The Ghost Pattern Read Online Free Page A

aboard Universal Air flight XA233, with nonstop service to San Francisco. Today’s flight will be almost full, so please be considerate when stowing your carryon luggage. Your smaller bag should fit under the seat in front of you. From the flight deck, Captain Gibson and First Officer Klap welcome you aboard Flight XA233. Thank you for flying Universal Air; we appreciate your business.”
    She hung up with a wicked smile, happy with the pun she’d made by calling the bastard Klap instead of Klapov, in reference to the sexually transmitted disease. She couldn’t resist turning her head to see his reaction.
    The bastard didn’t seem to care, but Gibson frowned gently in her direction, like a disappointed parent. It made her sad. She pulled shit like that and it felt great for a second, then it ruined her life. Reckless, that’s what she was. Reckless in her choice of men, and reckless again in how she dealt with the consequences of her own mistakes.
    She stood and filled a few glasses with champagne, the traditional welcome for the first-class passengers.
    The woman in 1A had already taken her seat, tucked everything out of sight, and was reading a magazine. She accepted the champagne with a smile and a whispered thank you.
    “You’re welcome, Ms. Bernard,” she replied.
    Lila, like all flight attendants who worked the first-class cabin, was required to know the names of their passengers and greet them by name. She only had four on this trip, so it wasn’t that hard. This passenger’s name seemed strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Adeline Bernard…an actress, maybe? She definitely looked like one.
    She moved on to 2B, where one Darrell Maldonado was loud on his cell phone. She offered him the champagne and he took it without skipping a beat in his heated phone conversation. She touched his arm gently to get his attention, and said, “You will need to end that call in a minute, sir, and switch your phone to airplane mode.”
    He dismissed her with a hand gesture, as if she was a bother of sorts, a mosquito buzzing him, or some other form of pest. In his dialogue with the other party on the phone, he inserted casually, “Oh, no, I’m still here, I got time. I just got irritated by something, that’s all.”
    Asshole. Maybe there should be an airline just for them. They already had the right pilots for that.
    She heard her colleague announcing roll call and crosscheck, and then she started demonstrating the safety features of the Boeing 747-400. She did one more quick round in the first-class cabin, ensuring 2B was off his phone, then sat on the jump seat and prepared for takeoff.

...6
    ...Wednesday, April 27, 11:32AM Local Time (UTC+3:00 hours)
    ...Russian Ministry of Defense
    ...Moscow, Russia
     
     
     
    Vitaliy Myatlev ignored the loud growling in his stomach announcing the buildup of hyperacidity, and washed it down with his third shot of vodka for that morning. After providing a few seconds of deep satisfaction, the alcohol started burning what was left of his stomach lining, causing Myatlev to fidget uncomfortably and cuss under his breath.
    “ Tvoyu mat ,” he swore in his mother tongue, “this job is going to kill me.” He leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning his jacket and putting the palm of his hand on his bloated stomach, in an effort to soothe the pain. Maybe a smoke would help.
    He opened a new box of Arturo Fuente Opus X cigars, taking his time removing the clear packaging, and inhaling the scent released by the unsealing of the humidor. Then he chose one cigar, and carefully removed its wrapper, stopping at times to inhale the smell of the exquisite Dominican tobacco. That box of cigars had set him back thirty grand…he wasn’t going to let a stupid stomachache stop him from enjoying one.
    He clipped the tip with a golden cigar clipper engraved with his initials, a gift from an old business partner. Then he lit the cigar, taking his time, holding the tip above the open flame of