Threat: Follow up to Stranded but not Alone (Dragoslava Connection) Page 2

  Why her? Why now? Did this have anything to do with him becoming owner next year? Of course it did. His competitors stayed on his heels. Anything to bring him down.

  He’d searched every floor, room, and alcove on all seven floors of his office building, and no Bethany. Which one of his competitors was behind this? He was good to his staff, inviting them up to the resort for the winter games. Why would anyone send him a threat?

  They wouldn’t. He knew corporate intimidation. Being the owner’s adopted grandson, he’d fought discrimination his entire life from outsiders, and the fact that he was Russian and not Austrian held contention for many on the board.

  But this threat came from someone’s special account, and the shredded lingerie on his desk held something more sinister. They knew he was still in love with Bethany Cansler, his top financial rep and daily distraction.

  Scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck, Mikhail caught a glimpse of Detective Munson skulking down the hallway.

  The man’s dirty blond hair cut close to his scalp and, built like a freight train, brought memories of last year rushing back.

  “Shamochernyi, I see you and your brother have the same taste in the African American women,” Munson said scribbling in his ratty note pad, snug in the palm of his hand.

  “Beauty’s not the monopoly of one race, Munson. That’s why they invented passports,” he objected to the man’s bigotry, setting a hand on the doorknob of his HR manager’s office. Why did they send this detective, of all the men in the precinct? His sister in-law, Simone, nearly lost her life waiting on Munson to find her in that barn, but his brother, Seth, hadn’t given up until they’d found her, bringing in his military brothers.

  All he thought about was that someone had his woman. It didn’t matter if she’d broken it off with him. Once he located her, he was taking her away, and they were going to fix this problem. A threat on his life was secondary to her being missing, and the lingerie someone stole from her condo and left shredded on his desk.

  “What have you found on Bethany?”

  Inside Mark’s office, they stood in front of the man’s desk.

  Mark didn't look up, but that was no surprise. The man was…well, Mark. Hard-nosed and with zero wit, the man had a reputation for hiring top-notch employees from around the country. He could lure anyone from a competitor in one meeting, and he’d been the one to locate Bethany in the US office over a year ago.

  He glanced out past the row of bowling trophies lining the window ledge behind Mark, each statue turned at a particular angle. Clean cut with no frills just like Mark. “Mark…” Mikhail said tapping the edge of the man's desk before unbuttoning his Hugo Boss suit jacket, easing the worsted wool back to lower himself into the leather club chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. “You’ve gone over the files and know the employee records better than anyone. Whom do you see as sending the threat? I need a name. A suspect?”

  Mark raised his blank green eyes behind the prescription lenses, never moving his head and gave Mikhail a sterile stare.

  “I don’t see anyone else with the opportunity, access, or motive to threaten you, Mr. Shamochernyi.”

  “Is that a statement or accusation, Mark?”

  Mark stiffened his shoulders. “It came from her computer, and she could’ve shredded the lingerie out of anger over your relationship ending,” Mark accused freely. “Women are still women no matter how intelligent she is.”

  “We don’t know who shredded her lingerie. And if someone can hack into a major, retail chain in the US, why not a financial firm in Austria? We deal in multimillion dollar accounts.”

  Mark held a hand up in surrender. “She’s your pet project. Look at it from the polizei’s point of view. She has all the right elements to carry out such a threat, and now she’s missing.”

  The nerve in his temple pulsed. What the hell? “She’s an employee, not a pet anything. You will show the woman respect, regardless of your dislike for her.”

  Mark set his glasses on the desk and closed his laptop. “I have nothing personal against her, Mr. Shamochernyi. She has an impeccable work record, and her customer feedback is topnotch.”

  “Then why the stiff recall of her assets?”

  “You want the truth?”

  About Bethany or you Mark?

  He flexed his fingers, it wasn’t time for that truth. He had his own research pending. Let’s stick to finding Bethany, the other skeletons will surface on their own.

