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My eyes welled with tears, but Slash’s hands were gentle and steady on mine. “My vow to you is this. Marriage binds us together in a sacred vow, blessed by God, that I promise to you will forever remain unbroken. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever had in my life. I will cherish you forever.”

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. The exchange of rings, the prayer of the faithful, the nuptial blessing, music, more prayers, and finally Communion and our kiss.

Then it was over. Slash and I had been officially married in the church.

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders. We took some more photos outside, and it didn’t matter that my hair wasn’t styled right, I was wearing tennis shoes under my wedding dress, Slash was wearing his brother’s tuxedo, and my bullet-riddled veil had been fashioned in some unusual way to hide the rip in my dress.

We had wonderful wedding photos taken with the pope, the president, our family, our friends, and each other. While I may not have looked perfect, I was truly happy in all of them.

Even the hordes of paparazzi, media, and spectators we saw lining the road and clogging traffic back to the hotel for our reception couldn’t dampen my mood.

At the reception I ate as if famished, danced more than I’d ever danced in my life, and had the time of my life being together with the people I loved.

Despite all my misgivings and everything we had to go through to get to this point, our wedding had turned out just right.

FIFTY-NINE

Boris Plotnikov

Larnaca Airport, Cyprus

Sunday morning

The biggest risk in life is not taking any risk. Now Boris had to consider that the risk he’d taken by going after the ComQuest meddlers might have been a huge miscalculation. He’d know shortly. By the time he landed, he should be hearing the first news reports—if Sergei was successful.

He’d been lucky that one of Sergei’s sources inside the Russian intelligence agency had alerted him that Moscow was preparing an operation in Monaco to eliminate him. Apparently, the Americans had information tying him to the assassination attempts in the US and believed the Russians were using him to do their dirty work. The Russian government, naturally, was unaware of his activities and apparently furious at him because they were being blamed for it. Government officials thought if he had an “accident,” it would cleanly solve everyone’s problems, and they could demonstrate to the Americans their hands were clean.

Things had become too hot, and his place in Monaco was far too well-known. Even though he had excellent security, he couldn’t trust it to withstand a professional attack, unlike the one Sergei had overseen. He needed an out and thankfully, Sergei had a recommendation.

Sergei had a safe house on the beach just outside the city of Larnaca in Cyprus. He said the house was used infrequently, and the neighborhood was upscale and quiet. Best yet, it was just fifteen minutes to the airport. That meant he could have his jet ready at a moment’s notice to fly to a new destination.

It had cost him a lot, in bitcoin, of course, both for Sergei’s help and to grease the hands of the Cypriot officials who would turn a blind eye when he entered the country. It was a necessary expense. At least here he had ready access to his money. With the encrypted files on his laptop, he could readily access a half dozen well-hidden accounts in Cypriot banks.

Russian money was a big part of their economy, and they asked few questions. He also could reach another dozen offshore accounts placed around the world to minimize the risk of someone freezing his money. He had money; he just needed time and invisibility.

He decided he would hole up here until the furor in the US calmed down, regardless of whether Sergei succeeded with the US operation. If he did succeed, the Russians would be far too busy figuring out how to take advantage of the situation to look for him. In fact, once they realized the long-term benefits of his plan, he was certain they’d welcome him back.

It was a risk. It was also his only immediate option. Sergei had said that when he landed, he’d be met by an official who would help him bypass customs and immigration and provide him with transportation. This was far from ideal, but at least he had a place to escape. In the future, he needed to plan a little better and have more safe houses of his own established in case he had to do this again.

The Mediterranean Sea looked black and smooth as he looked out the airplane window to his right. There were a few lights twinkling on the water, probably fishing vessels getting an early start on the day, as they made their final descent into Larnaca International Airport. It was near dawn when they landed, and they were the only jet moving on the flightline as they taxied in. The pilot requested parking where Sergei had instructed, and they pulled up in front of a darkened hangar and shut down.

Landing in the dark had its advantages. Foremost, you were much less likely to be noticed. There was a dark sedan and a fuel truck already parked nearby when he deplaned. While the pilot arranged the refueling, Boris walked casually over to the sedan carrying just a single bag. It had a few clothes, but it was mostly filled with cash. You could get almost anything if you had enough cash.

As Boris approached, the passenger’s door opened and he briefly saw two men, one of whom stepped out and faced him closing the door behind him. The man said something to him in Greek, which he couldn’t understand. When he indicated he didn’t understand, the man switched to passable Russian with a strange accent. He was obviously used to working with foreigners. “Is that all that you have?” He pointed at the bag.

“Yes, I’m just making a short stop. I was told someone would assist me with transportation.” He responded carefully, making sure he was talking with his expected contact.

The man nodded. “Our mutual friend said you’d require assistance, so I have a driver here for you.”

“I assume he is trustworthy?” Boris asked.

“He has a thousand reasons not to see or hear anything. He’s been instructed not to talk, so don’t ask him any questions.”

“Excellent. Shall we go?” Boris asked.

“Please climb in. We’ll go into a building near here and transfer vehicles. You and the driver will get into the second vehicle, and I’ll return with this one. The windows are tinted, but you’ll need to lie down in the back seat until we are clear of the airport and the driver signals it is okay to sit up. Understand?”

“Understood.”