by Tobi Doyle
Adrianna shook her head. “Later.”
“Adrianna, let her clean your wounds before we go.” I looked over to Dima. “How much time do we have?”
“Fifteen minutes,” he said.
“Fine.” Adrianna took her sister’s hand and led her into our bathroom. The girls emerged five minutes later. Adrianna wore jeans, sneakers, a long sleeve t-shirt, and her hair in a long braid down her back. She was ready to fight. And that turned my stomach.
She placed her hand on my chest. “I promise I won’t open the door.” She rolled up on her toes and kissed me gently. “I’m worried about you, too. You need to be focused.”
“As soon as I walk out the door my only concern will be for the plan.” My voice was cold and determined but she smiled.
“Good.” She hugged me close and sniffed. “You always smell so good.”
“He should smell like trunk space.” Dima watched Elena handle the knives in the kitchen, placing several into the pocket of her hoodie. “You really know how to use those?”
She nodded once. “I don’t think Thor would appreciate a demonstration in his granite and glass home.”
Dima smiled. “I’ve got a place you can practice.”
“Knife throwing or gelding? Because honestly I’m game for both.”
Dima’s head tipped back and he laughed. He cocked his chin at her. “We’ll start with the knife throwing and see how things go.”
“It’s a deal.” Elena’s face hardened. “Be safe tonight, okay? If it feels off, just keep driving.”
Dima nodded once. “I’ll consider that my plan D.”
“You have plans A through C already?” Elena sounded piqued and she leaned against the counter.
“Yes.” He cocked his head. “Don’t you?”
She shook her head once. “You’ll have to teach me.”
“I would be happy to.” Dima’s voice was low, his accent more pronounced.
Fuck, was Dima flirting with my sister-in-law? I cleared my throat. Stop, my eyes said.
Relax, his eyes said back to me. He crossed the room to Adrianna and held her shoulders. “Be safe.” He kissed her cheeks.
She hugged him briefly. “You, too.”
I turned her to face me and tipped her chin. “I will text or call you before I knock on the door.”
“You will text me as soon as you’re done with his uncle. And then you’ll text me after the other bit.” She slid her eyes to Elena, who was not protected by spousal immunity. “And you’ll text me before you knock on the door.”
“Yes, dear.” I kissed her then, sweet and sentimental. I would survive and hold her again. Tonight was a test to see how strong she was and if she could handle me and my life. She’d survived so much, I had faith.
We were kismet.
Chapter Thirty-Four
In the garage, we checked our weapons and hooked gas masks to our belts. Daniel laid down in Dima’s back seat, so passing cars would be less likely to notice the tied-up person with a black fabric bag over his head.
I left the garage first in the van with new license plates and no signs and headed to Lev’s neighborhood. Vanya had already set up his sniper rifle and texted he was ready. Dima drove toward his uncle’s house, into enemy territory.
My van carried two grenade launchers with tear gas grenades, already loaded. I’d provide the distraction once Dima was close to Lev, but before Daniel was out of the car. Dima believed he could force Lev to come outside. He’d tell him Adrianna was too injured to walk, even though it was actually Daniel in disguise. Also, Lev would appreciate Dima’s insistence that no evidence be tracked inside his home.
Plan B entailed a total bombing of the mansion.
Plan C was to call the fire department and police.
Apparently, plan D was to continue driving.
I parked across the street of Lev’s home. He had an eight-foot high stucco wall surrounding the mansion. I texted Vanya: Here
He responded by shining a red laser light on my dashboard. Crawling into the back of the van, I readied two grenade launchers. I had nine regular grenades for plan B.
The red laser beam caught my attention. Vanya letting me know Dima was driving into the compound.
I slid the van door open several inches and aimed the grenade launcher at the second story window that should be the master bathroom and fixed the sights. I closed the door, stopping before it latched, to hide. I would wait until Vanya signaled twice before firing.
