Read Online Devil With a Gun by M. C. Grant - Free Book Online Page B

you. A Cold War infidelity, perhaps?”
    I don’t know how to answer, so I keep silent.
    â€œHave you ever tried real caviar?” he asks.
    â€œI’m not sure, but I do enjoy Greek taramosalata, which is—”
    â€œBah,” he snarls. “Peasant food. That is cod roe, not caviar.” He loads a small cracker with a spoonful of black fish eggs, places it on a china plate and slides it over to me. “Place the caviar on your tongue and savor it before swallowing.”
    I do as he says. The sturgeon roe is light and salty on my tongue, and as it warms within my mouth, each egg pops open like a champagne bubble. The taste is unusual and exquisite and thanks to the expansion of my palate at the hands of Dmitri, delicious. I scoop the remainder off the cracker with my tongue.
    â€œThis is amazing,” I say.
    â€œ Pryekrasno ! I’m pleased.”
    We eat and drink a bit more until I feel comfortable enough to say, “I want to ask you some questions about a missing person.”
    Lebed dabs his mouth with a cloth napkin and takes another sip of tea.
    â€œA Russian?” he asks.
    â€œNo, but I think he worked for you.”
    â€œI am not missing anyone.”
    â€œThis was twenty years ago.”
    â€œA lifetime.”
    â€œMaybe, but I have a feeling you possess a very good memory.”
    â€œFlattery,” he says. “Only a woman can wield such a simple tool.”
    â€œI doubt that,” I say with a smile, struggling to make it appear genuine. “I’m sure you charm the birds out of the trees.”
    â€œA man’s skill. More complex.”
    I feel I’ve wandered onto thin ice, but nothing ventured … “His name is Joseph Brown.”
    Lebed glances over his left shoulder at the two redheaded twins, who haven’t stopped pointing and clicking on their computers since I entered.
    â€œThat name is not familiar to me.”
    â€œTwenty years ago, you went to Joe Brown’s apartment in the middle of the night and recruited him for a job. His family hasn’t seen him since.”
    A shadow crosses Lebed’s face to reveal the thug beneath the gentleman’s veneer. “How do you come upon this information?”
    â€œDoes it matter? I’m not interested in whatever the job was. I only want to find out what happened to Mr. Brown.”
    â€œWhy do you care?”
    â€œSo you do remember him?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen why do you care why I care?”
    Lebed flashes his teeth, but he’s not smiling. “Because you are in my restaurant and I asked you a direct question.”
    â€œHis family wants answers,” I say. “So do I.”
    â€œThe wife is dead and the daughter is a whore,” he snaps angrily. “The past is the past.”
    I shudder and feel my own anger rise. “I’ll take that as an admission then. So what happened to Joe?”
    Lebed pushes away from the table and stands up. I notice his hands are clenching into fists and releasing, clenching and releasing. I’m suddenly, frighteningly aware that the only person who knows where I am at this moment is a small-time bookie with no reason to care what happens to me.
    Lebed’s voice becomes a hiss. “Do you know why Russian women get so fat?” Before I can answer, he continues. “Because they need to be able to absorb the blows of their husbands’ fists. My mother was very fat, but my wife is fatter still. You are skinny; you would not survive.”
    I take this as my cue to stand up, too, and control the quiver in my voice. “I might surprise you.”
    â€œYou would not.”
    â€œSo I take it you’re not going to help me find Joe Brown?”
    â€œI told you before, I do not know who that is.”
    I swallow and look around the room. Neither of the guards has moved.
    â€œThanks for the caviar,” I say.
    Nobody attempts to stop me as I push through the door to the