Page 98 of The Outpost (Jamison Valley 4)
“Why? How?” Even though I’d been hoping this would come true, I’d never really expected it to happen. A part of me had come to terms with the fact that eventually I’d be disappearing from my own life and saying good-bye to my loved ones. “What about the Federovs? I don’t understand how this is possible.”
“Your article saved your ass,” Henry declared.
What was he talking about? My article had put me in this position. “What do you mean?”
“Remember I told you the inside guy with the Russians said they were poking around the case?”
“Of course I remember. That was less than two months ago. Tell me something new.” My patience was running out.
Henry smiled, completely unaffected by my sharp tone. “Well, it turns out they weren’t interested in you at all, just your article.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“The numbers you included were what drew the Russians’ interest.”
I thought back to the story and exactly what I had included. At Anton’s, I’d found a copy of a ledger documenting the gun shipments and another documenting sales. High-res photos had been sent to Henry along with the evidence my source and I had gained from Federov Shipping. But the only thing my article had included were estimates on gun imports over the last ten years and some income estimates for Viktor Federov and his sons.
“Why would the Russians care about how many guns were being imported?” I asked. “Wouldn’t they already know that?”
“Imports weren’t the issue. Sales were.”
“The Federovs were skimming,” Beau said, voicing my thoughts.
Henry nodded. “Yep.”
“And the Russians are only just now noticing?” I asked. “Because of my article? That seems suspicious.”
“I thought so too,” Henry said, “but my inside source says it’s solid intel. The Federovs have been careful, taking just enough to inflate their take but not enough to draw suspicion from their Russian counterparts. Compound small draws over thousands of shipments, though, and they got themselves a nice pay bump. Your article put a spotlight on their operation, so the Russians started running numbers.”
It didn’t surprise me that Anton and his family had gotten greedy. Viktor, Anton’s father, had always seemed fairly levelheaded—for a criminal—but Anton and Ivan were reckless and arrogant.
“Okay. So the Russians aren’t a threat, but what about the Federovs? They’ll still be after me, right? How is it safe to go back to Seattle?”
“The Federovs aren’t going t
o be around much longer,” Henry said. “They’re marked by the Russians. I give them a week in prison, two tops.”
“They aren’t in prison yet, Henry,” I said. “Their trial and any appeals could take months or years.”
He shook his head. “The U.S. Attorney’s office has the Federovs dead to rights and the grand jury will indict fast. No way a judge will grant them bail, so they’ll have to plea-bargain or prepare for their trial from prison—if they live that long. Six months, a year at most, and they’re gone.”
“And until then?” I asked. An ongoing trial did not guarantee my safety, nor did having the Federovs sitting in a jail cell. “It’s not just Viktor, Ivan and Anton I’m worried about. What about their goons?”
“Word is out that the Russians aren’t backing the Federovs,” Henry explained. “All of their former employees, your ‘goons,’ are in the wind or have found new criminal undertakings. The Federovs are drowning and no one is stupid enough to tie a rope to their ship.”
“She could still be in danger. What are you going to do to keep her safe?” Beau asked.
Henry leaned forward and dropped his elbows to his knees. “She’ll have round-the-clock protection from some of my best agents. I’ll see to it myself. And if anything changes with the Federovs, if by some miracle they get out on bail, we’ll go the WITSEC route. We’ll have to play it as it comes. But one thing is for sure, she can’t stay here.”
No, I couldn’t. Not with Dylan Prosser broadcasting my whereabouts and my connection to Beau. I wouldn’t bring more stress into his life or risk putting his family in harm’s way.
I wouldn’t keep being a hassle.
“Look,” Henry said, “if I didn’t think you’d be secure, I wouldn’t have come here again. But like I told your sheriff when I called him earlier to track you down, things are a lot different than they were six weeks ago.”
That was an understatement. Six weeks ago I was at the outpost, happier than I’d been in a decade.
“You promise I’ll be safe?” I asked Henry.
