Scorpion Winter Read Online Free PDF Page B

and what looked like a genuine Rothko painting hung on an interior wall. They were cruising eastward along the French coast. Through the salon windows, Scorpion could see seaside villas and the villages in the mountains. The sun broke through the clouds and sparkled on the sea.
    The yacht’s tender had come into the harbor at Villefranche and picked Scorpion up on the stone quay just steps from the restaurant. When he boarded the ship, the two shaven-headed men from the Mercedes asked him in accented English for his gun. He handed them the Glock 9mm from the holster at the small of his back.
    Vadim Akhnetzov came into the salon with a rush of energy. He was a medium-sized man, trim, with blond hair cropped almost to the skull. He wore a striped Armani suit and under it a blue and red T-shirt from Arsenal Kyiv, a Ukrainian soccer team. An attractive blond woman in a Chanel suit followed him in.
    â€œMr. Collins—or are you going to throw that name away—what you are drinking?” Akhnetzov asked in serviceable English as he sat down opposite Scorpion.
    â€œBloody Mary with Belvedere,” Scorpion said. The blond woman tapped on her BlackBerry as if taking notes.
    â€œNot Russian?” meaning the vodka. “Would you like some Beluga caviar? Dimitri?” Akhnetzov said, glancing at the white-jacked bartender behind the mahogany bar, who began preparing dishes.
    Scorpion shook his head.
    â€œOf course, business first. Perhaps later. Evgeniya?” he said to the blond woman.
    â€œGoodbye, Meester Collyins,” she said in a thick accent, and left. She had a lovely body in the well-fitted skirt, and for a moment the two men watched her leave.
    The bartender brought Scorpion’s Bloody Mary and an iced bottle of Iverskaya water for Akhnetzov, who gestured, and both the bartender and one of the leather-jacketed men standing by the door left.
    â€œBetter?” Akhnetzov asked.
    â€œDo you mind?” Scorpion said, pulling an electronic sweep unit out of his pocket and showing it to Akhnetzov, who gestured that he could use it. Scorpion stood up and began walking around the salon, checking for eavesdropping bugs and hidden cameras.
    â€œMaybe we should both take off our shirts?” Akhnetzov said, starting to take his jacket off.
    â€œMaybe we should,” Scorpion said, unbuttoning his shirt as well, then gesturing it was okay.
    â€œWe are on our way to Monte Carlo,” Akhnetzov said. “Is the only local port big enough for the Milena. When we finish talking, you may make business there. Your rental car is being brought from Villefranche.”
    â€œYou’re assuming a hell of a lot. Such as that I’m interested in whatever it is that made you want to get me here,” Scorpion said, sitting down.
    â€œNo, not assuming. Talking,” Akhnetzov said, studying the man in front of him. There was something about him: his strange gray eyes and the scar over his eye, his stillness, as if he could erupt into action in an instant. Akhnetzov lived in a world with many powerful and dangerous men, and he knew when he was in the presence of one. Indeed, he himself was one.
    â€œOut of curiosity, why do you use the Collins identity, which I assume you will get rid of?”
    â€œEither I found you or I let you find me. The latter was simpler, faster. Who’d you bribe, the man at the car rental in Nice?”
    â€œSomething like that.” Akhnetzov smiled.
    â€œHow’d you find me? Who told you to leave a card for Collins in Porto Cervo?” Scorpion said casually, masking his tension. His identity and base in Sardinia was on the line.
    â€œWe had a list of some dozen Mediterranean ports. We left notes at all of them. We assume you have a boat and would pick up the note at one of them.”
    â€œWho told you how to contact me?”
    â€œFriends of friends. As you know, one cannot do business in our part of the world without