Panthera Spelaea

Three days later, I was in the CEO’s waiting room of the Moscow offices of Abrahmov Steel. The room was an eclectic mix of classical Russian architecture and modern American influences. Thick red curtains, Faberge eggs, and large oil paintings were next to the minimalist glass and stainless steel furnishings. After thirty minutes spent studying the room under the eye of the striking blonde secretary, I concluded that I hated it. They didn’t want to mix like oil and water, and you couldn’t make them blend.

I hoped that wasn’t an omen for Karpen and Abrahmov.

I’d spent another night on Art’s yacht before a helicopter returned me to Haifa. He had convinced me that he was sincere in his desire to make peace with Mikhail’s heir, who also was Edward Smith’s mate. Now, I had to convince the Scimitar Cat switcher and his new mate that it was safe to meet with him.

Edward was in hiding, but Alexandra had an empire to run. His mate had an office and a phone, thus the afternoon appointment in her office. She had no choice but to be here in Moscow, desperately working to hold her birthright together against all comers. It hadn’t been just Art Karpen who was trying to tear Abrahmov Steel down. Government investigators, major investment houses, and rival businesses circled the company like hyenas around a wounded lion.

I turned in my chair and looked at the elevator as the door opened. Alexandra stepped out, followed by a man and a woman that formed her security team. She looked like she was about to jump out the window in frustration. She barely glanced at me before storming across the waiting room and into her office.

I turned to Olga, who shrugged her shoulders as the doors slammed shut. The two security people took up positions outside, looking over to me. A few minutes later, Olga’s intercom buzzed. She picked up the phone and then told me I could go in.

My bodyguard began to stand, but I told him to remain. Dad arranged for me to have a security team when I landed near Moscow; my other man was in the underground garage with my bulletproof sedan. I tried to stay out of sight, even though the death of the Liger had muted interest in me.

Alexandra’s male bodyguard blocked my way, reaching for a metal detection wand even though the building had tight security. The scan took too long because Alexandra opened the door to figure out why I hadn’t come in yet. “Оставь его в покое, он друг, (Leave him alone, he’s a friend).”

The big man stepped aside, and the female bodyguard started to follow me in. Alexandra held up her hand and motioned for her to remain outside, and the door closed with security on the other side. “Bad day?”

Alexandra’s hands mimicked pulling her hair out as she walked over to the mini-bar in her expansive office. “The board members are driving me crazy,” she said. “Vodka?”

“Please.” She poured two tumblers and walked me to the window. Her office overlooked Red Square, the first time I had seen it since I was on a date with Svetlana. “Want to talk about it?”

“My youth and my tits seem to disqualify me for leadership in the eyes of the Board of Directors,” she said with a sigh. “Under the Corporate bylaws, upon my father’s death, the entire Board of Directors would be up for election within ninety days. The new Board would appoint the next Chief Executive Officer and senior Company officials. In the meantime, the CEO position would be held in trust by his oldest surviving descendant.”

“That’s you.”

“Yes. Although I am the titular CEO, no one is listening to me. The new Board will be elected by shareholders soon, and no one expects me to survive the purge. The stockholders blame me for my father’s actions and the collapse of the stock price. I’ve put up a slate of candidates, but I need help to get them through. I was counting on Vadim to vote his shares with me, but he’s thrown his support behind the slate put up by a Moscow investment bank.”

“Vadim?”

“Vadim Pushkov, the company President and Chief Operating Officer. Vadim was with my father since the beginning, building up the company with him over the years. He controls five percent of the stock, and I was counting on his support to remain CEO.”

It didn’t make sense. I wasn’t a business guy, but something didn’t add up. “If I vote my shares with you and Edward, isn’t that enough? Won’t your slate get voted in?”

She nodded. “And if that saved my position, I wouldn’t be so mad. The problem is that Vadim and his allies have convinced a majority of MY slate of candidates that he’s the logical choice for the job. He offered to let me counteract my ‘youth and inexperience’ by accepting a junior executive role. With me traveling all over trying to reassure stockholders and meeting my mate, that backstabbing fucker turned the slate against me.” She downed the vodka in one swallow, then turned and set it on her desk. “I hope you have better news for me. I haven’t heard any news of Art Karpen’s death, so I hope you hid the body well.”

I shook my head, no, and drank a little of the vodka. I wasn’t a connoisseur, but it was good stuff. “Art is alive and well, and he wants to meet with you and Edward. I’ve convinced him that we need to work together for Switcher good, both in private and in business.”

“Art Karpen hates me, and he’s done everything he could to destroy my company and me personally.”

