“Nothing that can’t be rearranged, surely? The work we’re discussing could benefit millions of people, Marko. Isn’t that worth a weekend of your time?”
And yeah, they might have sounded like friendly words, but even to Chloe’s ear, this didn’t really seem like an invitation.
More like an order.
“Yes,” Dr. Radic said finally. “Yes, of course. I would be honored.”
“Excellent.” Volkov’s smile broadened. “I’ll have my assistant send you the details. The resort is quite beautiful this time of year. Very private, very secure. Perfect for the kind of discussions we need to have.”
Dr. Radic nodded, then practically fled out the back door.
Chloe watched as Volkov turned and cast a look over the catering area. His gaze passed right over her and Skeet, but something cold flickered across his features.
He’d made them.
Maybe.
Possibly.
Chloe forced herself to examine the fruit display. Mangoes. Pineapple. Dragon fruit arranged in a sort of waterfall.
When she glanced up again, Volkov was gone.
“We need to follow Radic,” Skeet said quietly.
“Agreed. But let’s keep our distance.”
Ten minutes later, the concrete chill of the hotel parking garage raised goosebumps on her arms as they tracked Dr. Radic to his small white rental car. He paced in tight circles, talking rapidly into his phone in what sounded like Czech, his voice echoing off concrete walls.
She didn’t know Czech, but?—
“That definitely sounds like panic,” Skeet said.
He darted behind a concrete pillar and she joined him. Close enough to hear, but hidden in the shadows between overhead lights. The garage reeked of exhaust fumes and oil, with an underlying dampness that suggested rain.
Dr. Radic stood outside his car, tie hanging loose, shirt untucked, hair sticking up at odd angles as if he’d been running his hands through it.
“He looks on the edge of a complete breakdown,” Skeet said. She held up her hand to silence him.
“—cannot do this anymore,” Dr. Radic was saying, suddenly in English. “The children in the villages, they are dying, not getting better. The supplements are wrong somehow. Contaminated, maybe, or...”
Chloe’s breath caught.
He doesn’t know.
Dr. Radic genuinely thought his supplements were supposed to help people. He had no idea he was giving them poison.
She pulled out her phone, started recording, zooming in to capture the anguish on his face.
He paused, listening to whoever was on the other end. Dr. Radic’s shoulders sagged as the voice spoke. When heresponded, his voice cracked. “No, I will not go to the resort. I don’t care about the funding. This has to stop. Children are dying because of my work!”
His voice rose, echoing off concrete walls. “I’m going to the authorities. The police, the World Health Organization, whoever will listen. This ends now.”
Footsteps echoed from the elevators.
Dr. Radic looked up from his phone call, face draining of color in the wan light as three men in identical dark suits approached.
Chloe’s stomach dropped.