Read Online Return (Matt Turner Series Book 3) by Michael Siemsen - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Siemsen
Tags: Paranormal Suspense, sci fi adventure, The Opal, Psychic Mystery, The Dig, Matt Turner Series, archaeology thriller
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exchanged a few words several years ago, just days before everything went to hell in Cuba.
“I figured as much.” Matt hadn’t yet worked out how he’d tweak his plans around this Ostrovsky involvement. For now, he’d focus on legitimate concerns and feigned curiosity. “Now, aside from the shenanigans going down in your country right now, tell me why in a million years I’d agree to go anywhere near Mr. Ostrovsky or his property. How could I possibly trust him?”
“Well, I’m not sure what this shinan word-”
“Shenanigans. Military movements. Political upheaval. Invasion-”
“Yes, I inferred this is what you meant, and I can assure you there’s no cause for concern in the area here. As in business, Mr. Ostrovsky always aligns himself with the appropriate team. Travel would be coordinated outside the traditional systems, and absolutely safe. As for trust … Mr. Ostrovsky, would you care to answer this one?”
Vitaliy Ostrovsky’s thick Ukrainian accent joined the conversation—jubilant, and with a bit less of the husky smoker’s croak Matt recalled. “Of course! If there is one thing I appreciate, it is distrust. In business, if person not questions me, I think this man is weak. I maybe look for how I make terms more favorable for me, okay? So yes, this is good. Matthew, first let me start by saying this thing with you and Gray: not personal, and not me.”
Thing with you and Gray? Could Ostrovsky know what I’m doing? No, no way. He’s talking about Cuba.
Ostrovsky went on, “This was favor for business . Territory one of my company needed in Africa. He’s nobody then, but connected. First saying give me this, give me that. I tell him ‘Fuck you, I go elsewhere with my money.’ Some people die, but not relevant.” The sound of ice in a glass, a deep gulp and breath. “What I was saying? Yes, a couple months later, he phones me, saying he knows you’re on way with this professor, tells me if I say ‘fuck off’ to professor, I get my land deal. Well, small part of deal. He breaks balls to this day for what I still need, but this is other story. Now you understand.”
Matt was quiet a moment, recalling again, through a burst of images, the eventual consequences of Ostrovsky’s rejection of Dr. Rheese: the disintegrated opal, the loss of Tuni, the deaths of numerous innocents, Matt’s father among them. “I’m not sure I do.”
“It wasn’t me! This is what I’m saying. You have no reason to distrust. We never ourselves met for business together, you and me. This is new. We are same, you and me. How do I tell this so he gets? Markus?”
“Yes,” Markus rejoined. “What Mr. Ostrovsky is trying to convey, Matthew, is that he’s asking for your forgiveness, and to put the past behind you both as it has no connection to the proposed meeting and arrangement. Further, Mr. Ostrovsky would like you to see him as an equal in this transaction, on level ground. There are, of course, certain concrete assurances he will provide to allay any remaining fears you may harbor. Now, if I may proceed.”
“Right,” Matt said, and sat down on the side of his bed. Neither could say anything to convince him that Ostrovsky was even marginally trustworthy, but The Gray was indeed the responsible party—the sole puller of strings leading to every tragedy—and would soon be held responsible. “Go ahead.”
Matt’s phone vibrated against his ear.
Markus said, “You should receive a photograph any moment.” Matt pulled the phone away and opened the image. Markus’s voice was small and tinny through the minute speaker. “Matthew? Are you there? Did you receive it?”
“I got it. Just a moment.”
Matt zoomed into the photo and rotated his phone sideways. He knew this artifact from another picture, but he’d never seen this side of it.
On a black surface, beside a coin placed for scale, sat the craggy length of carved granite, like a gamepiece from Jenga, but with three long sides instead
“I figured as much.” Matt hadn’t yet worked out how he’d tweak his plans around this Ostrovsky involvement. For now, he’d focus on legitimate concerns and feigned curiosity. “Now, aside from the shenanigans going down in your country right now, tell me why in a million years I’d agree to go anywhere near Mr. Ostrovsky or his property. How could I possibly trust him?”
“Well, I’m not sure what this shinan word-”
“Shenanigans. Military movements. Political upheaval. Invasion-”
“Yes, I inferred this is what you meant, and I can assure you there’s no cause for concern in the area here. As in business, Mr. Ostrovsky always aligns himself with the appropriate team. Travel would be coordinated outside the traditional systems, and absolutely safe. As for trust … Mr. Ostrovsky, would you care to answer this one?”
Vitaliy Ostrovsky’s thick Ukrainian accent joined the conversation—jubilant, and with a bit less of the husky smoker’s croak Matt recalled. “Of course! If there is one thing I appreciate, it is distrust. In business, if person not questions me, I think this man is weak. I maybe look for how I make terms more favorable for me, okay? So yes, this is good. Matthew, first let me start by saying this thing with you and Gray: not personal, and not me.”
Thing with you and Gray? Could Ostrovsky know what I’m doing? No, no way. He’s talking about Cuba.
Ostrovsky went on, “This was favor for business . Territory one of my company needed in Africa. He’s nobody then, but connected. First saying give me this, give me that. I tell him ‘Fuck you, I go elsewhere with my money.’ Some people die, but not relevant.” The sound of ice in a glass, a deep gulp and breath. “What I was saying? Yes, a couple months later, he phones me, saying he knows you’re on way with this professor, tells me if I say ‘fuck off’ to professor, I get my land deal. Well, small part of deal. He breaks balls to this day for what I still need, but this is other story. Now you understand.”
Matt was quiet a moment, recalling again, through a burst of images, the eventual consequences of Ostrovsky’s rejection of Dr. Rheese: the disintegrated opal, the loss of Tuni, the deaths of numerous innocents, Matt’s father among them. “I’m not sure I do.”
“It wasn’t me! This is what I’m saying. You have no reason to distrust. We never ourselves met for business together, you and me. This is new. We are same, you and me. How do I tell this so he gets? Markus?”
“Yes,” Markus rejoined. “What Mr. Ostrovsky is trying to convey, Matthew, is that he’s asking for your forgiveness, and to put the past behind you both as it has no connection to the proposed meeting and arrangement. Further, Mr. Ostrovsky would like you to see him as an equal in this transaction, on level ground. There are, of course, certain concrete assurances he will provide to allay any remaining fears you may harbor. Now, if I may proceed.”
“Right,” Matt said, and sat down on the side of his bed. Neither could say anything to convince him that Ostrovsky was even marginally trustworthy, but The Gray was indeed the responsible party—the sole puller of strings leading to every tragedy—and would soon be held responsible. “Go ahead.”
Matt’s phone vibrated against his ear.
Markus said, “You should receive a photograph any moment.” Matt pulled the phone away and opened the image. Markus’s voice was small and tinny through the minute speaker. “Matthew? Are you there? Did you receive it?”
“I got it. Just a moment.”
Matt zoomed into the photo and rotated his phone sideways. He knew this artifact from another picture, but he’d never seen this side of it.
On a black surface, beside a coin placed for scale, sat the craggy length of carved granite, like a gamepiece from Jenga, but with three long sides instead
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