Zubov pushed a button under the table. “I will have Pavel drive you anywhere in Moscow you wish. You must never contact me again.”
“Just call me a taxi, please,” Valentina said, trying to hide her alarm.
“Pavel will drive you.”
“A taxi will be fine.”
“I said, Pavel will drive you.”
A moment later, the door opened and Pavel appeared. Valentina had gotten up and was standing near the samovar, leaning on her cane.
“Pavel, drive Ms. Roberto wherever she wants to go.”
Valentina had purposefully turned her back on the two of them, and was facing the samovar, carefully watching their reflections in the highly polished surface.
She clearly saw Yuri Zubov raise his hand and make a quick cutting motion across the throat.
A few minutes later, Pavel led Valentina out into a large garage that