  “In one year I’ll be owner of Heinemann’s and Heinemann’s. I’m not the man you should be lying to when my company’s about to be plastered across the media for having a death threat sent to, the boss’ grandson.”

  Mark dropped back in his chair. “Out of the five, highly qualified candidates for that position, you selected the only female, for a high volume of male owned accounts.”

  The muscle in his bicep jerked behind his fingers curling into his palms. Suppressing the urge to shove the man out the window, Mikhail gave him a second to hear his biased statement. Mark said nothing, face tight, and it was obvious he’d heard the error.

  “If you can find something wrong with her performance, Mark, I’ll fire Ms. Cansler myself.” He cracked his knuckles then leaned over his knees; the word ignorant perched between his lips like a lit cigarette with an inch of ash hanging from the tip. “If you can’t find something legitimately wrong, outside of the fact that I dated Ms. Cansler, and we both know you had a problem with that, I’ll fire you for discrimination on the basis of this employee’s gender,” he said letting the words seep out between clenched teeth, “Have you lost your mind! We have a missing employee, and you think this is the time to decide if she was the right gender for the position.”

  And Mark would come up missing if the man had anything to do with Bethany’s disappearance. He couldn’t let him see how much this bothered him on a personal level, because of what she meant to him, regardless of their break-up.

  Mark jerked back in his chair. His throat flushed a beet red up over his ears.

  Mikhail pushed the coffee mug beside the laptop to the side, opening Bethany’s file on top of the stack on Mark’s desk. “Ms. Cansler’s one of my strongest reps, saving Heinemann’s millions after taking over those accounts when the last rep quit. It bothers you she got a rank change.”

  Mark spoke; his face a mottled mess of broken blood vessels around his cheeks. “My meaning was her accounts being predominately male…a male representative might suit the client better, putting them at ease.”

  “Has there been complaints about her professionalism?”

  “No…”

  “Then we have no problem?”

  Munson scribbled in his pad, his beady stare absorbing their conversation closely forming an opinion about Bethany, Mikhail caught. The same as he had with Simone, his brother’s wife.

  Mark pushed his shoulders back and sat up straight tugging his lapels. “I underestimated her ability to adapt to an unfamiliar country and a new work environment,” he admitted, but the glint in his eyes didn’t match the venom in his tone. Was he for or against Bethany? “She has a stellar reputation and has never missed a day of scheduled work,” he acknowledged in a tight-lipped tone he embossed across his face.

  Tension sat hot between them.

  “So this is a non-issue,” Mikhail warned reminding Mark who was in charge.

  Mark slipped the glasses on, breaking their eye contact. “You’re the boss.”

  It was only a matter of time before their connection filled the space between them, and here it was. He would keep his grandfather’s secret as promised as long as possible.

  “Is that a problem, Mark? If you’re having a problem with the way I’m running this company…my company?”

  Mark bristled. “Never.”

  “Good,” Mikhail waited for the day when jealousy would come between them. But this isn’t Mark’s way to hurt a woman. To hurt him…possibly.

  Mark’s green eyes held fury for
a split second then died. “Her safety comes first, and it looks like someone’s setting her up.” Mark scooted his chair closer to the desk. His body was tense with a complaint he wouldn’t reveal, but Mikhail saw it. There had been tension between them ever since Bethany came to work in this office from the states.

  “Glad we understand one another,” Mikhail said. Reaching over the desk, he reopened Mark’s laptop, unable to take his eyes off the man full of secrets one very personal.

  He caught the tick in Mark’s jaw.

  “Mr. Faerber, how long have you known Ms. Cansler?” Detective Munson asked, his rumpled coat rustling under him as he jotted down in his note pad.

  “A year ago, we transferred her over from the US office for the diversity program, and she’s been with the firm almost seven years now...a veteran rep in the states.”

  “She’s young…under thirty,” Munson acknowledged.

  “Recruited straight from college,” Mikhail announced, proud of Bethany’s work.

