Vera Karanova was smiling a thin smile. "I don't know how far you think you will get with this."
"We seem to be working toward different objectives," Novosty answered. "Michael has a solution to everybody's problem. I regret very much you've chosen not to help facilitate it."
"The only problem he solved was yours," she shot back. "Mr. Vance devised what amounts to an enormous check kiting scheme. You two planned to perpetrate fraud. You're nothing better than criminals, both of you, and I intend to make sure you haven't also given us a short count."
"Comrade, fraud is a harsh word," Vance interjected.
"You are not as amusing as you think," she replied.
"Humor makes the world go round."
'This is not a joke. The negotiable instruments in this room are Soviet funds. I intend to make sure those funds are intact. There will be a full and complete count. Now."
She's gone over the edge, he told himself. She's definitely going to try and screw us, either wittingly or unwittingly. But who in the room is going to help her? That huddled group of Russian bankers now staring terrified at Novosty's 9mm? Not damned likely. She's improvising, on her own. But her little stunt could well end up sinking the ship.
The two couriers were now spread against the brown textured fabric of the wall, legs apart. He walked over and reached into the leather holsters at their hips, drawing out their revolvers. They were snub-nosed Smith & Wesson Bodyguards, .38 caliber. He looked them over, cocked them, and handed one to Eva.
"How about covering the door? I think it's time we got down to business and traded some bonds."