“This is the reality, Liya.” I sit up straight and fix my tie. “This is the route I’m going to take. It’s the only way.”
She doesn’t argue. She doesn’t tease me or come up with a clever retort.
I study her demure expression.What happened to my clever little fox?
She takes a shaky breath and then sighs. “Fine. You figure it out.”
Something’s not right. She didn’t even bother suggesting anything else to me. No arguments, no further attempts to walk me back from my idea.Either this must really be the end, or something else is afoot.
“I’ll go speak to Stepan.”
She stands and heads for the foyer. I expect her to pause in the doorway. After all, what would Liya be without her commitment to making me see things differently?
I drift past Stepan to get to the office. “Idi so mnoi.” Come with me.
The rustle of the newspaper and the clap of his footsteps echo behind me. I float into my office and settle behind my desk, waiting patiently for Stepan to sit down after closing the door.
I push a paper pad in front of him. “Write down the names of the NYPD officers you remember from the penthouse files.”
He pulls a pen from inside his blazer, clicks it as he leans over his side of the desk, and starts scribbling.
I rub my chest, trying to chase away the canyon that’s grown there. But it doesn’t work.
“I think we should strike quickly at the wedding,” I say as I watch him write. “We can’t give Cardona time to react.”
“How?”
“Send someone in as a photographer, grab Zoya during photos, and shoot everyone else.”
He clicks the pen and sets it back into his pocket while sliding the paper pad toward me. “Who’s doing the snatching?”
“You or me.”
“If Cardona is inviting as many cops as I’m writing down, or even half…” Stepan lets out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of firepower. No way in hell they’re coming empty-handed. Not after what we did to them.”
“I know.” I stare at the names on the page. “That’s why we go as photographers. Before all the guests start showing up in force. It won’t be strange for her to be pulled away from Cardona for photographs with the bridesmaids.”
“He won’t want her away from him for a second. This won’t be a regular wedding, Pavel Sergeyevich.”
“I know. But he will.”
“How can you be so sure?”
I meet his inquisitive gaze. He’s poking holes in my plan. It’s what he’s always done.
I just wish it was Liya doing it. “I can’t say for sure.”
“Let’s say you do get her. Then what?”
“You still remember how to make bombs, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Plant them near exits,” I suggest. “Under cars. Anywhere that causes the most amount of boom.”
“And the guests?”
I shrug. “What about them?”