by A. E. King
“Security in front of the bakery,” I warn him.
He ducks behind a group of mothers walking their children to school. My heart bleeds, knowing how their day will end.
“A block ahead there’s another group of security officers standing outside the bank. Cross the street now.”
Dimitri crosses the street, and I hold my breath as he walks past security with few people to obscure him. They’re laughing about something and don’t notice him.
When Dimitri makes it to the back door of the mistresses’ home, I breathe a sigh of relief. He knocks, and a security guard answers.
“I got a call about a backed-up toilet.” Dimitri sounds bored.
“I didn’t get authorization,” the guard says. “I’ll check again.”
The man turns his back. Dimitri whispers, “Is there anyone else in the hall?”
“No,” I answer
Dimitri shoots the guard, and I clasp my hand over my mouth to stop my scream as the man crumples to the ground. Dimitri closes the door behind him and hides the guard in a closet. Blood streaks across the floor. Someone will surely notice.
Dimitri makes his way up the stairs, occasionally nodding at women he passes in the hall. “How many people are in the room?” He whispers to me.
“Bleen!” I haven’t been watching. I look at the monitor to the business hall. The room is full of people I didn’t catalog.
“Yulia?” Dimitri whispers again.
“I’m counting,” I say frantically. “I was watching you and Gosha. I missed them.”
“Take a deep breath,” Dimitri reminds me. “Keep a level head.”
I count people on the monitor. “There are twenty people in the hall and a group of ten standing outside.”
“Good, now catalog them,” he whispers. “I can take care of myself from here.”
I pull up the faces, read the list of names, and check them off on my list. The meeting starts in thirty minutes, and close to half of the attendees are present.
They keep coming. I check the other screens. Gosha and Kostya have red faces and angry body language. I check Dimitri’s location, and finally, the camera’s in my location. Everything looks clear.
“Three more people just arrived,” Dimitri tells me.
I check them off my list.
“We’re at fifty.” I exhale. “It looks like Gosha was right. Everyone will be in their seats when the meeting starts.”
“Not everyone,” Dimitri mutters. “The men of the hour will be very, very tardy.”
There is silence for a moment as my eyes toggle back and forth between the three screens. Zhenya’s knitting needles click anxiously against each other, making my nerves even more on edge.
“Here comes another group,” Dimitri says.
“The cousins from Novosibirsk. Fifty-five.” The tension in my chest increases the closer we get to the magic number of sixty-three.
“How’s Gosha doing?” Dimitri asks.
I turn the volume back up on Gosha’s feed, and my heart stops. “There’s no sound.” My voice quakes, and my heart stops.
“They’re still arguing.” I’m panicking. “But it’s the same scene!”
I hear a noise like the creaking of stairs and search Dimitri’s monitors, trying to see if someone is coming.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Dimitri.
“Hear what?” he says. “I don’t hear anything.”
I tap on the section of images that show this house and notice the back door open. I look frantically across the images and see the door to my room open at the same time as I hear it behind me.
Zhenya screams.
“Yulia, what was that?” Dimitri’s voice echoes through the room, and I push a button to send his feed directly into my earpiece.
“Yes, who was that, Yulia?” Kostya’s evil eyes peer at me over the top of his gun.
Chapter 45
Kostya and Gosha are still arguing on my monitor as I realize my foolishness.
“Fine work on your prism, Kostya.” I smile at him and avoid looking at the weapon leaning against the desk. Why didn’t I grab it?
“So you’re behind all this?” he barks.
“Well, I told you I wanted to get rid of the old guard.” I point to the monitor full of his uncles and cousins. Kostya’s father, whose head droops to the side, is wheeled into the room. “He looks pretty old to me.”
My heart pounds as I force false bravado, hoping it will keep me alive a little bit longer. Zhenya looks toward the gun and clutches her knitting needle like a knife. I need to buy time so Dimitri and Gosha can finish. I need Zhenya safe.
“What about our understanding? You lying suka.” He circles me menacingly. Zhenya looks desperate.
