“OK, just make sure he’s for real,” Justin said with a grin.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Justin rested his wounded leg on the empty seat beside him. The bullet had sliced through his hamstring muscles but had missed the femoral artery and nerve. Still, he found it extremely painful to walk and was hobbling around on crutches. He glanced at Carrie, seating to his right. She smiled at him and opened her notebook. Across the square black table of the Maple Leaf Conference Room, George was fumbling with a keyboard, preparing their secure videoconference with the CIS headquarters in Ottawa.
“How are you feeling?” Carrie whispered at Justin.
“Great. You?”
“OK. You know we don’t have to do this today.”
“No, I want to. I want to get it over with.”
Justin took a sip of his hot coffee. “Hmmm, thanks for making this.”
“No problem.”
“Well, we’re almost ready,” George said.
Justin coughed to clear his throat, waiting for Johnson to appear on the plasma screen on the wall. His BlackBerry chirped in his white shirt pocket and Justin picked it up. He frowned as he saw the caller’s name displayed on the screen.
“George, I got to take this.”
“Ms. Johnson is waiting for us,” George replied with a headshake.
“I said I have to take this, in private,” Justin shouted.
George flinched at Justin’s outburst.
“Sorry, George, didn’t mean to yell at you. I just… This is an important call and I find it hard to walk.”
“You’ve got two minutes.” George left the conference room, closing the door behind him.
The BlackBerry rang one more time before Justin answered it.
“Hello, Mr. Romanov, how are you?” Justin pressed the loudspeaker button and placed his BlackBerry on the desk.
“Fine, I’m doing really fine. But I hear you’re not doing so well.”
“You’ve heard it right.”
Justin sighed before continuing, “I meant to call you earlier, but I had a few things to do. Hospitals to visit and such. With regard to your Bugatti Veyron, I’m afraid I owe you an apology.”
“I’m listening.”
“I got into an accident while in the Veyron. Unfortunately, the beauty is wrecked.”
Justin hated the ensuing tense silence, which lasted for several long seconds.
“Is that it?” Romanov asked in a flat voice.
“Eh, yes. I’m very, very sorry about this and I will—”
“Don’t worry too much about it. It was just a car. I’m glad you are doing well, my friend.”
“Pardon?” Justin said, glancing at Carrie. Her face was filled with great wonder, just like his. Romanov was not concerned about the supercar reduced to a heap of scrap and was calling Justin ‘my friend.’
“I didn’t like that car very much.”
“Eh, why is that?”
“The ashtray was full.”
Justin and Carrie heard Romanov’s loud gurgle as he laughed at his own joke. There was a moment of silence, then they heard Romanov’s voice again, “Plus, I could have never gotten two million dollars for it, like I did from your old man Carter.” This time Romanov was dead serious.
Justin face froze at the mentioning of his father’s name. What has he done to me?
Carrie leaned over the phone. “What did you just say?”
“Hey, Carrie, nice to hear from you.”
“Can you repeat your last?”
“About Mr. Hall, Senior? Sure. He vouched for his son, in case something went wrong with my car.”
“You’re lying, you bastard.”
Romanov snorted. “I’m glad to see you haven’t changed a bit. You think rich people are just a bunch of pricks, corrupted by their money don’t you?”
“No, I don’t think that. People like you show me that.”
“Well, let me show you something else, Carrie. Money is not that bad. It can buy you things. Like possibilities. Without Mr. Hall’s guarantee, you would have not gotten my Bugatti. In turn, you would have not been able to execute your operation.”
“That doesn’t make you less of a slimeball.”
“I’m not finished, Carrie. Sometimes money can buy information. Like classified FSB files from the Soviet era. About foreign army colonels in covert ops in the dead of winter. Around 1988. Still with me?”
Carrie slammed her fist on the table. The BlackBerry bounced, flipping over. Justin reached and turned it over.
“Don’t you even dare to talk about my father, you—”
“Let me finish, Carrie. I have some information that may help you in your investigation. The personal one. I’ll send it tomorrow.”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
“Romanov, I will pay you back,” Justin said. His voice was weak, still recovering from the early shock.
“No, I will not accept double payment.”
Another ringtone sounded in the distance. Romanov began speaking in unintelligible Russian. A few seconds later, he said, “Justin and Carrie, I have to go, but get better soon, OK?”
Justin ended the call without saying a word.
“What is he up to?” Carrie asked.
“I have no clue.”
As if eavesdropping behind the door, George entered the room before Justin could even put his BlackBerry back in his pocket.
“Ms. Johnson is losing her patience,” George said, wiggling a cellphone in his hands. “We should start our conference call now.”
“I think you’ll have to take this alone, Carrie.” Justin struggled to stand up on his good foot.
Carrie helped him with his crutches. “Are you OK?”
“I will be, after I talk to him. It shouldn’t take long.”
“No rush. Take your time.”
Limping outside, Justin crashed into one of the seats of the small waiting lounge.
“I need some privacy,” he told the assistant behind her desk. “Take a coffee break or something. Those phones can wait.”
The young woman nodded and left the room in silence. Justin dialed his father’s direct office number. Carter answered the phone after its first ring.
“Tell me, why did you pay Romanov?” Justin barked on the phone.
“Justin, how are you?”
“I was fine until I heard you stuck your nose into my work. Again. Why do you keep doing that, eh? Why can’t you just stay away?”
Carter sighed. “Because I care about you, my son.”
“Stop caring about me. I’m a grown up man and I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. You could do that even when you were a child.”
“Well, it’s about time you learn to leave me alone. If I need your help, I’ll ask you.”
Another sigh, this time deeper and sadder. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to learn that or anything else.”
“Why? Why is that?” Justin asked gruffly.
“Justin… Last week I found out I have cancer. The prognosis is not good. A few months, a year at the most.”
It was time for Justin to let out a sigh. “No, no, this can’t be. You’re a strong man, a very strong man.”
“I used to be. Now, I’d like to ask you something. I’d like to see you one last time, before—”
“Of course, Dad. I’ll be home tomorrow.”
Justin had not called Carter “Dad” for over twenty-five years. He had not stepped foot inside Carter’s home in Toronto in nineteen years. He knew he was breaking every promise he had made himself all these years. But he also knew his dad needed him at this moment, and he was going to be there.
“Thank you, my son.”