The Emperor's Revenge (Oregon Files 11)

She shook her head.

“Antonovich isn’t coming,” Golov said. “I asked you here.”

Munier grinned halfheartedly. “I appreciate you inviting me to the party. Is there something I can do for you?”

Golov chuckled and took a seat across from Munier, leaning his elbows on his knees. The Indian and the redheaded man stood behind him, stone-faced.

“A party . . . Right,” Golov said. “Yes, I invited you to a party, but it’s not the kind you think.”

Munier adjusted his seating position, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. “What do you mean?”

“Mine is more like a raiding party.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re going to help me rob your bank. Today.”

Munier blinked several times, trying to make sense of what he just heard. Then a smile tickled the corner of his mouth. “You’re joking, right? This is some kind of gag. Did Georges Petrie put you up to this?” Petrie, the vice president of the Credit Condamine, was known for his elaborate pranks.

“No joke, Munier,” Golov said, all traces of his smile gone. “Do we look like fun-loving people to you?”

Munier’s heart hammered against his sternum. “I suppose not.”

“You see, the biometric locks in your bank can only be opened by you.”

Petrie’s fingerprints and retinal signature could be used as well, but Munier didn’t correct him.

“And, of course,” Golov continued, “they’ll only work while you’re living and breathing. Chopped-off fingers and plucked eyeballs only work in the movies. We know the latest readers sense active blood flow.”

“Why should I help you?”

“I will kill you right now if you don’t.” To emphasize his point, his men drew pistols from their jackets and held them casually at their sides.

Munier tried to gulp, but he discovered that his mouth had dried up. “So, I help you and then you let me go free?”

“You’re not a stupid man, Munier. You’ve seen our faces. It couldn’t be helped because of what we’re planning. We can’t leave witnesses, so I think it’s clear you’re not going to make it out of this alive.”

“Then . . . Then what possible reason could I have to do what you say?”

Golov nodded at Ivana and she glided over with the tablet. She tapped several times and then turned the screen to Munier.

He gasped when he saw the image.

There were his wife and two daughters, playing on the beach, making sand castles.

“Show him,” Ivana said into her phone.

The image shifted so that Munier could see the pistol that the cameraman was holding.

Munier had the urge to scream a warning to his family through the screen, but Ivana took the tablet back before he could.

“You’re a monster,” Munier could barely utter to Golov. He looked at each of them. “All of you are monsters.”

“Believe me,” Golov said. “We didn’t want it to come to this. Still, I

’ve done worse.”

A desperate thought seized Munier. “Georges Petrie! You can take Petrie! He can get you in. Just don’t hurt my family.” His throat caught in a sob. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”