Page 31 of Prior Claim
His father glanced at Sevastyan’s mother, confused. “I was.”
“MC7 has some questions for your father, Sevastyan,” Raska said, falling for Sevastyan’s gambit. “We think he might have been a bad boy. Or at least an uncommitted one.”
“For the hundredth time, Raska,” Anton snapped. “I told you my mission was a long-term one. I told you I was embedded in the wrong program. The US government moved the contract to Stanford. But you and management wouldn’t let me follow.”
“You just wanted to move for your pretty, precious American wife.”
“A wife you picked for me. Mikhail’s own damned daughter. How much more in pocket could I be? Jealous isn’t a good look, Ras. I sent in the evidence. If you wanted me to have eyes on that project, you needed a new agent or you needed to let me move. I had the credentials. I had the recommendations. You all left me in that dead-end posting, teaching freshmen the damned periodic table.”
Raska glared at Anton. “Maybe. Maybe not. Let’s check.”
Steel pressed against the side of Sevastyan’s head. He stopped breathing. He didn’t need to try to turn his head to know what Raska was doing. It was written across his father’s face. Wide eyes, half-parted mouth.
His mother was holding a gun to Sevastyan’s head.
“What’s blowing our son’s brains out going to prove?” Anton roared, jerking against the steel holding him to the table.
Raska pushed the gun so hard against Sevastyan’s head that he had to give way, his head tilting. “Did you sell us out to the Americans?”
Anton screamed in frustration. His fists tightened and his arms strained against the cuffs. “Raska, again. Check the damn records. Get Vitchi in here. Going double agent wasn’t my idea, it was his. I passed on exactly what this office ordered me to pass on. Drivel. Codswallop. Noise. Agents who had already been moved. I wasn’t in a position to know much and they knew it.”
“Vitchi is gone.”
Anton’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something to hold on to. “Then whoever took his place.”
“Let me rephrase. MC7 no longer answers to the government. The program was closed.”
Anton’s whole body froze.“Then why are we here? Is this decommissioning? ”
“We’re here because of me.” Raska preened. “Someone else made an offer.” She nodded toward the one man Sevastyan had picked as being her equal or more. He looked vaguely Baltic in ancestry but Sevastyan could have been wrong. The man had one of those faces that could come from a thousand places.
Anton looked between Raska and the heretofore other power figure in the room. “Who made an offer?”
“The Merchari. Solutions for hire. If you need it, they can get it for you. If you want something gone, it will be gone.”
Anton closed his eyes and breathed slowly, visibly collecting himself. “We swore an oath to Russia. I swore an oath to Russia.”
Raska leaned forward on the table. “It’s not like the government is losing in this deal. And that loyalty of yours is still in question.”
Raska tapped her gun against the side of Sevastyan’s head.
Ow.
Anton glared. “Raska. You know I’m loyal to Russia. You know what I’ve done for our country, what I gave up. What I’ve been giving up. How could you . . .”
His father was going to talk himself into getting both of them killed. Raska had never cared about patriotism, unless it was getting her something. Enough of this.
“Shut up, Dad.” Sevastyan knocked Raska’s gun away from his head and stood. He turned on his mother, still pushing the gun away. “You can shoot me from two feet away as well as right next to me. Good grief, woman, I’ve been on planes and in cars for twenty-four hours.” Sevastyan stretched and then crossed his arms. “First time we’re all in the same room in sixteen years and this is what you two do?”
Raska glared at Sevastyan but the gun stayed low and to the side, not pointed at anyone in particular. The Merchari representative moved across the room out of direct range.
Sevastyan tilted his head to the side and snorted through his nose. “Really, Mama? You think Da isn’t loyal? Or maybe you’re just scared he won’t be loyal to the Merchari? It’s not like you’ve given him a chance. Cut the bullshit.”
Sevastyan turned to Anton. “MC7 has been privatized. Mama merged it with private contractors. They’re wrapping up loose ends, ending missions that aren’t focused on the new objectives. There are still . . . missions.” Sevastyan rolled his eyes toward Raska and made a waffling motion with his hand. “It’s just not government. But it’s also not always not. It’s . . . private.”
Anton swallowed, still looking between Sevastyan and Raska. “Private?”
“We solve problems for people with the money to have them solved, sometimes for Russia, or at least Russians. Sometimes for friends. Of Russia.” Raska put her gun away.
