Edge of Honor

Начало книги

The archangel Michael loved heights.

Mikhail Vashin was sure of it as he stood at the big window on the top floor of his three-story penthouse apartment high above Moscow. Not that he was religious, far from it. But lately, he was feeling a special relationship with the celestial deity he was named after. Perhaps, it was because of the weather. The mild winter had aided in the construction of his new skyscraper complex looming on the skyline three kilometers away. Six more months, he told himself, finding consolation in the speed of construction.

And it was perfect weather for the funeral. The sky was bright and clear for early April and the temperature cold enough to keep the snow from turning to slush. But not too chilly for the orchestra, or the girls, to perform outside.

Mikhail Vashin looked to the south, still gazing at the Towers, as he went over the funeral arrangements in his mind, checking off each item in the complex scenario. The heavy bulletproof glass in the window distorted his short, chunky frame and made him look even heavier. His $4,000 Savile Row suit — Vashin detested the current Italian style popular with his contemporaries — draped perfectly over his barrel chest and thickening waistline. He rubbed his chin and sighed. His barber had given him a close shave two hours earlier but his five o’clock shadow was already showing.

Читать дальше →