The First Billion

The first shot took him high in the leg. He hadn't heard a thing and had it not been for the spout of blood that erupted from his pant leg, he would have thought it a bee sting at worst. One hand grasped the railing for support, while the other fell to his thigh. "This is absurd," he heard himself saying, and then somewhat irrationally, "It's Monday morning, for Christ's sake," as if murder were not a state-approved way to begin the workweek. His eyes darted around, but he saw nothing. A sense of desperation seized him. Frantically, he tried to continue up the stairs. He took one step and fell to the pavement, writhing in pain.

"Get up, Baranov. It's unseemly for government officials to grovel. Especially honest ones."

It was the voice from the telephone. The voice he couldn't quite place. Only now, he knew exactly to whom it belonged. Grimacing, Baranov lifted his head and squinted to make out the figure at the top of the stairs. "You," he said.

"Who else?"

Konstantin Kirov stood in a black suit with a black tie, hands on his hips, offering a gaze as morbid as his attire. "I have a message from the president. He asked me to deliver it personally." Kirov snapped his fingers, and someone tossed him a large rifle. A Kalashnikov. With a halting, unsteady motion, Kirov cleared the chamber and brought the weapon to his shoulder. The gun looked ridiculously large in the small man's hands.

"He said, 'Be quiet,' " Kirov finished.

Baranov raised himself to his feet. He felt neither fear nor lament, but a pervasive contempt for this pitiable excuse for a human being.

"Liar!" he shouted.

A hail of bullets riddled his body in time to the jackhammer's renewed assault.

***

Tell me the truth," said Konstantin Kirov.

"Yes, I promise."

"What did he want?"

Pillonel hesitated, and the knife dug in. "Mercury," he said. "They knew I had faked the due diligence. They wanted proof."

"And you gave it to them. Without so much as a call to a lawyer or the local police, you gave it to them."

"They knew," said Pillonel. "They already knew, goddamn it. Gavallan said he was going to the SEC with or without my help. He was going to report me to the Swiss authorities." The intruder had tied his hands and feet to the bedposts with elastic cord and was kneeling beside the bed. In one hand, the man held the knife delicately, as if ready to fillet a fish, the point inserted meanly between Pillonel's ribs. In the other, he had a cell phone, which he pressed to Pillonel's ear. Pillonel had an urge to explain everything at once. "Gavallan had a gun. He put it to my head. I thought he would kill me. I had no choice. Of course I gave them the real books."

"I can understand your anxiety at being confronted with your misdeeds. But why did you take them to your offices?"

"Gavallan demanded I show him Mercury's exact financial condition- how much money the company had really been earning, its revenues, its expenses, its profits."

"And you showed him. How kind of you to be so helpful." The voice was more ominous because of its even tone, the complete absence of aggression, irony, or anger. "Did you ever once consider telling him he was mistaken, to leave you alone?"

"I couldn't. I told you, he had a gun. He said you had killed the man on the Internet, that you would kill me next."

"I never knew you for such a gullible sort." Kirov laughed, then resumed his unhurried interrogation. "And after Mercury, what did you show them? Did Gavallan have any idea he was so close to the crown jewels?"

"Nothing. I gave them nothing."

"Novastar?"

"It did not come up."

"Not even a mention? What about Futura and Andara? Baranov knew well enough about them. Didn't Miss Magnus have any questions about them? You didn't show them the holding company's banking records?"

Pillonel lay still, the lie poised above him like the blade of a guillotine. "I'm no fool. The records would take me down too."

"If you gave them Mercury, you were already going down. If I were you, I might have taken the opportunity to win over the authorities, show them the error of my ways, maybe even try to offer up something to protect myself. I'm sorry I must be so thorough in this matter, but I'm sure you can understand that it is of the utmost importance I learn exactly what materials you gave Mr. Gavallan and Miss Magnus."

Pillonel looked at his wife, his eyes begging her forgiveness. "I gave them nothing," he whimpered. "Only Mercury. Novastar did not come up."

"Ah, Jean-Jacques, you are a poor liar. Calm yourself now. You have nothing to worry about. I have them both with me- Cate and Mr. Gavallan. No more harm can be done. You don't have to worry. I think you know what will happen if you decide to go to the authorities."

"Yes, absolutely. Not a word."

"Now tell me the truth and you'll be on your way to Mahé before you know it. What evidence did you give Gavallan?"

Mahé. Sanctuary. A new life.

Pillonel grasped at the words, seeking solace and safety. His hands came away scratched and empty. Kirov was also a poor liar. "Nothing."