Eternal Empire by Alec Nevala-Lee Page A

nearly two hundred million dollars. When it was launched later this month, it would be one of the largest yachts in the world.
    â€œThis building houses the foundation’s London staff,” Elena said, heading up the hall. “There are eight employees working with our group in Moscow. I’ll introduce you to the others in a moment.”
    The assistant halted at a room two doors down. A flick of the light switch revealed a windowless space lined with file cabinets and shelves packed with books and binders. “These are the archives,” Elena said. “It’s where the foundation keeps provenance information for art under investigation. You’ll want to study our previous projects to get a sense of what we need, then turn to the files on Fabergé to prepare a proposal for repatriation.”
    Maddy ran her eyes across the files. “Is there a catalog of materials available?”
    â€œYes. And everything is fully indexed. If you require any translations, you can photocopy the relevant pages and leave them for our service. They’ll be ready for you overnight.” Elena switched the light off. “If you want to take any materials with you, you’ll need to clear it with us beforehand.”
    â€œThat’s fine,” Maddy said. She saw a second file room across the hall. “And here?”
    â€œFiles relating to the foundation’s other activities,” Elena said, continuing up the corridor. “You don’t need to concern yourself with those.”
    Maddy nodded, but she did not look away just yet. On one of the shelves, there was a row of black binders, the location of which she quietly noted as she turned to join Elena at the end of the hallway.
    Elena opened the last door. Inside, there was a small office with a pedestal desk, two chairs, and a computer and phone. A window looked out on the walled garden beyond. “This is your workstation. Someone in the kitchen will call you about lunch. And a car will come around at six to take you home.”
    Maddy set her purse down on the desk. “When can I meet with Tarkovsky?”
    Elena gave her a glacial look. “Are any aspects of your assignment unclear?”
    Maddy, who had worked with women like this for much of her life, returned the stare without blinking. “Not at all.”
    â€œIn that case, you can begin. If Vasily wants to see you, I’ll be sure to let you know.” The assistant headed for the door. “I’ll check on your paperwork. Someone will be here to see you shortly.”
    Elena left the office, closing the door behind her. Once she was alone, Maddy exhaled and went to the window with its garden view, thinking back to the binders she had seen in the other room. “We need a sense of how the money goes in and out,” Powell had said. “This means travel records, payroll information, but especially the cashbook, a journal of disbursements and receipts—”
    Maddy had been doubtful. “But they wouldn’t just leave this lying around.”
    â€œNo,” Powell had said. “But even the most secretive enterprise has to maintain this information. Unless they’re incredibly careless, you won’t have access to the server. But if they’re like most businesses, hard copies will be printed and saved. They’ll be in Russian, so you’ll need to know exactly how they look. Once we know what we have to work with, we’ll figure out the rest.”
    As Maddy stood at the window now, remembering this conversation, she reminded herself to take things one step at a time. Her first task was to find out if the records she needed were really there. And then—
    The door of the office opened, breaking into her thoughts. Turning around, instead of the human resources employee she had expected to see, she found herself facing the man in the gray suit who had been watching earlier from the main house. “Please, sit down,” the