Chapter 7 - The Audit and the Assassin
The morning sun filtered through the high, arched windows of the executive suite on the second floor of the Petrov headquarters in downtown Chicago.
Maria stood beside the mahogany filing cabinets, wearing a crisp gray maid’s uniform, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. In her apron pocket sat a small, encrypted flash drive Alexei had given her with explicit instructions: plug it into Viktor Vance’s private terminal while he was down in the boardroom giving his falsified report on the boss's "failing health."
It was supposed to be simple.
Step one: enter the office. Step two: plug in the drive. Step three: download the ledger. Step four: get out before Viktor returns.
Nothing in the world of the Russian mob, however, was ever simple.
The heavy oak door to Viktor’s office clicked open.
Maria’s blood ran cold. She froze mid-stride, her hand hovering just inches from the sleek desktop computer.
"I left my portfolio on the desk, Janice," a sharp, clipped voice echoed from the doorway.
It wasn't Janice. It was Viktor Vance.
Taller and thinner than Alexei, with wire-rimmed glasses, slicked-back silver hair, and an impeccably tailored Italian suit, Viktor stepped into the office. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Maria standing beside his private terminal.
For a terrifying second, neither of them moved.
Viktor’s eyes swept over her uniform, his gaze narrowing into cold, suspicious slits. "What are you doing in here? The cleaning schedule for the executive suite isn't until Thursday."
Maria forced her breathing to remain even. She channeled every ounce of the fierce, unyielding composure she had used to stare down Alexei yesterday.
"I was told to check the air vents in the private offices, sir," Maria said smoothly, her voice betraying none of the panic tearing at her insides. She gestured casually toward the ceiling grill with her feather duster. "The filtration system on the second floor has been kicking up dust, and Mr. Petrov’s staff requested a priority sweep."
Viktor stared at her, his expression unreadable. He slowly walked toward his desk, his leather shoes clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.
"Mr. Petrov’s staff," Viktor repeated, tasting the words as if they were sour wine. He stopped three feet away from her, his cold eyes boring into her face. "Strange. I wasn't informed of any maintenance sweep today. Especially not by someone I don't recognize."
"I’m new, sir," Maria replied, holding her ground, keeping her hands steady by her sides. "Started two weeks ago. Downstairs detail."
Viktor didn't answer immediately. He reached out, his long, manicured fingers resting casually on the corner of his desk—less than six inches away from the USB port where the flash drive was plugged in.
If he glanced down, he would see the tiny blinking green light of the data transfer.
Maria’s hand twitched in her pocket. Her fingers wrapped around the heavy brass handle of her cleaning spray bottle, calculating the force required to swing it hard enough to crack his skull if he reached for the drive.
Clack.
The office phone on the desk rang shrilly, cutting through the heavy tension like a knife.
Viktor blinked, startled out of his inspection. He glanced at the blinking caller ID on the screen—BOARDROOM EXT 402.
"Damn it," Viktor muttered under his breath. He snatched up the receiver. "Vance here. What is it?"
"Mr. Vance, you need to get down to the boardroom immediately," a frantic voice crackled through the speaker. "It’s... it’s about the succession vote. The emergency proxies are moving faster than we anticipated."
Viktor’s face darkened with greedy anticipation. He slammed the phone down, forgetting about the maid entirely.
"Keep dusting," Viktor snapped over his shoulder as he turned and practically sprinted toward the double doors, slamming them shut behind him.
Maria let out a long, shuddering gasp that felt like it emptied her entire lungs. Her knees felt like water. She quickly leaned over the terminal, yanked the flash drive out of the USB port, and shoved it deep into her apron pocket.
May you like
She had the evidence.
Now she just needed to get it to Alexei before Viktor realized he had been entirely outplayed.
