“What kind of questions?”
“Whether she has access to your business operations. Whether she might have information that could be used against your organization.” Pavel puts his phone away. “They think she knows more than she’s telling you.”
“She doesn’t know anything about my business.”
“Are you sure? Their intelligence suggests she’s been asking very informed questions as of late.”
My blood runs cold, and I suck in a breath. “What do you recommend?”
“Relocation. This building is compromised. There are too many surveillance points and too much hostile attention. You need somewhere more isolated and easier to secure.”
“Such as?”
“Rural location, single-access road with natural barriers to observation. Somewhere you can control the environment.”
“I have an estate outside the city. Comprehensive security, remote location.”
“Perfect. Moving there would eliminate most current vulnerabilities while providing time to develop long-term security protocols.”
“And you would handle the transition?”
“I would coordinate all aspects of the relocation and remain on-site to ensure ongoing security.”
I squint at him. “Why would you need to be on-site?”
“Your wife needs professional protection until these threats are neutralized.”
There it is again, that eager insistence on staying close to Katya. Either Pavel is the most dedicated security consultant I’ve met, or he has other motivations for wanting access to her.
“I’ll consider your recommendations.”
“Time is a factor, Mr. Kozlov. The longer you remain in a compromised location, the more intelligence hostile families can gather about your operations.”
“Understood. I’ll arrange for the estate and let you know if you’ll be joining us.”
Pavel nods and gathers his materials. “Excellent. In the meantime, I can begin advance security preparations.”
“I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move.”
“Of course. But I strongly recommend making that decision quickly. The Borisenkos won’t wait to make their next move.”
I sit in my office after Pavel leaves, staring at the photographs while my mind races. Everything he said about rival family surveillance makes sense, but his knowledge of their operations seems unusually detailed for a former military contractor.
More troubling is his obvious interest in staying close to Katya.
My phone goes off with a text from Alexei.
Need to talk. Downstairs.
I pocket the phone and head downstairs to find him pacing in the parking garage.
“We have a problem,” he declares.
“Which problem?”
“You’re spending more money on elaborate security theater for one woman than we spend on actual business operations.”
“Security isn’t theater when rival families are trying to kill your wife.”
