He turned to a man sitting next to him in his study and said with a strong Russian accent, " If you where a stranger or an enemy I would cut off both your hands and keep them on my mantle to warn all who enter my home what I do to thieves. Yet since you are my friend I give you this as a warning do it again, and we are enemies. You know where the door is Devon, you may leave now." The Russian then got up and walked down a long corridor to his room and he sat on his bed in contemplation. He was not a bad man, nor did he want to threaten his friend, but in a place such as this where lawlessness prevails, he as the ruler of the Provence must keep order by any means nessicary. Times like these are harsh and the winds bring a dark omen on the horizon. The Russian retired for the evening with ill thoughts in his mind.
"Ivan, IVAN, IIIIVVVAAAAAN!" Screams a woman, then the Russian wakes. Drenched in sweat with a sad look on his face he gets out of bed gets dressed and heads into town completely ignoring the breakfast his cook had placed on the table. Arriving into town Ivan heads into the bank where he meets with an American man named David Lockheart. "Ivan just the man I have been wanting to see." "David I had another dream about Anastasia again..." "Ivan, we need to talk, not here someplace private, I'll send details later, but for now you must go." So Ivan picks up his coat and leaves.
To be continued.........
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