Svein Lombroso said unpleasantly. “I could go out and fuck everything up by the numbers myself without paying you and the rest of the Guard such obscene amounts of money! Hell, I could probably even have gotten Guernicke killed without you, if I’d really tried!” “Would you rather I’d let the bastards walk away after taking out Braddock’s entire régiment?” General Olivier Yardley’s tone was rather pointed, Lombroso thought. Which probably had something to do with the fact that she knew she was irreplaceable…at least for now. “It was a no-win situation from the outset, Mister President. Once they got in and had Guernicke in their possession, we either gave them what they wanted, or we lost her. And you told me not to give them what they wanted.” She shrugged. “So I didn’t.” “Goddamn it!” Lombroso snarled. “This makes what happened last month look like a frigging picnic! And when Trifecta’s home office hears about this…!” “We didn’t move in until Frolov personally okayed it,”
