Free The Romanov Legacy by Jenni Wiltz Page B

girl’s
apartment.”
    “Starinov!  Why do you suppose he’s the one following
you?”
    “Because the men I killed were Vympel.”
    “Jesus Christ, boy, are you sure?”   
    “I saw their insignia, Vadim.  There’s no doubt.” 
    Originally a KGB special ops squad, Vympel disbanded amid
the confusion of communism’s fall and Yeltsin’s messy assumption of
power.  In the late 1990s, the unit was resurrected by Maxim Starinov, a
protégé of Putin who was also an FSB director before becoming prime
minister.  Starinov returned the squad to its roots—a brutal spetsnaz unit specializing in foreign espionage.  The squad functioned as
Starinov’s personal army, with no government mandate or oversight.  During
the second Chechen war, Starinov sent Vympel men dressed as Chechen rebels to
kidnap and murder Red Cross workers.  When he ordered Vympel to end the
hostage situation at School Number One in Beslan, they fired thermobaric
rockets into a school full of frightened children without hesitation. 
    Nine months ago, the bureau’s hackers had intercepted an
email from Starinov to the heads of the GRU and the SVR, informing them that
the reconstituted Vympel unit would fall under his personal jurisdiction, not
theirs.  With government status, Starinov could funnel as much funding
into Vympel as he wanted.  His personal army would now be paid for by
Russian taxpayers and given unprecedented access to the country’s best weaponry
and technology.  It was a nightmare of epic proportions.
    “You know what I’m up against,” Constantine said.  “I
need your help.”
    “So it’s true,” Vadim said softly.  “How many of them
were there?”
    “I killed two.  I don’t know how many more he sent.”
    “They’ll come after you with everything they have.”
    “I know, but that’s not what scares me.  They’re
watching us from the inside, Vadim.  If they had their own intel, they’d
have gone for the right sister.”  Constantine thought about the brief he’d
been given—information about the Romanov execution and portions of the
Rumkowski file.  If he was right about the leak, Starinov knew everything
the bureau knew.  The man ran the FSB for years before becoming prime
minister; he could be in no doubt as to what it meant.  “That bastard is
using us to find the Tsar’s money, isn’t he?”
    “Yes,” Vadim sighed.  “And he’ll kill you when you find
it.”
    “So where does that leave us?”  
    Vadim took a gulp of vodka.  “Starinov obviously
believes the tsarist cache exists or he wouldn’t risk sending Vympel into the
United States.”
    “If we get it first, maybe we can strike a bargain.” 
    “How long do you think you can avoid the next Vympel death
squad?”
    “As long as I have to,” Constantine said, turning to look at
Natalie.  “But there’s something else.  It’s about the girl.” 
He told his boss about Natalie and her connection to the Berlin forger. 
“I don’t know if it’s true, but she believes it.  If her story checks
out…”
    “Jesus Christ, are you telling me this girl can just ask Nicholas and Alexandra where they hid their goddamned money?”  
    “No,” he said.  “It’s not like that.  Natalie says
her sister’s never even met Voloshin.  They’ve never heard of him or seen
his copy of the Romanov letters.”
    “And you believe her?”
    Constantine watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest,
and the curl of her hands next to her breast.  “Yes,” he answered.
    Constantine heard the sound of breaking glass as Vadim
chucked his bottle across the room.  “It was all a bluff?  Why in
God’s name would Voloshin do something so foolish?”
    “Because it worked.  A professor’s name was enough to
make us all believe him.  But listen, Vadim, if Voloshin’s never met the
real Elizabeth Brandon, he won’t know Natalie isn’t the expert.  Let me
take her to the meeting.”
    “With Vympel following you?”
    “I don’t