  “And what’s your relationship like with Ms. Cansler, Mr. Faerber? Would you say she’s easy to get along with or a trouble starter?”

  Mark stroked his chin between thumb and forefinger. “She’s a consummate professional, Detective.”

  “Yet others view her as a problem?”

  The air swelled with tension.

  “You can say that,” Mark agreed. “Her numbers rank with the veterans, and her German is broken at best but her clients respect her judgment. She’s real competition. It happens on all levels of corporate business.”

  Mikhail let those words sink in. “That happens in all companies, Detective. Until she’s found everyone’s a suspect.”

  Munson nodded.

  “I’ll do another employee sweep and check any who have taken an advance on their paycheck or a loan against their holdings. But I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention, you’re the only one that views Ms. Cansler as missing and not just not in her office. What makes you believe she was kidnapped?”

  She’s missing.

  This person admitted in the email that they’d take something from him. Bethany’s a vital part of his staff. “Until we find her, she’s in danger.”

  If only he knew from who.

  Mark raised a brow. “The list I forwarded is my professional opinion of those with the most to gain from threatening you. Not many. The regular background checks made it easy to eliminate ninety percent of our employees. And from the criteria the detective gave me to search from, the only names that stand out are employees who swiped their cards the minutes preceding or succeeding Ms. Cansler from lunch and also have access to this floor.”

  Mikhail eyed the names on the right hand side of the screen setting them to memory…Two officers, a rep, and the head of marketing.

  He could eliminate one off the top, as she came in with him and was in the same meeting. The other was Glenda, one of Bethany’s closest colleagues. According to Glenda’s statement, Bethany stayed home last night to share a ride to the winter games at his family’s resort. The other two men he’d check into. “Have either man reported internal complaints on Ms. Cansler? Somebody’s not talking and knows where she is.”

  “No, but have you considered a jilted lover? Shredded lingerie screams fatal attraction. And I do know she’s turned down several date requests since arriving a year ago and hasn’t dated since your breakup.”

  Suspicion rode Mikhail hard. “How would you know that?”

  “Men talk. Bethany’s been labeled as—easy,” he drew the word out, his lip snarled up on the corner in a grimace. “She’s Mikhail’s toss-off.”

  He stopped pacing to stare at Mark and lean over his desk, his breathing labored. “Was she being harassed?” he forced.

  “Ms. Canlser has admirers, both in and outside of Heinemann’s. I professionally handled the improper invitations within the company. However, she receives legitimate business offers monthly as any good financial representative does. Whether she entertains them is out of my control.”

  “Are any of these outside offers of a romantic nature, Mr. Faerber,” detective Munson asked.

  “I can’t say outside of our company who’s interested in Ms. Cansler, romantically.”

  Disturbed, Mikhail took a minute to assess their relationship, and he could see why she hadn’t wanted him to know. She didn’t trust him. Safety trumped everything.

  “And what if I hadn’t asked?” Mikhail swore, demanding an answer from the man.

  Mark appeared disjointed when his body jerked toward the paper settled between them on the desk. “Their names are on the top of my list, investigated and cleared. I want Ms. Cansler returned safely as well.” He stared accusingly at Mikhail, his Adam’s apple bobbing behind the white collar. “She’s a good employee; clients trust her intuition implicitly and value her knowledge.”

  Why was he wavering with his support? Watching Mark, Mikhail reclined in the leather chair, one elbow on the armrest, his chin propped on his fist. “I’m glad we agree on her importance.”

  “Mr. Shamochernyi, were you and Ms. Cansler living together? The media is reporting you’re going through a nasty divorce, and she’s unhappy with the settlement.”

  “Media stunt, detective. Ms. Cansler and I dated that’s all.”

  Munson shrugged his big body. “I don’t judge the sexual proclivities of my suspects, Mr. Shamochernyi. Public arguments could be a form of fetish between you two.”

  “What about the condo search, Munson? What did you find?”

  “Her home was trashed. Broken flat screen, overturned tables, emptied drawers.”

