Tessa felt Roman’s hand settle over her shoulder.
Possessive.
Protective.
Viktor smiled.
“Because, my dear Roman, your clever secretary has found only the first page of an account that began long before she entered your office.”
He leaned forward.
“And if Tessa Quinn is as intelligent as I have been told, she will soon discover that the person stealing from you was never Gary Donovan.”
The video ended.
Tessa stared at the black screen.
Roman’s hand tightened.
Carmine spoke first.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Tessa slowly removed the drive.
“It means Donovan was a symptom.”
She looked toward Roman.
“Not the disease.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
May you like
Tessa placed the device inside her pocket.
“And Viktor Saranov believes I am the only person capable of finding it.”
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