“You failed to mention that your brother looks like Adonis and actually believes in hygiene. I decided to upgrade.”
Kostya’s face goes red.
“Yulia, stop it. He’s unstable. You’ll just push him to violence faster.” Dima’s panicking in my ear. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
“No. Stay where you are,” I shout to Dima. “I came here with a mission to accomplish, and I’m not about to let you mess it up.”
I pray that Dimitri stays put. He lets out a strangled cry, like a wounded animal. It doesn’t bolster my courage.
“What did you do with your brother?” I ask, sounding mildly interested.
“Let’s just say he won’t be quite as pretty once my guards finish with him.” Kostya sneers. “The minute I heard his ridiculous demands, I knew there was something amiss. The idea of his mother lying next to our father? That’s the last place he would want her bones. Luckily, I had my crew on standby.”
Kostya stands like a cougar, ready to pounce but enjoying watching his prey. Zhenya shifts in her chair like she’s preparing to fight, and I’m terrified of what will happen to her if she does.
“Well, now that I know there’s hope for our dear Gosha, I’ll be sure to call in help,” I say sweetly, hoping Dimitri picks up on my meaning.
Fortunately, he does. “I’ll get Gosha and then detonate. Stay alive.”
“He’s not worth saving,” Kostya snarls.
“Every friend is worth saving, and I have the control here,” I shout, knowing I’m not making sense but hoping Dima follows my lead. I can’t sacrifice Gosha any more than I can sacrifice the other innocents.
“No more, Kostya,” I growl. “No more corruption, innocent deaths, or betrayal. It’s done. I’m done with it all.”
Dima’s voice comes through my ear. “I love you. I’m coming. Keep him talking.” I force myself not to look at Dima’s monitor as he shouts down the hallways to the women. “Get to the tunnels and out of the city. You two, run to the school, get the kids out. The meeting’s going badly, and it will be a bloodbath.” I hear cries and scuffling.
“I’ve dreamed of your screams for a long time.” Kostya sneers at me, his eyes darting between Zhenya and me as he debates who to kill first.
I hear gunfire in my earpiece and try to block it out. I just sent Dima into danger, and I don’t even know if Gosha is still alive. Everything is unraveling.
“Isn’t this fun?” Kostya takes a step closer. “The old wench is sweating, and you’re trembling with anticipation.”
“Do it!” I scream.
Zhenya flings herself at Kostya, stabbing her needle into his shoulder. He screams and flings her against the wall then points his gun at her. I reach for my weapon and pull the trigger. Bullets fly haphazardly across the room. Zhenya screams and drops to the ground. What have I done?
Zhenya’s sobs in the corner tell me she’s still alive.
“Yulia!” Dima screams. “Yulia!”
I can’t focus on him. I have to make sure Kostya doesn’t kill Zhenya.
“Kostya!” I yell. He turns his gun toward me, and I keep mine trained on him.
“It looks like no one bothered to teach you how to use that thing.” He’s breathing hard
.
“It doesn’t require much skill.” How long can we stand here like this? Me and him, locked in this deadly game of wits. His smile tells me I can’t match his bloodlust.
He pulls the trigger, and fire sears through my arm. I drop the gun and wait for the next shot. Instead, he lunges for me.
He rolls on top of me, pressing his gun across my chest and pinning me to the floor.
He grins with his yellow teeth and reeking breath. “You’ll pay for this, you suka!” He spits in my face and then licks me from my cheek to my ear before biting my ear so hard it bleeds. I scream in pain, and Kostya laughs. “My favorite flavor.”
Dimitri’s screams mix with mine until I can’t tell what anyone is saying. Kostya slaps me so hard my ears ring. He holds me down with one hand and reaches the other toward his belt. I muster every ounce of strength I have to shove the barrel of his gun up into his head. I hit him, and he falters for just a moment but doesn’t lose his grip on the weapon.
