Page 36 of Bishop's Flight
“We need to find out where Gary Preston lives,” Carwyn said. “I’ll call Lee.”
The phone rang and Lee picked up. “I’m here. What do you need?”
“Gary Preston.”
“Uh…?”
“Gary Preston is the name of the man Alina was trying to seduce at the car show. Summit Mountain Development. Can you see what information there is about him online?”
“You’ve given me more than enough. What do you want?”
“Address, financials. Any ties to Russia in particular. Clients maybe. Oleg owns a house here, why not Zasha?”
“Address shouldn’t take long.” Lee was already tapping keys. “Brigid came in and went out again. She looked stormy.”
Uh-oh.“Thanks, Lee.”
“No problem. I’ll text you when I get an address. Should be only a few minutes.”
He hung up the phone and called his wife. “Hello, my darling wife, this is your husband.”
“Carwyn.” She let out a sigh. “Alina Oorzhak is dead.”
Damn. Not that it was a total surprise, but it was still a blow. “The meeting with the Russian?”
“He ordered it. She’d been drugging one of their guards and it sounded like it wasn’t the first time. That one is ruthless when it comes to Zasha.”
“No love lost?”
“Oleg doesn’t want a hint of Zasha’s volatility rubbing off on his operation, that’s my read.” She took a breath. “Where are you?”
“At the Pink Daiquiri. The drinks are amazing!”
He could hear her smile through the phone. “Are they? Just the drinks then?”
“We spoke to Savannah, and she gave us a name. Lovely girl. She’d like to study archaeology.”
“Fascinating.” It sounded like Brigid was in the middle of something. “What’s the name?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m maybe meeting Mika Arakas for a drink.”
“Mika Arakas? The most lethal Estonian vampire in history?”
“Is that a difficult title for Estonian vampires to achieve though? I always thought of Estonians as being fairly chilled. Great musicians. Not particularly bloody.”
“Mika Arakas is an assassin, Brigid.”
“And I’m a fire vampire, mo ghrá. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you going behind Oleg’s back?”
“Not… exactly.”
“Brigid.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “What are you doing?”
“Three nights, Carwyn.”