Thirty seconds passed and I continued to wait with my finger on the trigger. A strange tinkling sound came from outside and I realized it was the sound of an animal collar with tags. If I was lucky, it would be a lone dog or cat. Less lucky would be a neighbor walking a dog who could identify me later. Worse would be one of Lev’s guards with a dog, ruining our surprise.
I watched the dashboard for Vanya’s signal. The tinkling was closer, and I could hear sniffing.
A shadow passed by the small crack in the door.
The dashboard lit, two quick beams of light.
I slid the door open, and pulled the trigger.
The dog leapt on me. The man behind him was Lev’s henchman. The dog chewed on my arm like it was a brisket in need of tenderizing.
“Release,” I said in Russian. The dog released my arm.
“Home,” I said in Russian as I pulled the knife from my side and threw it at the guard. I could see the grenade had gone high and smoke poured from Lev’s roof.
He blocked the knife, but it gave me the time to punch him in the face, breaking his nose. I pulled him fully into the van, slit his throat with my spare knife, picked up the second grenade launcher, aimed at the house and fired.
I closed the van door, slid into the front seat and drove toward Dima and Daniel. Lev’s gates were open and I parked in the driveway behind Dima’s car. Four guards lay motionless on the lawn.
Dima came out of the house, wearing a gas mask, black smoke following him.
“Help me get the bodies inside,” he said.
I pulled the van close, slid my mask on, sealing it. Dima and I carried the guards, dropping them on the living room floor.
“I’ve got one in the van,” I said to Dima. On the second trip, I hauled the guard from my van, and Dima and Daniel took the remaining men from the lawn.
Dima pulled a bottle of lighter fluid out of his pocket and doused the men.
Daniel ran out and returned with the two regular grenades. He handed me one.
“Just pull the pin, right?” Daniel asked me.
“Wait until we are closer to the door.”
Dima took the grenade from Daniel and pushed him outside. “Take the van. Clean it and return it to the warehouse. Switch it with one of mine. Park it in the garage and wait for us to return. Stay in the garage, make sure no one uses the elevator to get to the girls.”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel nodded to me and left.
We stood at the door. Sirens were closer. We pulled the grenade pins, tossed them in the house and ran to Dima’s car.
Vanya called as soon as we cleared the gates.
“All good?”
“Yes.” I tore off my mask and looked at Dima. “I’m surprised the fire and police didn’t make it to the house already.”
Dima grinned. “That would be the accident on fourth. Van versus city bus.” He lifted a shoulder. “Or the fire at the tire factory.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or maybe, Lev’s boat in the marina exploding.”
“Nicely done,” I said.
Dima focused on the road. “Text your wife. She will worry.”
I texted Adrianna. Traffic is ridiculous. I’ll be a little late for dinner. Save dessert for me.
She replied with a kissing emoji.
I smiled.
“What?” Dima asked.
“All good.”
“Call Robertson. Tell him to meet us at the campaign headquarters.” He handed me his phone.
I pulled up his contacts and connected the call.
�
�Hello?”
“Mr. Robertson, this is an associate of Lev Volkov. We need to meet at your campaign headquarters tonight,” I said.
“Fifteen minutes,” Dima said.
“In fifteen minutes,” I said.
“I don’t know any Lev Volkov,” Robertson said and the confusion seemed sincere. Fucking politician, able to lie with no signs of distress.
Dima overheard him. “Then we will come to his home, meet his wife. His choice.”
Robertson cleared his throat. “I don’t know who Lev is, but I will have my security call the police if you turn up at my home you will be escorted off the premises.”
Dima growled.
I put the phone on speaker.
“Then the video of your son causing the Kolchak’s fatal accident will be released to every media outlet. Is that what you want?”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Robertson’s reply shocked us both.
I stared at the phone for a moment.
Dima sneered.
“My son?” he repeated. Robertson’s voice trailed off as the seriousness of the situation seemed to be dawning on him. “Are you sure?”
