Free the Romanov Prophecy (2004) by Steve Berry Page B

spillover effect on our investments.”
    He was ready with an answer. “We have no idea at this point how much authority the new tsar will have. As yet, we don’t know whether the tsar will be a figurehead or the ruler of all Russia.”
    “Get real, Lord,” one of the men said. “These idiots aren’t going to turn complete political power over to a single man.”
    “The consensus is that’s exactly what they will do.”
    “This can’t be happening,” another said.
    “It may not be all that bad,” Lord quickly said. “Russia is broke. It needs foreign investment. You might find an autocrat easier to deal with than the
mafiya.
”
    A few muttered their assent, but one man asked, “And that problem is going to go away?”
    “We can only hope.”
    “What do you think, Taylor?” another man asked.
    Hayes stood from his place at a back table and stepped to the front of the room. “I think what Miles told you is absolutely correct. We are about to witness the restoration of the Tsar of All Russia. The recreation of an absolute monarchy. Pretty amazing, if you ask me.”
    “Pretty damn scary,” one of the men said.
    Hayes smiled. “Don’t worry. You’re paying us big bucks to look after your interests. The commission has opened for business. We’ll be there doing what you hired us to do. All you have to do is trust us.”

TEN
    2:30 PM
    Hayes entered the tiny conference room on the seventh floor. The office building rose in central Moscow, a strikingly modern rectangle with a gray-tinted glass facade. He always appreciated the choice of meeting locations. His benefactors seemed to revel in luxury.
    Stalin sat at the coffin-shaped conference table.
    Dmitry Yakovlev was the
mafiya
’s representative in the Secret Chancellory. In his midforties, with a shock of corn-colored hair spilling over a tanned brow, the man radiated charm and control. For once, the three hundred or so gangs that occupied western Russia had all agreed on a single envoy to represent their mutual interests. Too much was at stake to argue over protocol. The criminal element apparently understood survival, and well knew what an absolute monarch with the full support of the people could do for them. Or
to
them.
    In many ways, Hayes realized, Stalin was the center of everything. Gang influence reached deep into the government, business, and the military. Russians even had a name for it:
Vori v Zakone
—Thieves in Law—a description Hayes liked. But their threat of violence was real since a contract killing was a far cheaper and faster way to settle a dispute than the courts.
    “How was the opening session?” Stalin asked in perfect English.
    “The commissioners organized themselves, as expected. They’ll get down to business tomorrow. The timetable is six days to a first vote.”
    The Russian seemed impressed. “Less than a week was what you predicted.”
    “I told you I know what I’m doing. Was the transfer made?”
    There was a hesitation that signaled irritation. “I am unaccustomed to such directness.”
    What was not said, but nonetheless clear, was that he was unaccustomed to such directness
from a foreigner.
Hayes decided to employ tact, though he, too, was irritated. “No disrespect intended. It’s only that the payments have not been made, as agreed, and I’m accustomed to arrangements being honored.”
    On the table was a sheet of paper. Stalin slid it across to him. “That’s the new Swiss account in Zurich you requested. Same bank as before. Five million, U.S., went in this morning. That’s all the payments due to date.”
    Hayes was pleased. For a decade he’d represented the
mafiya
in their American diversifications. Millions of dollars had been laundered through North American financial institutions, most funneled into legitimate businesses seeking capital, more used to purchase stocks, securities, gold, and art. Pridgen & Woodworth had earned millions in legal fees through his representation, all made thanks to