The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (reading in the dark txt) 📗

for anything illegal under any international laws, merely ethical questions and issues with quality control.

“No. I’m fine, but you are not safe, and you need to leave the city immediately.”

“Leave? Why would I leave? Are you…breaking up with me? Did your wife find out about us?” There was an odd sense of hope in her voice, as if the truth being wrought would somehow give her what she wanted—a public relationship with the billionaire.

“No, nothing like that.”

Hana suddenly looked hurt. Her lower lip jutted out as she pouted. “Then why do I have to go? And where am I going?”

“You can go to my chalet in the mountains. It should be safe there until things blow over.” A lie bubbled on the surface of his words, but she didn’t detect it.

“I don’t understand. Your wife doesn’t know. You’re not leaving me. What is this bad thing that’s about to happen?”

His round face hardened and flushed red with frustration. “I wish I could tell you. I really do, but I can’t. In fact, I’m taking a huge risk even coming here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what, Vally?” She stepped close, and her left hand wandered up to his right.

Her scent wafted into his nostrils, the smell of roses and vanilla from the soap he knew she used in the shower. She was beautiful, even after being awakened at such a ridiculous hour. Wearing only a pair of black panties and a tank top, his carnal instincts pulled strings that could have distracted the most pious man.

Survival, however, was paramount.

He sighed, again wishing things could return to the past, even days ago when he was last in this apartment. He longed for things to be different, for he and his unfaithful, unbearable wife to be divorced, or at the very least, separated. He knew that wasn’t possible. Well, it was, but not for the price he’d have to pay financially. Give up half of everything? Not a chance. And then there was the issue of how they would view things, which side they would take. His ambitious wife might be more pliable than he, which would make Valentin expendable.

It was they who’d given him the signal, the warning that only a select few around the world would receive. He knew the second he saw the coded message that things had been set in motion. At first, he couldn’t believe it. His father had told him that one day he may receive a call, and when he did, they would begin making preparations to head for a rendezvous point.

The younger version of Valentin wondered at his father’s strange comments, and only when the older Svoboda passed did Valentin learn the truth.

The details were laid out in the old man’s will, and not even the attorneys were permitted to see them.

“I need you to trust me.” Valentin grabbed Hana’s shoulders and squeezed. He stared deep into her eyes. “If you don’t leave, you will die. Do you understand? They will kill you.”

“Who are they?” she asked, her voice trembling. “What are you talking about? What have you done?”

“Nothing,” he admitted. “I have done nothing. I wish I could tell you more, but I can’t. Not yet. Soon,” he lied. Valentin had no way of knowing if he would ever see her again, if sending her off to his corporate-owned chalet would even be enough.

It would, he thought, be better than leaving her here in the city. The cities would be the first to descend into chaos. Eventually, the destruction would seep into the countryside and the suburbs, leaving death in its wake. Billions would die, he knew. But there was nothing he could do to stop it. All he could do was protect himself and his family. He cared for his children, both a boy and a girl nearing their teenage years. His wife, on the other hand, could fall off a cliff. He should be so lucky. Maybe then, they would allow him to bring Hana as a substitute.

He doubted that. They had rules, strict guidelines that never wavered. It was a fool’s hope to think such things.

“When? When will I see you? Will you tell me then? How long do I have to stay up there?”

“Not long. I promise. It will all be over soon, then we can be together again.” He pulled her close and kissed her wetly. It probably would have disgusted most women, but she wasn’t exactly discerning—except for financial purposes.

He pulled back and nodded at her bedroom. “Get your things. Enough clothes for a week or two. You can wash your things in the laundry there. And there is enough food in the pantry to last a month.”

She frowned at the orders, but slowly nodded. “Okay, Vally. I trust you.”

Hana managed to collect her things and pack her luggage within fifteen minutes. The sense of urgency Svoboda projected may have helped speed things along.

When she was done, he grabbed two suitcases, while she picked up a backpack and a pair of totes. They headed to the door without saying a word. Svoboda felt like it was the last time he’d be in this apartment, with her or otherwise. Soon it would be a pile of rubble or charred walls and burned floors. The property likely wouldn’t survive.

He pulled the door open and held it wide for her to walk through. A muffled pop came from just beyond the threshold. Svoboda looked up in time to see a pink haze spray from the back of Hana’s skull. Her body tipped backward and then fell to the floor, the back of her head hitting the surface with a sickening smack.

Shocked and horrified, Svoboda twisted his head and looked out the door. A pistol with a stream of smoke drifting away from the barrel loomed in the empty space. Svoboda’s eyes rolled over the pistol and up the extended arm to the woman who held it. Her black turtleneck clung to her athletic figure. Her black hair was pulled back