"Well, now. Looks like we're all ready for a nightcap." Vance took Eva's hand, nodded at the doorman, and led her through the lobby doors. Over his shoulder he yelled back. "I honestly recommend the American bar upstairs. Terrific view."
"Michael, please wait." Novosty limped after him, through the doorway, then grasped his arm. "We need to talk first."
"About what?"
"You know very well. The money. Michael, the game is up, can't you see? I've got to return it, all of it, and face the consequences, God help me. I have no choice. They—"
"You know, Alex, that's probably a good idea. Things were getting too rough. This was a hustle you should have left to the big boys. I tried to tell you that back in Athens, the other morning. Just give it back."
"What are you saying?" He went pale.
"Just return the money. Try and make them see it was a misunderstanding. How were you supposed to know it was embezzled? You were just following orders, right? They can probably cover the whole thing over as just some kind of paperwork shuffle."
"Michael, don't play games with me." He was clenching Vance's sleeve, his voice pleading.
"Hey, we're partners, remember? I'll back you all the way." He urged Eva on past the gaggle of bellmen and into the marbled lobby. The chandeliers sparkled and the room still bustled with bejeweled evening people. "Now we're all just going to have a very civilized drink."
The possibility of that seemed to be diminishing, however. The two men, clearly KGB "chauffeurs," had now moved alongside menacingly.