He hits me over the head with the butt of the gun, and I fall back against the floor, my head splitting with pain. He stands, raising the gun over his head and bringing it down into my rib cage.
Kostya isn’t here for a quick kill. He will torture and hurt me as long as it gives him power. I stop fighting and start to cry.
“No weakness!” He kicks me.
I place my hands over my head, trying to protect my face from his blows. Gunshots fill the air and I scream, knowing this is the end.
Kostya falls lifeless on top of me.
Zhenya’s hands are shaking as she looks at what she’s done. She tosses the gun away. “Oh, God, forgive me! Forgive me, God.” She sobs hysterically.
Dimitri cries in my ear. “Yulia, please no.”
“Kostya is dead,” I tell him, and he lets out a strangled moan.
“I have Gosha. He’s hurt. I’m driving to you now. Yulia, you have to detonate. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to have to do it.”
I push Kostya off of me and drag myself to the screen, checking for the empty school. Dimitri feeds me the backup code. I press each button and join Zhenya in her prayer. “Oh, God, please forgive me.”
Chapter 46
Dima bursts through the doors. He buries his face into my hair, his frame quaking.
“Get Zhenya,” I whisper weakly.
He stands and rips his shirt to place a tourniquet above her gunshot wound and then picks her up and carries her down the stairs. I try to move, but my body is slow and uncooperative.
I make my way toward the door. A moment later, Dima returns and scoops me into his arms, still shaking, still moving too fast. I groan in pain as he jogs down the stairs. He puts me into the car, runs to the driver’s side, and puts the vehicle in motion. We speed away just as the explosion hits. I cover my ears, trying to block the noise. It shakes me to the core. And it’s not just the cacophony. It’s the realization of what I’ve done. One family is gone, with six more to go. I did it. I lit the match that will hopefully burn down the entire Organizatsaya and eventually free my people.
I don’t look back. I don’t want to see any of it. I have to look forward, even if thoughts of the future make my stomach churn.
Gosha is bloody and battered, lost in grief. Zhenya is covered in blood. Dima’s stitches have torn, and blood soaks through his shirt. I slump against the side of the car as we drive away from the carnage we created.
So this is what it feels like to win a battle? I hope the war is worth it. Because otherwise, the price was far too high.
Dimitri drives down dirt roads with reckless abandon. The car occasionally swerves abruptly. We’re all still on high alert. Adrenaline pumps through me, keeping the pain at bay.
“How did you get away?” I ask Gosha.
“Kostya was slightly smarter than I thought, but still a coward. He called for his guards, I fought them, and then I barricaded myself in his kitchen while we had a good old-fashioned shoot-out.”
“Dima.” I grab his arm, suddenly realizing our mistake. “We left Kostya’s body.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Dimitri grimaces, clutching the steering wheel. Then he speaks to the car. “Get me radio frequency 1020.”
“Radio?” I ask. Radio hasn’t been used since the war.
“We’re not connected to the Peredacha. Someone’s listening on the other end.” Dimitri’s voice is strained, but he speaks loudly and clearly. “Delivering the package. Late and damaged. Heading north from number five.”
“What was that?” I ask. But he ignores me. He repeats his message three times before falling into silence.
The farther we get from the blast without anyone chasing us, the more my heart rate slows.
“We need to get them to a hospital,” I tell Dimitri. “Zhenya’s too pale.”
“She’ll be fine.” The worry in his eyes betrays him.
“Don’t stop, Dima,” Zhenya whispers hoarsely.
“I won’t.” His voice cracks.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“North.”
“Dima!” I shout at him. “Tell me what’s going on.” He’s scaring me. Shouldn’t we feel safer now? He looks more tense.
“I’m doing what I should have done years ago!” he shouts back. “Now stop talking. I have to watch for signs.”
Zhenya’s hand reaches from the backseat to rub my shoulder, and I hear her wince in pain as she moves.
We speed through country roads and across farmlands as Dimitri searches.
“Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll help,” I try.
“I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’m just looking.” He reverts back to silence.