“It was his car on the video taken from a traffic camera, which means the police have been paid off to hide the evidence,” I said.
“Come to the house.” Robertson ended the call.
Dima turned the car towards Robertson home in Nob Hill. “He didn’t know.” Dima’s voice held no recrimination.
“Politicians are excellent actors. I admit he sounded sincere.”
“Text Daniel, tell him it was the son, not Robertson. What do we know about him?” Dima checked his mirrors, maintaining the speed limit, although I wanted to speed.
I’d researched the Robertson family the night Adrianna shared the video with me. “The son is the campaign manager. Graduated from Santa Clara University, no honors. Worked for a couple of tech firms. He started law school, but dropped out. There’s six months missing from his work history. My guess is substance abuse and recovery. His father hired him and he slowly worked his way up to campaign manager.”
“His father gave him a job. Any arrests?”
“None. He could have been paying Herndon off for a long time.”
Dima nodded. “Makes sense. If Robertson never knew about the video, it will be interesting to see what he wants to do with it now.”
“I don’t care what he wants. This all ends tonight. The threats against Adrianna end, or I will end him.” I opened the glove compartment and pulled out two knives and sheathed them on my belt.
“Where are your knives?” Dima asked.
“In the van.”
“Daniel will destroy them unless you call.”
“They were my favorites, but it is better they are disposed of.” I shifted in my seat. “Why didn’t you tell me about your other planned distractions?”
Dima lifted a shoulder and glanced my way. “A man requested some tactical help. I suggested he use a van full of manikins to create the accident with an empty bus and promised I would give him the time that would be most beneficial. I texted him earlier. The accident would appear bad, and then it should have blocked the entire intersection. The man would use the delay in police to accomplish his real goal.”
“And you trust this man?”
Dima chuckled darkly. “I do not believe trust is the correct word. He is easily intimidated and a useful tool at times. He is under the misconception that I have helped him and he owes me a favor.” Dima raised an eyebrow. “He will be waiting for me to collect.”
I smirked. “Prolonged anxiety… You do have sadistic tendencies.”
Dima’s face relaxed. “A year ago I would have agreed with you, but lately I find pain and fear don’t give me the same release.”
The admission loosened my muscles. Dima had changed, outgrowing his darkness, too.
“I fear I am becoming civilized. This is unfortunate timing since I am now head of the family.”
“You were never sadistic,” I assured him. “You were used as a tool, taught there was only one way to respond. It is good you are changing.”
“Did Adrianna take your balls as an wedding gift?” Dima clucked his tongue. “This is sad. Married for less than a week and already you are talking about feelings.”
I waved him off. “This is true. What is your plan if Robertson is innocent of his son’s actions?”
“It ends tonight.” Dima’s voice had a razor sharp edge.
A security guard greeted us at Robertson’s front door. “Weapons?”
“Yes, thank you. I prefer a .45 caliber but my friend favors nine mil.” Dima spoke with heavily accented Russian.
City Councilman and Senatorial candidate Robertson stepped into the hallway. “I would prefer to keep things polite. Since I have no idea who you are or why you are here, if you wish to speak with me, you will need to hand over any and all weapons.”
Dima cocked his head. “I am Dimitry Volkov, nephew of Lev Volkov, head of Bratva in this city. I am here to discuss a truce with you and the wife of my friend, Alexei Bykov, owner of Konstantin’s restaurant. We are here for discussion only.” He held his hands out and flicked his gaze to the guard. “But I refuse to be handled. Are we clear?”
The guard swallowed.
Robertson stepped closer, and studied my face. “We’ve met, at the Women’s Shelter charity dinner.”
“We have.” I kept my accent light.
“Let’s go to my office. Edward, please give us privacy.”
“Certainly, sir.” Edward looked relieved.
Robertson turned on his heel and walked a few feet, opened a door and waved us in.
