Page 9 of France Face-Off
One government official who had passed that order along, a man her parents had worked closely with for many years, someone they had trusted as a friend, who’d been to their house and shared meals with them, had been their Russian contact when they’d first come to Russia.
Alex might have spared him when she had gone to question his role in her parents’ death, but things hadn’t worked out that way. He had been surprised to see her and apparently scared, afraid that she knew too much and could expose him to the government officials with whom he worked closely. More than that, he seemed afraid someone would find out she hadn’t died in the fire that had consumed her home and parents.
When he’d attacked her, she’d had no other choice. The man she’d considered a family friend had become just another puppet to the one who’d given the order to kill her parents.
Thankfully, they had met at a quiet place by a river. She suspected that he had chosen that location for easy disposal of her body. It had served that purpose, but she had disposed of his body in the river instead.
Anatoly Petrov had been his boss. Alex knew from all her research that Petrov reported to the President of Russia. He also had connections to the Russian mafia that dealt in a number of illegal activities, including human trafficking and drug trafficking. Alex suspected the mafia was also involved in siphoning off natural gas, selling it to other sources in Russia and to other countries.
Petrov wasn’t the one calling the shots. Though Alex had been tempted, she wouldn’t have killed him until he’d given her the name of his connection to the mafia and the one ultimately responsible for putting the hit out on her parents.
The team that had performed the hit had not been Russian military or Russian police. They had been a highly trained mercenary team, their payment source a Swiss bank account.
Alex had established several contacts on the Dark Web, who were still working on who owned the Swiss bank account. She didn’t hold out much hope that it would lead to one individual. Those accounts were carefully buried in a number of organizations that appeared legit on the surface. In the meantime, she had to follow her own leads, thus her interest in Petrov and, potentially, Sergei Baranovsky, another cog in the government wheel and possibly part of the Russian mafia.
“I noticed you with Natalya earlier,” Alex said as they neared the reception hall. “Won’t she miss you and be a little concerned when you show up with another woman on your arm?”
“So, you were watching me?” he said with a smile.
Irritation burned in her chest. “It’s part of my job as a translator to read body language and to study the people around me.”
He cocked an eyebrow and stared down at her. “What did my body language say?”
“You were only there to be polite to the older woman, and you were also studying the people around you.”
“Natalya might be older than I am, but she’s still a beautiful and vital woman and in the same profession as you.”
Alex shot a glance in his direction. The way he’d emphasized the word profession made her blood boil. She had suspected Natalya did more than translate. She managed to be at every political rally, diplomatic reception, and government-sponsored event. Where there were government officials of the Russian country, she could always be counted on to be there in beautiful, expensive dresses and jewelry.
Most translators didn’t get paid enough to afford that kind of couture. Several options came to mind regarding how she’d attained the wealth needed to wear that kind of jewelry and clothing. Natalya had received gifts of jewelry and enough money to keep her in the lifestyle to which she had become accustomed. She could have traded something other than her translation services for the items, or she had a source of income other than translation services.
“My services are limited to translation,” Alex stated firmly. She’d been to many of the same political rallies and government functions as Natalya over the past year, where she’d been building her own reputation as a translator. However, Alex had never traded her body for money or jewelry and had no intention of starting.
The self-defense lessons were for when she got into those situations where her clients or other people tried to take advantage of her. She then quickly reminded them that she was paid for her translation services, not for any other skills they assumed she possessed.
Daniel stopped short of the reception hall entrance and put his hand over hers on his elbow to keep her from withdrawing it. “What’s your story, Alexa?” he asked. “You speak fluent Russian, and yet, your English is purely American. Why are you really here?”
She smiled tightly up at him. “I am using my translation services to support myself. And you can call me Alex.”
“Alex, when you’re not in France, where do you live?”
“Wherever the work takes me,” she said. “London, Paris, Moscow, the United States.”
“You have no family, no children, no husband?”
Her smile faded into a tight line. “I have no family. It makes it easy for me to travel around the world. What about you?” She refocused attention on him, deflecting it from herself. “I take it you don’t speak Russian?”
“Guilty,” he said.
“Do you at least speak French, since you’re here in France?”
He shook his head. “I am relying strictly on my good looks, as you called it. The pay and accommodations are decent. I have no complaints.” He reached up and tugged at his tie. “Although I’m not a big fan of ties.”
She used that opportunity to slip her hand from the crook of his elbow. “And when your looks fade?” she asked.
“Then maybe I’ll go back to the States, buy a ranch, settle down and raise a few kids.”
She shook her head. “I can’t see that.”
