Glidepath

Начало книги

“Have you met Mr. Morozov before?”

“No. But I know the type,” Sergei said, sweat on his brow, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight shining off the Mediterranean.

Sergei was a midlevel manager in one of the most powerful Russian mafia organizations on the planet. Born in Moscow, he had come to France a decade earlier to run his family’s business dealings there.

Mikhail and Sergei sat on a small porch overlooking the marina, ten floors up. Below, tourists lined up for ferry rides and deep-sea fishing trips. Seagulls glided in the air, searching for discarded food.

“When you speak with him, make sure you are respectful and to the point. Mr. Morozov does not normally meet with men like you.”

Sergei waved his hand dismissively. “Maybe I don’t normally meet with men like him.”

Mikhail took a final drag from his cigarette and then pressed it into the glass ashtray on the porch table. If that’s how this arrogant little prick wants to play it, fine.

Читать дальше →