Dima walked in first. The room was small, overcrowded with a large desk, two wooden chairs and a small couch perched dangerously close to the fireplace. Although, in California it was doubtful he was actually allowed to use the fireplace.
I sat in the wooden chair.
Robertson sat behind the desk.
Dima stood.
“You say you want a truce? I have to tell you that you can’t blackmail me into ignoring your family’s criminal activities.” Robertson rolled his shoulders back but he gaze flickered from Dima to me.
“Your son ran a red light, clipped the edge of a minivan which then tumbled across the intersection and down the hill resulting in the death of the mother and infant. This was recorded by traffic camera.” Dima’s accent grew thicker, clearly to intimidate Robertson that he was not part of his ‘in-crowd’ nor did he want to be. “Someone made the video disappear from the police recordings. However, Gregory Herndon–”
Roberts eyes widened.
“Yes, that Gregory Herndon, had a copy of the video. I assumed he was blackmailing you, but perhaps he was blackmailing your son.”
“No…” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a laptop.
I’d hoped it was vodka, Dima’s eyes said to me.
“Your laptop could be compromised,” I said to Robertson.
He slapped the lid down. He cursed and leaned back in his chair, covering his face with his hands. “I wanted to see if he’d used campaign funds.”
Dima leaned against the desk. “Herndon seemed to collect favors rather than money. I would guess that your son promised him a favor, and this does not matter anymore because Herndon is gone. However, since Herndon’s disappearance the police and others have been harassing my friend’s wife. This man is like my brother. This harassment ends tonight.”
“I don’t know who–” Robertson began.
“This is not my problem,” Dima said.
“What do you want?” Robertson asked.
“Your son needs to be held accountable, yes?” Dima posed it as a question, but it was a test.
Robertson nodded and closed his eyes. “I don’t know how to… if there’s no evidence.” He looked at Dima and shame turned his face into a haunted mask of sorrow. “I know you have no reason to believe I’m not involved. I’m not naive. I know people do f
avors for me, but Moe managed that part of the campaign. I thought…” He sat taller. “He’s had issues in the past. I thought he’d outgrown them, but he hid them from me.” He looked at me. “He won’t admit to the accident. Not if he’s using again. Not if he thought he could get away with it. He’ll continue to deny everything.”
“He will not be able to deny it any longer,” Dima said. “The video will be released tonight.”
“Then why are you here?” Robertson asked.
“Because you need to understand this is the end. Your son will take responsibility. There will be no revenge taken for the release of the video. Nor will the Bratva seek compensation for favors provided to your son. Those responsible for hiding the evidence, for harassing Mrs. Bykov, including your son will be held accountable.”
Robertson eyes narrowed. “All, including your associates?”
“All.” Dima flicked his gaze to me. “We shake on agreement. This ends tonight. Guilty parties will answer for their actions. But you, me, and the Bykov’s are done with this.” He held out his hand.
Robertson stood and extended his hand.
Dima hesitated. “You understand, your son will go to jail.”
“I understand. I’ll handle him.” He reached for Dima’s hand and shook. Three pumps. Careful. Like there was a bomb attached. He dropped his hand. “I am sorry my son caused your family trouble.”
“Apology accepted, however, your son took the life of a woman and baby and splintered a family, creating chaos. If he tries to disappear rather than take responsibility, I will find him.”
Robertson nodded once. “I understand and know what I have to do.”
Dima walked to the door and opened it. The guard stood across the hallway, close but not close enough to eavesdrop. “Goodbye, Mr. Robertson.”
“Good evening Mr. Bykov, Mr. Volkov.”
The guard followed us down the hall and closed the door behind us.
Dima flexed his hands as we walked toward the door, as if he was expending energy. That tightly coiled energy that made him feel like a larger presence. “I think he is a good man.”
“His next actions will determine if you are correct.” I texted Adrianna. Upload. On my way home.