“…is short. Tell Dimitri we are moving forward quickly. After the performance, I will return to oversee things myself,” Pavel Kozlov had said.
A familiar voice interrupted Turner’s work. “Excuse me?”
He didn’t look up until he realized it wasn’t his waitress’s voice. Their eyes locked as she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. She tilted her head to one side and squinted as she spoke.
“Tony, isn’t it?” she said, her voice betraying the questioning look she had feigned.
“That’s right.”
He felt the energy again. It was a strange combination of butterflies and excitement, but this time there was something else.
“I think you’re full of shit, Tony.”
He couldn’t help but smile. There was definitely something else at play, and anger would be his first guess.
“I should be pissed off at you.” She lowered her chin. “You know that, don’t you?”
Turner wasn’t in the mood to digest a plateful of drama. He took a sip of his coffee, stroked his five o’clock shadow and stayed engaged against his better judgment.
“Well, Victoria, I can assure you that wasn’t my intention.”
Her eyes softened. He could sense she was as uncomfortable as he was with the chemistry between them.
A smile followed and she said, “Thank you.”
He smiled wryly without responding, so she elaborated.
“You made one of my dreams come true today.” Victoria smiled when his expression showed even more confusion. “I just played Herkules,” she said in a playful tone.
He smiled and took another sip of coffee. “Well, he’s a lucky man.” Her green eyes were even more captivating as they reflected the morning sun.
“It’s a violin,” she said. “A Stradivarius.”
He laughed sarcastically. “Congratulations. I’m glad I was able to help you out with that.”
She showed him the palms of her hands. “No, I’m serious. I won’t bore you with the details, but trust me, it was amazing.”
Eden was clearly excited from the experience, and it felt good to see her happy.
“What piece did you play?” he asked.
“Ah, that’s not important,” she said dismissively.
Turner took it as a polite way to say it wouldn’t mean anything to him. “Try me,” he said with an appraising eye.
She smiled at the challenge. “Okay. It was a piece by Eugène Ysaÿe.”
Turner whistled. His mother loved classical music, and it was one of the few things left that could connect him to home. “The Belgian. Appropriate considering the instrument. You know that violin has an interesting history.”
Eden’s expression turned quizzical. She was obviously impressed that he was familiar with classical music.
“Oh yeah?” she said curiously.
“I believe it was stolen from a museum in Moscow.”
“Russia?” She pursed her lips. “That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The man who owns it. He’s Russian.”
“I see.” The connection made him uncomfortable. He shifted in his chair knowing it wasn’t a coincidence.
She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” she said. “I owe you this.” She pushed it across the table to him.
He opened it and pulled out its contents. “Tickets?”
“Yep. Pavel gave them to me.” She forced a smile and paused for a moment. “You can bring your girlfriend. I don’t know anyone else in town, and it would be a shame if they went to waste.” She shrugged and said, “I’ll be performing.”
Trent Turner could tell the stunning violinist was fishing for personal details. Heckler had called earlier and said he was sending someone to Chicago today, so this new development was convenient. It provided a safe place to meet, and he could keep tabs on Pavel Kozlov at the same time.
“Thank you,” he said. “We’ll try to make it.”
Sadness clouded her eyes at the news that he would bring a companion. He diffused the moment with a smile, stood up and left money for the bill.
“Until then?” she said, trying to smile.
He nodded and shot her a playful wink.
Chapter 84
“Jack said he’ll bring him back online. Chicago, yeah. There’s a performance at the Fine Arts Building later this evening. There will be a meeting there. Yes, send them straight to Chicago. We’ll need them there as soon as possible in case we need more feet on the ground. Okay, thanks.”
Addy Simpson leaned back in the chair at his desk, and felt a sense of relief after ending the call. A major source of the stress that had been occupying his mind was about to end. Trent Turner was coming back into the fold, and that development would help him relieve the other immediate stressors with the current operation. Trent had been in contact with his uncle Jack Turner, and while Simpson knew they would have a lot to discuss after the operation was over, he had no doubt that he could count on him.
He had just gotten off the phone with his second-in-command at The Island. His conversation with Dr. Charles Reed was brief. Simpson needed more resources on the current operation and had made the decision to bring someone new he’d been working with onto the team. He was an experienced individual who would need no training, and it was someone whom he knew his top operative would trust.
Simpson had been out of sorts since Matilde Soller had reached out to him. He still hadn’t come to terms with missing the communication that was sent to him while he and Jack Turner had slept. They had searched Lucky Stone Quarry first thing in the morning and hoped something would turn up once the evidence was processed. It was time to call his good friend and give him an update on the status.
“Addy,” President Vincent Cross answered the phone enthusiastically. “How are your people doing out there?”
“We’re making progress, but things are moving slower than we’d like.”
Cross couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t that always the case? You’ve always said the communists would try to make a comeback, I should know better than to doubt you. So is it as bad as you thought?”
“I think so,” he said. “We still don’t know much other than they have a lot of money behind them and it has something to do with the financial sector.”
“Christ. Any idea when it will happen?”
“No, not yet. The CEO at Nations Bank has been extremely helpful. We’ve confirmed one of its computers has the bot software installed, and it’s helped us make some headway.” He sighed and reluctantly said, “It’s going to take more time for The Shop to figure out what we’re dealing with and how they plan on carrying out the attack.”
“I spoke to Stapleton,” the president said, his annoyed tone expected. “He was worthless as usual.”
Simpson smiled. “Shocking,” he said sarcastically. “You’d better watch your back with him.”
“I expect some blowback, but I’m not worried about it. I had to try to do the right thing.”
“Yeah, well, it’s your nature,” Simpson said, somewhat frustrated by his friend’s willingness to give the snake a chance. “The Shop is poking around inside the Fed’s systems. At this point, we’re fairly certain they’re a target.”
“Have you been able to confirm the connection with Matilde’s girl?”
“Yes. It’s a bad situation. These are the sort of people that don’t mess around.”
“I’m sorry,” Cross said. He tried to put himself in Matilde Soller’s place. “Losing both of her children…” He realized it was the sort of pain one couldn’t relate to. “I can’t even begin to imagine.”