Private Wars by Greg Rucka Read Free Book Online Page B

perhaps stepped over some unknown line. If it had been McColl he was speaking to, he’d never say these things, but the Ambassador had always encouraged him to speak his mind. Even so, Riess worried that he’d gone too far.
    “You’re going to have those ex-KGB bastards crawling all over you, you know that?” Garret asked, finally. “Even if Dina didn’t give you up, Ruslan’s contact with you today guarantees it.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    The Ambassador gave him a small, paternal smile, then turned to the coffeemaker and proceeded to fill two cups. He handed Riess one, then asked, “You ever meet Ruslan? Before today, I mean?”
    “At the Independence Day party—theirs, not ours. That’s it.”
    “According to Tower, Malikov wants control of the country to stay in the family when he kicks it. Hasn’t chosen one kid over the other, as far as the CIA can tell. God knows, if he doesn’t designate a clear successor before he kicks it, all hell will break loose. Might break loose anyway, even if he does. The DPMs would eat their own young if they thought it would put them in charge.”
    “Sevara’s married to Ganiev—”
    “Yeah, the Deputy Prime Minister of the Interior, though it’s an open secret that she’s the one running the Ministry.”
    “That’s not all she’s doing,” Riess said. “There’ve been reports of her selling girls into the UAE, that she’s formed and armed her own militia. We know she’s got her own secret police force, her own courts. And we’re not even discussing her legitimate—and I use the word in the loosest possible sense—business interests, from her wireless communications company to owning something like three spas and a movie studio.”
    “Whereas Ruslan has a two-year-old son and has just become a widower.”
    “Ruslan’s the Chairman of the Constitutional Court, which means he’s responsible for writing the laws that his father wants written. He’s got some people, but it’s nothing like what Sevara’s assembled. That’s never been how he does business.”
    Garret drained his cup and again looked to the clock, this one hung on the wall beside the refrigerator. He frowned, and Riess knew from the expression on his face that the Ambassador was doing time-zone math, most likely calculating the hour in Washington.
    “Have to start with my calls.”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “Nothing for the time being.”
    Riess tried to keep the confusion off his face. “Sir?”
    “Nothing. Don’t try to contact Ruslan, don’t go near him. Just do your job, keep McColl happy. He already thinks you spend too much time with me as it is.”
    “Ruslan believes his life is in danger, sir. If we don’t do something—”
    “Easy, Charles. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to do anything, I just told you to steer clear for the time being.” Garret looked at the clock again, frowning. “What’s London, five hours behind us?”
    “Uh . . . five or six, I think.”
    “He won’t be in yet,” Garret said, more to himself than to Riess, then sighed. “I’ve had enough, Chuck. Thirty years in high diplomacy and not enough time actually spent keeping the people on the ground from being tortured to death. Realpolitik be damned, I’ve had enough. Malikov goes. One way or another, he goes. We’re staging a coup, Chuck. A nice, quiet coup, and when it’s over the White House gets to say we did the right thing, even if they’d rather we hadn’t done it at all.”
    “If it works,” Riess murmured.
    “If it works.”
    They left it at that, neither of them wishing to say what would happen if it didn’t.

CHAPTER 4
    London—Spice Quay,
Residence of Poole, Nicholas
    12 February, 1748 Hours GMT
    “Thought you were bringing Tamsin,” Nicky Poole said after he’d let Chace inside and taken her coat. “Didn’t leave her on the train, did you?”
    Chace smacked her forehead with her palm, just hard enough to make an audible impact.
    “Oh, damn,” she said. “I