I gaze out the window, staring at the farmlands, the trees, the tractors. I look for something and nothing at the same time.
“That’s it!” he shouts, slamming on the brakes. Zhenya and I scream. Gosha curses from the backseat.
“It’s a pile of rocks!” I shout at him.
He turns off on the dirt road onto a set of tracks worn through a field. His knuckles are white, his face tense. It’s like he’s going into a battle instead of fleeing one.
We drive into the forest, the trees casting an eerie shadow across the dashboard.
“Where the hell are you taking me?” Gosha groans.
“It shouldn’t be much farther.” Dimitri looks ahead, mumbling to himself. Up ahead, I see a patch of sunlight at the edge of the treeline. The tire tracks end as we reach a lonely meadow.
“Turn around. There’s nothing here,” I tell him.
He ignores me.
As we enter the clearing, a group of black SUVs moves behind us, blocking the path we just came through. Dima slows the car to a stop.
“Who are they?” Gosha tenses, preparing for another fight.
“Friends.” Dimitri slumps against the seat, finally able to succumb to the pain and fatigue of the last few days.
“Then why do they have guns?” I ask.
“They’re your friends, love. Not mine,” he says sadly.
They surround the car with their weapons raised, ready for an attack. One man taps on my window. Dimitri rolls down the glass, and a gun barrel reaches across me and points at Dimitri.
“Everyone out, hands up. If you so much as make a false move, I’ll personally blow your brains out,” he growls, and I recognize the voice. It’s the crusty old man from the Myatezhniki. He looks older in the daylight.
“We’re wounded,” Dimitri answers calmly. “You’d better call for help for the ones in the back.”
“Bring in medical,” the man shouts. “This one first.” He taps on the hood above Zhenya. “Move slowly, both of you,” he barks. “We won’t have a repeat of last time.”
I reach for Dima’s hand instinctively, trying to sharpen my thoughts. These men want Dimitri dead. And I battle with my conscience as I realize that I will intercede for him again. Killing Sasha was unforgivable. But my loyalty runs too deep. Even if Dima’s was shallow.
The car doors open. Both Dimitri and I move slowly with our hands held as high as possible. My broken ribs and his wounded arm are not the best advocates.
“I said, hands up,” The old man growls. I try to raise mine higher and cry out in pain. “She’s injured,” he reports through an earpiece. I was right. He’s not the Ghost if he has to report these details.
The men lead Dimitri and me to the middle of the meadow, forming a circle around us.
“On the ground,” the old man commands.
“I’ll stand,” Dimitri announces.
“Fine by me. Doesn’t matter how I shoot a murderer,” he replies.
Without thinking, I step in front of Dima. “I don’t know who he took from you. And I’m not making excuses for him. But you can’t kill him,” I plead. “Take him as a prisoner. He has a lot of information. I promise he’ll give it to you.”
“I’m not planning on dying today.” Dimitri’s voice is soft, and he places a hand on my back. The guns move in response.
“Yulia, step away from the murderer,” the old man orders.
“I can’t let you do it. I’m sorry.” I don’t move, and for the second time today, I face my attackers in a stalemate.
“Call him,” Dimitri orders. “She won’t comply until she sees him.”
The old man nods. “You’d better get out here.” He speaks into his earpiece, waving a hand in the air.
One of the SUVs pulls forward. I watch while still keeping the old man’s gun in my peripheral.
“I swore on my mother’s grave never to breathe the truth.” Dimitri’s shoulders slump in relief. “I had to protect him at any cost.”
I have no idea what Dimitri means.
A man steps out of the vehicle. There’s something familiar about him. His hat matches Dimitri’s. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses that block most of his face. I squint, trying to get a better look. He’s missing an arm.
“I fulfilled my promise,” Dimitri calls to him.
“Ten years late,” the man shouts back.
I know that voice. I know that walk. I ignore all of the guns, the pain in my ribs, and the fact that he’s supposed to be dead as I run and throw myself into the arms of my brother.