Broken Together (24 page)

My
stomach turned when I considered the ramifications. “This could lead to war,
not just between Ukraine and Russia but between Russia and the United States.”

Oni
paled.

I
set my food on the coffee table. I felt too nauseous to eat.

Kadyn’s
arm braced my back as he whispered discretely. “You’ll see the U.S. position a carrier
group in the Black Sea and run training exercises simultaneous to the
installation as a precaution, a show of force, and a distraction.” He squeezed
my shoulders reassuringly.

A
chill stole through my bones. I feared what we’d begun so much so that I barely
registered the football game and the tour of Cenia’s house. I perked up when
the results for the chili cook-off were announced. Kadyn won best chili, Brady
came in second place, and Jase came in third. Of course, Roger scored the award
for the manliest Crock-pot.

*
* * * *

I
twisted the strand of pearls Rafael had given me. The black dress suit with the
white silk camisole and pencil skirt fit my mood perfectly. I was dreading the
meeting with Senator Rockefeller, in part because I finally grasped the
consequences in terms of human lives. If we chose not to fund the pipeline, it would
prove difficult for Ukraine to strengthen its economy and sever ties with
Russia. With Russian forces already amassed along the eastern border and poised
to invade, Putin could easily take Ukraine in its weakened state. While funding
the pipeline would enable Ukraine to improve its economy and sever ties with
Russia, this strategy was even more likely to lead to war. Either way, war
seemed inevitable for Ukraine and possibly the United States.

“Are
you okay?” Jase slid effortlessly into a parking space.

“I’m
fine. I’m just tired. I was too worried about this meeting to sleep last
night.” I researched alternative funding streams nearly the entire night. Congress
was still Plan A since it was the only place where I maintained useful
connections. USAID was Plan B, although I didn’t know anyone working at that
agency. IMF was Plan C, an option of last resort. I was planning to run the
alternative funding streams by Senator Rockefeller if he shot down the rider.
Even if we couldn’t secure congressional funding, I was certain he could help
me establish the necessary connections at IMF and USAID.

Jase
helped me from the Jeep. “Perhaps an early bed time is in order since you don’t
have school tonight.” He fed the meter before escorting me inside the
restaurant.

Senator
Rockefeller was sitting next to a man I didn’t recognize. Both stood as we
approached. Senator Rockefeller reached for my hand first. “Ms. Stone, thank
you for joining us.”

“Of
course, Senator. Thank you for inviting me to lunch. I’d like you to meet my
friend and my bodyguard, Jase Adkins. Jase, this is Senator Jay D. Rockefeller.”

Senator
Rockefeller shook Jase’s hand before introducing the man with the salt and
pepper hair. “This is Mark Sondell. He represents the United States on the IMF
Executive Board.”

I
squared my shoulders as I grasped his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

Jase
held my chair before claiming his seat. Our waiter handed us tightly rolled steaming
washcloths with bamboo tongs before taking our drink orders. My stomach felt
too queasy to order anything more than sparkling water.

Senator
Rockefeller began as soon as the waiter walked away from the table. We’d agreed
on the set menu while placing our drink order. “As Mr. Sondell’s presence might
suggest, I think it would be beneficial to pursue funding for the Odessa-Brody
pipeline through the IMF.”

“In
lieu of the rider or in addition to congressional funding?” I warily inquired.

“I’ve
run this proposal by the senate democratic leadership. I believe we can garner
enough support to pursue the rider, but I don’t believe we can accomplish this
in time for the upcoming election,” Senator Rockefeller replied. “I’d like to
ensure a pro-Western candidate wins the election in Ukraine. Funding the
pipeline may help us achieve that objective, but you know how this works.
There’s no way we can get this rider and whatever bill it’s attached to through
committee, the full House, and the Senate before the election. The IMF can act
more swiftly, and this is precisely the type of project their organization funds.”

Mr.
Sondell braced his elbow against the table. “I can add this to our agenda and secure
a vote from the executive board as soon as Ukraine files their letter of
intent. We should be able to secure the funding within a week to ten days.”

We
paused briefly when the waiter returned with our drinks and a platter of
steamed dumplings.

I
studied the two men while they transferred steamed dumplings to their plates.
“How detailed would Ukraine have to be in this letter of intent? Would Mr.
Markov have to reveal that the loan will be used to extend the pipeline?”

“Yes.
The letter of intent must provide sufficient detail to ensure a favorable vote.”
Mr. Sondell dunked his dumpling in the dipping sauce before popping it in his
mouth.

I
shook my head when Jase offered me the dumplings. “With all due respect, I feel
that would be a grave mistake.”

Senator
Rockefeller’s chopsticks stalled just above his plate.

“I’m
certain we can garner enough votes to approve funding for this pipeline,” Mr.
Sondell assured me.

I
forced an even tone. “Russia’s Aleksei Mozhin sits on the IMF Executive Board.”

His
eyebrows lifted. “Russia does not wield enough votes to block this.”

“I’m
aware of that fact, but Mr. Mozhin would undoubtedly alert President Putin of
these plans. Putin has been trying to block the extension of the Odessa-Brody
pipeline for years. He paid Yanukovych to connect the Odessa-Brody pipeline to
the Druzhba pipeline. He blocked trade with Ukraine until they reversed the
flow of oil, so the Odessa-Brody pipeline transports Russian oil to
Mediterranean countries instead of transporting Ukrainian fuel as was
originally intended. This has crippled the Ukrainian economy and left them even
more vulnerable to Russia’s influence. Putin has troops stationed along
Ukraine’s eastern border. He’s just itching to invade. Mr. Markov and I are
concerned that he will bomb the pipeline or invade Ukraine when he gets wind of
this project. We need to secure funding, get the missile defense system in
place, and complete the project as discretely as possible.”

