Back Dishonorable Intentions Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Stuart Woods
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. Author’s Note
  65. About the Author

“I’ve just e-mailed you a clip from a press conference with the Russian ambassador a few minutes ago.” She hung up.

Stone got out his iPhone, found the e-mail, and he and Gala watched the press conference. They were dumbfounded. “How did he do that?” Stone asked.

“He sometimes brags about his friendship with Viktor Petrov,” she said. “Maybe he wasn’t lying.”

Geoffrey announced that Dame Felicity was on the line.

“Hello?”

“I’m told the Russian ambassador to the United States has just held a rather unusual press conference.”

“Gala and I have just watched it, and we are very nearly speechless.”

“My people in Moscow actually went to the Russian prosecutor’s office and viewed the arrest warrant. It had not been withdrawn.”

“I wish I could explain it. Gala says Tirov has bragged about his friendship with Petrov.”

“My information was that they were estranged. I will correct the record. See you at the weekend?”

“Of course.” Stone hung up.

“I wonder what Tirov did for Petrov?” Gala asked. “There must have been something.”

“I’d certainly like to know,” Stone said.

—

In Los Angeles, Howard Fine watched a replay of the press conference in stunned silence. He was going to have to start cultivating Boris Tirov, he reckoned.

A meeting was convened at Stalwart Studios, which included the CEO, the head of production, and the head of publicity. They watched the tape in silence, then the CEO said, “Anybody have any doubt what our new position on Tirov’s contract is?”

Heads were shaken.

“Let’s find Boris a bigger bungalow than we promised,” the CEO said, and the meeting broke up.

At Spago Beverly Hills, Boris Tirov held court at a center table in the garden. Photographs were taken by an L.A. Times photographer and those of the trade publications.

Across the garden, the film critic James Towbin switched seats with a companion so that his back was to Boris Tirov.

“I am so very glad that I sent the Tirov report to the editor before it ran,” he said ruefully. “Otherwise, I’d be looking for a new job.”

33

The studio’s Boeing Business Jet, a corporate version of the 737, took off from Van Nuys Airport with nearly a full load, which included a digital film crew of three, two still photographers, the studio’s CEO and head of publicity, three assistant publicists, a Russian translator, the stars of the film, Rod Rambeau and Nathalie Dumont, their personal assistants, her makeup artist and hairdresser, and her personal publicist, Howard Fine, in addition to the airplane’s crew, a relief pilot, three flight attendants, and enough luggage to support a traveling circus. It would be a nonstop flight of some nine hours, with a stiff tailwind, to Moscow Ostafyevo Airport.