Dinastiya Tested // 3rd Book of the Takaryev Trilogy

Chapter 34

Ravil spoke only in Russian, and not to mention not very often, for the rest of the day. He briefly apologized for killing Nazar and unsettling Artem like he had, but past that, he only spoke when directly addressed. The Kremlin, particularly Saint Michael's castle, grew quiet. 

Too quiet. 

So quiet that Artem was growing terribly uneasy, and wondered what else could rear its ugly head and attempt to shatter their lives next.

.  .  .

"Let me kill Artem," Hilarion was busy entreating Paramon. "Let me kill him."

"Give me a legitimate reason," Paramon wasn't acceding. 

"If we kill Artem, we can kill Ravil," Hilarion pointed out. "That was our objective in the first place, wasn't it?" 

Paramon scowled from his spot at his desk, and stopped filing papers like he had been. "It was. But, Hilarion, perhaps you'd like to tell me just how you're going to get into the Kremlin, past security, past Mr. Alexandrov-" 

"That devil?" Hilarion's jaw dropped. "Leopold Alexandrov?" 

Glasses gleaming, Paramon nodded. "I'm afraid so. And honestly, Alexandrov is the least of your worries. Ravil's the one you should be concerned about." 

"So? We get to the Krem-" Hilarion was cut short. 

"'We?'" Paramon sneered. 

"I go to the Kremlin, I do all the work, I say the words, and Ravil shoots Artem, then I manipulate Ravil into shooting himself as well." Hilarion proposed a tentative plan. 

"You're going to have to get through Leopold first," Paramon rolled his brown eyes. "Good luck with that, Takaryev." 

"Considering my name is shared by two homosexuals, one of which is a bastard born out of wedlock-" Hilarion began. 

"And he's also your president," A smirk tugged at the corner of Paramon's lips. 

Hilarion grumbled, scowling, and shook his head. "Let me speak! Just call me Hilarion. Also, Leopold shouldn't be that difficult to get past. He's shorter than a Tolkien dwarf, and he's terrible at physical combat-" 

"But his aim is sure, and he's got access to all the Kremlin systems," Paramon argued with a smooth voice. "One principle you never quite learned to grasp was the principle of mind over brawn, my boy," 

"My name is Hilarion," he snarled through clenched teeth, his blue eyes flashing. "And-" 

"Your name won't be Hilarion for much longer if you're still planning on leaving the country," Paramon's eyes shone with perfect sarcasm and a desire to irritate. 

"Listen to me!" Hilarion, at this point, was getting frustrated. Much to Paramon's delight, indeed. "Listen to me, Paramon Abramov," 

"Pulling out the last name now?" Paramon scoffed, clicking a pen. 

"You let me go to the Kremlin, or let me hire someone to go to the Kremlin. I take out Alexandrov, get Artem and Ravil isolated, and say the words. I get Ravil to shoot Artem, then himself. Then I leave the Kremlin, fly to Finland or America or someplace, and change my name." Hilarion restated his plan. 

"Get me a final game plan, and make sure that this is a job you can actually finish," Paramon ordered. "I will not have any more thwarted executions on my hands, yours, or on the hands of the FSB in general." 

"Yes, sir," Hilarion said, satisfied at finally getting what he wanted all along. "Spasibo."