“Ukraine
has expressed an interest in housing the missile defense shield we developed
for Poland. This would enable them to protect the pipeline among other things,”
Senator Rockefeller explained.

Mr.
Sondell eyed my empty plate. “Russia has grown increasingly hostile toward them.
I fear they will invade either way.”

“I
appreciate your willingness to fund this pipeline, but I have another option
I’d like to discuss with Senator Rockefeller before settling on a course of
action.” I pushed my plate aside. “USAID was granted seventeen billion dollars
in discretionary funding last week. I’d like to see if they’d be willing to fund
this project. This would enable us to proceed a bit more discretely. They
already have staff assigned to the embassy in Ukraine who could provide
oversight and monitoring.”

“Your
objectives are consistent with their mission.” Senator Rockefeller stroked his
jaw.

Mr.
Sondell grew pensive. “Would they be willing to fund the entire project?”

I
winced. “Seven hundred and eighty million dollars is a lot of money for USAID to
invest in a single country. I’m still holding out hope the European Investment
Bank or the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development will finance a
portion of this project.”

“Have
you approached them?” The Senator claimed the last dumpling when the waiter arrived
with the main course.

My
stomach growled when I smelled the flounder and bok choy smothered in crab. “Mr.
Markov is meeting with them tomorrow.”

He
fished his phone from his coat pocket. “Do you know anyone over at USAID?”

“No.”
I bit my bottom lip. “I was hoping you could recommend someone.”

He
typed out a brief text. “You’ll have a name by the end of the day. I’ll do what
I can to pave the way.”

Gradually,
I released the breath I’d been holding. “Thank you, Senator.”

Mr.
Sondell handed me his business card. “You’re welcome to call if that doesn’t
pan out.”

I
tucked his card inside my wallet. “Thank you, Mr. Sondell. I truly appreciate
your help.”

The
lunch ended amicably with coffee and a chocolate torte.

*
* * * *

“Hi,
love. How’d it go?”

“Well,
Maxim’s a month into his campaign and we still haven’t secured any funding.” I
turned the light off in the bathroom and padded off to bed. “Senator
Rockefeller has been incredibly supportive, but he doesn’t think we can secure
the funding before the election if we go through Congress.”

“What
are you going to do?” There was some rustling over the phone while Rafael
settled in for our call.

I
glanced at the clock on my cell phone. It was eight o’clock in Virginia, one
o’clock in the morning in Lisbon. “I’m going to pursue grant funding through
USAID. I’m meeting with the executive director of their Global Development Lab
on Thursday. Maxim’s meeting with the European Investment Bank and the European
Bank for Reconstruction and Development tomorrow morning, so we’ll have a better
understanding of our options by the end of the week.”

“Are
you still flying to Lisbon Thursday night?”

I
shivered when my legs slid between the cool sheets. “Yes. Are you still free
this weekend?”

“I’m
free,” he assured me. “I’ll have the jet fueled and waiting for you at Reagan
National Airport by five o’clock Thursday. I’ll make sure you’re pre-cleared so
you don’t have to go through customs, and I’ll meet you at the jet so you don’t
have to walk through the airport by yourself.”

“I
don’t want to see anybody. I don’t want to go out to eat. I just want to stay
home and cuddle with you.” Work, school, and Maxim’s campaign had proven exhausting.
If the truth be told, I just wanted to crawl under a rock and never again see
the light of day. I was
that
tired.

“I
have something very low key planned for Friday and Saturday, just the two of
us, but we’re meeting with the priest on Sunday so we can begin the marriage
preparation course.”

I’d
totally forgotten we were going to squeeze that in when I returned to Lisbon.
“Sounds good.” Hopefully, I could sleep during the flight. I sighed, recalling
the first time we flew on Rafael’s jet. It seemed wrong, flying on that jet
without him.

“What’s
the matter, baby?” Rafael could read me, sight unseen, from thousands of miles
away.

“Nothing.
I just miss you. A lot.” Thursday could not come soon enough.

“I
miss you too,” he whispered soothingly.

“Tell
me about your case,” I pleaded around a throat full of tears.

“Well,
the celebrity I’m currently investigating has declined police protection while
in Lisbon, so we’ve had to monitor him through a series of stakeouts. I’m
practically living in this unmarked car.”

My
eyes widened. “You’re in the car now?”

“Yes,”
he grumbled. “We’ve been sitting here for six hours.”

I
fluffed my pillow and burrowed beneath the duvet. “So you’re working with a
partner?”

“Vasco
is with me.” Vasco helped us wrap presents for the orphanage. He was jovial
then, probably fun to hang out with.

“
Boa
noite
, Kristine,” Vasco called out cheerfully.

“So,
what are you doing now?” I pictured them hunkered down in the car with high
powered night vision binoculars.

“Playing
cards and eating
natas
,” Rafael revealed with a chuckle. “The guy rented
a house with glass walls, which makes it easier for us to monitor him. He’s
sleeping now.”

I
groaned, recalling how creamy those decadent little pastries were. “Be sure to
stock up on
natas
Friday morning
before
you come to the airport.”

Rafael
laughed. “I’ll send some back with Captain Anderson. They’ll be waiting for you
when you board the jet.”

“God,
I love you.” My arm looped around his pillow.

“I
love you too. Call me tomorrow.”

“I
will,” I promised. “
Boa noite
.”

“
Boa
noite, meu amor.
”

Sleep
found me curled around his pillow with the cell phone lodged beneath my head.

*
* * * *

A
well-muscled arm coiled around my waist, tugging me back against a granite chest.
“
Dobryy den’
.”

The
little glass shaker filled with nutmeg tumbled into the frothy cappuccino.
“Maxim?” Goose bumps pricked my skin when he nuzzled my neck.

“Release
her,” Jase growled.