“Art had a mate for centuries, so he knows EXACTLY what that means for Edward. He set aside his hatred for your grandfather for the greater good of Edward and the Switchers. He wants to meet with you soon to bury the hatchet. He wants to put the hate behind us and work together to restore your company. He says we can all make a lot of money. ”

“What is ‘Bury the Hatchet’?”

“It is an American saying. It means to bury your hatred in the name of peace.”

She poured another vodka, downing it quickly as she thought about what I’d just told her. “You believe Art is sincere in this?”

“I do. Once Art got over the shock and rage his Cave Bear felt over having their prey snatched away, he thought it through. It’s the only play that makes sense for everyone. Art has always seen himself as the leader of the Switchers; when we all disappeared in fear of him, it let him know we weren’t playing around. If he continued to go after one of our mates, the rest would unite against him. Wisely, he chose to forgive.”

“Edward won’t trust him easily.”

“Edward is a new mate, like me, insanely protective of you. He will kill Art before he lets you get hurt, and Art knows it. Given the hostility, I told Art the meeting would have to be on your territory and timing. He could bring a single bodyguard and maybe a driver, and that’s it. Art is big and experienced, but he can’t beat two Switcher cats plus your security staff. He’s taking a chance with his safety by agreeing to meet on your territory. I hope you’ll respect that in the way it is intended.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible. I’m here to get your answer, Alexandra.”

The Russian beauty frowned, trying to think of the best way to do this. “Have Art come to Moscow. You stay in town, and I will contact you when we are ready to meet.”

“Thank you, Alexandra. I will arrange for him to be available tomorrow.” I set the glass on the desk. “I’m glad you’re doing this. Peace between switchers is the only way forward.”

“Not the only way. We could unite together, kill Art, and end the feud.”

“Art has almost two thousand relatives loyal only to him, plus billions in assets. Kill him, and you are killing yourself. Art could kill you and Edward, but that would make enemies of the rest of us. We all lose, Alexandra, and it is bad for business.” I let out a chuckle. “Hell, I just became a multi-millionaire, and I’d like to live long enough to enjoy it.”

“Me too,” she replied. “I’ll be in touch.” She leaned forward, kissing my cheek goodbye. I walked back out, picking up my bodyguard and heading down to my car.

As soon as we rolled out, I took out the burner cellphone and called the number loaded into it. A few rings later, someone answered. “Come to Moscow, the Ritz-Carlton. She will give me the meeting details tomorrow.”

“Understood.” With that, they hung up again.

I returned to the Ritz, eating room service and watching television. I missed my mates terribly, but keeping them hidden was critical. I couldn’t let anyone use them as pawns in this war. They were probably having fun without me, enjoying the summer in Australia while I froze my ass off in Moscow.

I was finishing breakfast when Zach appeared in the restaurant. I slid him a room key and whispered a number. The adjoining room was for my security team, but they were staying in my room with me.

I returned upstairs and opened the connecting door to find Art waiting for me. “Ah, John, thank you for arranging this.”

“I’m just mediating this; it’s up to you, Edward, and Alexandra to make this work.”

At that moment, my phone rang. It was Alexandra. “Now that he is here, take one car and come to this address.” I copied down the address onto a pad of hotel paper. “Leave all your phones, tracking devices, and radios behind in the hotel room. My men will check. If you try to sneak something by him, the meeting is off. My car will be in front of the hotel in three minutes. You, Art, and each of your bodyguards will get in. If we see any other security, it’s off. I’ll see you soon.”

“Our bodyguards need to be armed,” I said.

“One pistol and one knife each. We will check.”

“Thank you,” I responded. Alexandra hung up.

Art heard everything and was already taking out his phone and leaving it on the dresser. “Ready to do this?”

Everyone nodded. I left my driver behind, taking my bodyguard. Zach was protecting Art, and the four of us went downstairs to the waiting limo. A man got out with a metal detector wand, verifying we only had what we were allowed, then let us get in. Zach got in the front of the black, up-armored SUV next to Alexandra’s driver. My bodyguard got the third-row seat while Art sat next to me. “Is it a long drive?”

“Long enough,” the driver replied. Art and I stayed quiet during the trip. We soon left Moscow and headed deep into the woods to the east.

Two helicopters, traveling low, flew over us to the east. “FOOLS,” the driver shouted. “She’ll have you killed for this treachery!”

“IT’S NOT ME,” Art protested as a helicopter fired a missile at a target ahead of us. There was an explosion in the distance, then the sound of gunfire.

We’d arrived just in time for war.