09-14-2016, 05:42 PM
It wasn't unusual for contracts for Pervaya Iiniya Securities to come with requirements that certain employees receive them. Past clients tended to prefer using the same operators. The contract from Mr Talanov was received without complaint on White's part. The man had, unwittingly, set White on a most fulfilling hunt; Scion Marveet's mistake of sending that hit team after Talanov, a team that had blundered onto White and Spectra instead.
The Talanov family was an old one; they had survived the rule of Ivan the Terrible and his purges of the nobility. They had flourished under the Romanov's rule. And they had suffered under the opening days of the Soviet Union, but regained its footing and began regrowing their influence in the latter-days of the USSR, emerging into the post Soviet era as a once-more successful organization.
The modern Talanov family drew its wealth, openly, from coal and, more importantly, coke production, a coal residue widely used in the production of steel. In recent years, they have begun to form an unofficial monopoly on the production of coal and coke in the CCD.
Mr Talanov's daughter, Nadejda Talanov, had spent time in White's company before. Namely, the short and quiet ride from the den of her kidnappers, to a waiting private jet to whisk her off to the family's Italian estate. That had been only nine months ago, although it felt like far longer. And those nine months had seen quite a bit of growth in the young Talanov princess.
It was her public return to Moscow, although she had been active on the social circuit DVII within weeks of her rescue. Although technically her father had contracted a full security detail, White had been forced to take the brunt of the young woman's day-to-day schedule himself; on her own demand. If she were to be seen in public with a bodyguard, it would be the one most likely to piss her family's enemies off.
What could he say, she had good taste.
They arrived at the Ritz Carlton hotel in one of the company's chartered luxury vehicles, and White emerged first, rounding the car to hold open Nadejda's door for her. A perfectly fitted black suit, bespoke cuffs in a 'surgeon' style. A simple term to mean, the suit sleeves could be unbuttoned and rolled, implying the suit wearer was one prone to do labor. A subtle hint of White's role as security, not mere party-goer.
Matching black vest and dark grey tie over a white silk shirt. Of course, under that was one of his expensive ballistic vests. And beneath the jacket, a shoulder-holstered pistol. Without that, he always felt a little naked. A simple grey trench and scarf, made of photography-fouling fabric to ward off the chill.
Nadejda stepped from the vehicle, wrapped in a fine full length red jacket, which concealed a pleasantly simple red cocktail dress, light on accessories. Naturally, once at the party the pair went their separate ways; it was her opportunity to begin bringing the Talanov name and presence back to DI social circles, and the likelihood of kidnappers and assassins in the middle of a fancy-pants shindig, even with someone as bull-handed as Scion could be. The man thought himself untouchable.
As was always the case at such fanciful events, White made for a captivating contrast. Perhaps at first glance, he fit right in. Well dressed, well carried. A second glance revealed the eyes, the way he would watch the room, a confidence founded on self assurance and experience, not wealth and daddy-granted power.
He was, of course, content to ride the whole trying evening through ghosting in Nadejda's shadow. At least until something worthy of his attention came up, of course.
The Talanov family was an old one; they had survived the rule of Ivan the Terrible and his purges of the nobility. They had flourished under the Romanov's rule. And they had suffered under the opening days of the Soviet Union, but regained its footing and began regrowing their influence in the latter-days of the USSR, emerging into the post Soviet era as a once-more successful organization.
The modern Talanov family drew its wealth, openly, from coal and, more importantly, coke production, a coal residue widely used in the production of steel. In recent years, they have begun to form an unofficial monopoly on the production of coal and coke in the CCD.
Mr Talanov's daughter, Nadejda Talanov, had spent time in White's company before. Namely, the short and quiet ride from the den of her kidnappers, to a waiting private jet to whisk her off to the family's Italian estate. That had been only nine months ago, although it felt like far longer. And those nine months had seen quite a bit of growth in the young Talanov princess.
It was her public return to Moscow, although she had been active on the social circuit DVII within weeks of her rescue. Although technically her father had contracted a full security detail, White had been forced to take the brunt of the young woman's day-to-day schedule himself; on her own demand. If she were to be seen in public with a bodyguard, it would be the one most likely to piss her family's enemies off.
What could he say, she had good taste.
They arrived at the Ritz Carlton hotel in one of the company's chartered luxury vehicles, and White emerged first, rounding the car to hold open Nadejda's door for her. A perfectly fitted black suit, bespoke cuffs in a 'surgeon' style. A simple term to mean, the suit sleeves could be unbuttoned and rolled, implying the suit wearer was one prone to do labor. A subtle hint of White's role as security, not mere party-goer.
Matching black vest and dark grey tie over a white silk shirt. Of course, under that was one of his expensive ballistic vests. And beneath the jacket, a shoulder-holstered pistol. Without that, he always felt a little naked. A simple grey trench and scarf, made of photography-fouling fabric to ward off the chill.
Nadejda stepped from the vehicle, wrapped in a fine full length red jacket, which concealed a pleasantly simple red cocktail dress, light on accessories. Naturally, once at the party the pair went their separate ways; it was her opportunity to begin bringing the Talanov name and presence back to DI social circles, and the likelihood of kidnappers and assassins in the middle of a fancy-pants shindig, even with someone as bull-handed as Scion could be. The man thought himself untouchable.
As was always the case at such fanciful events, White made for a captivating contrast. Perhaps at first glance, he fit right in. Well dressed, well carried. A second glance revealed the eyes, the way he would watch the room, a confidence founded on self assurance and experience, not wealth and daddy-granted power.
He was, of course, content to ride the whole trying evening through ghosting in Nadejda's shadow. At least until something worthy of his attention came up, of course.