  “So you know someone’s after her, why is she still a suspect?”

  “That proves someone broke into her home, not that she didn’t send the threat.”

  This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. His brother and his family came all the way from London to spend the week with him, and he had a stalker and a missing employee.

  Mikhail, with Munson breathing down his back, crossed the hall to his office and left his brother a message to post security around the resort. The winter games started tomorrow and guests would start arriving tonight if they hadn’t already.

  ~~~CB~~~

  Together Mikhail and Detective Munson jumped to their feet when the lights began to flicker. The computers died and people screamed up and down the corridor.

  “What the hell now?” He bolted down the hall to the elevators; Mark hustled from his office to follow shoes pounding over the floor. “That had to be a manual shut down or the generator would’ve automatically started. This is too coincidental.” Munson kept up as they ran down to the computer floor. Mikhail shoved his hip against the metal bar on the steel door. The locked held. “Shit,” he complained, remembering the code, punching it out on the keypad. It opened. He ran full out down the hall suit jacket flapping behind him. Hooking a hand around the wall, he bolted down the second corridor shoes slapping over the tile, while his chest burned with every breath.

  Computer technicians stood at the security box manually typing in the codes to access the room.

  “What happened?” Mikhail ordered shuttling his hurried stares around the room, looking for the cause of the power failure.

  The tall man said, “I don’t know. We were still being interrogated when the lights started shutting down. We just got down here. The system doesn’t go down in one sweep. It shuts down by grid. One at a time. Someone did that manually, Mr. Shamochernyi.”

  Four polizei rushed down from the other end of the hall brandishing guns, boots pounding the tiled floor, the sound echoing off the walls. “Move, move, move,” the first polizei directed, nodding toward them. Mikhail gave a nod. The tech backed away.

  They stalked the room past the black screens and rows of components stacked to the ceiling. “All clear on this end.”

  “Check the mainframe room at the back,” Mikhail ordered, ushering his tech toward the door two officers leading the way.

  “Let me open it,�
� the polizei in front said reaching for his weapon. “It could be a set-up.” He held his gun in the air one handed, manually typing in the code as the tech fed him the numbers with the other. “This is the polizei. Put your hands in the air. I’m coming in.”

  A muffled cry came from the other side, only it was weaker now. Mikhail stepped closer behind the other polizei, listening to the sound coming from under the door. A woman’s muffled voice… He knew that moan.

  “Open the other door,” he ordered his pulse racing; thudding in his temple.

  The gray door swung in and …Nothing, but an open cage with the keyboard flipped down and the icons still on the desktop. Whoever shut down the system just left, so they could still be in the building with Ms. Cansler.”

  “Mr. Shamochernyi, someone was here. That cage is always closed,” a tech said getting in beside Mikhail to look at the computer. “See here, someone hit the emergency shutdown icon. That didn’t happen on its own. She was here.”

  Bethany’s perfume filled his nose. He whirled around bumping the open gate to the control panel.

  “That’s her perfume. Where is she? I know I heard a woman’s voice,” Mikhail cursed coming out of the cabinet to run to the other tall cages forcing the doors open one by one.

  “Nothing in these either, Mr. Shamochernyi,” Mark said. The polizei did the same.

  Munson held the outer door open. “Was this a trick, Shamochernyi?” he accused.

  Ignoring his words, Mikhail ran from the room, Mark on his heels down the hall. He ran to the second elevator at the end of the hall, a weak muffled voice filled in overhead. He slammed his body into the steel doors of the stairs leaping the steps two at a time his watch slammed against the wall as he rounded the levels to the door.

  On the main floor, he exploded onto the parking lot. Cameras snapping pictures left and right as he ran around to the loading dock in the back. A white SUV sat idle with the back door open and stocking feet stuck out past the doors, delicate ankles tied together.

  Men swarmed the area as he got into the truck pulling Bethany into his arms. She fought his hold, eyes wide, then slowly as recognition pulled back her fear, she settled against his chest.