“How many explosive devices did you find?” Cal asked.
The man eyed Cal cautiously. “Who said anything about explosive devices?”
“I’m the one who called in the tip about what was going on here. And the way I see it is you can either be the hero of a foiled plot or you can look like fools in allowing this to happen right under your noses during the World Cup. I’m certain I know which version your superiors would prefer get out.”
The man sighed and shook his head. “We found enough C-4 explosives to bring down the entire stadium. It’s very fortunate that there was an outbreak of food poisoning today because these devices were armed could’ve been detonated during the match.”
“Do you have any suspects?” Cal asked.
“None that we can name at this time, but there’s one we’re focusing our investigation on at this time. But this is all new, and we don’t want to release any names yet.”
Cal prepared to set his trap. “So you want to catch Sergei Bazarov so he doesn’t get the jump on you?”
The commander scowled at Cal. “No comment.”
Though the man didn’t say a word, his look spoke volumes, confirming who he suspected was behind the potential attack.
“And was there a murder here as well?”
“It’s already being reported by Russian news outlets. You have plenty of catching up to do. Now, I must be on my way.”
Cal nodded and thanked the commander. He hustled back to his car and drove to the hotel where he began writing his article.
Every news station carried the sensational murder of Ukrainian businessman Ivan Mortuk, son of star player Fedir Mortuk. Ivan had been found shot in the back of the head just inside the gates of Cosmos Arena. While it certainly appeared to be a turf war on the surface, Cal suspected there had to be more to it than that. But he couldn’t be sure.
He finished his story hailing the cooperation between U.S. and Russian officials to stave off a potentially devastating terrorist attack. Cal also wrote that Sergei Bazarov was the central figure in an investigation as to who was behind everything.
After sending the article to Buckman, Cal meandered downstairs, sat at the bar, and ordered a glass of vodka. He wasn’t there long before he felt a tap on his shoulder. Natalya stood behind him.
“I thought I would find you here,” she said, a hint of a smile on her face for the first time since he’d met her.
“So I guess you heard the news,” Cal said.
She nodded and climbed onto the bar seat next to him. “I’m still devastated over my father’s death, but now I know it wasn’t in vain.”
Cal ordered her a drink and waited until the glass was in her hand. “A toast,” he said, holding up his vodka. “To Yuri Listyev, the best Russian journalist I never met and a good father.”
He clinked glasses with Natalya, who broke into a wide grin before tears started streaming down her face.
“I know he would be proud of what you did,” Cal said.
She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and nodded. “I know he’s watching,” she said between sniffles. “I only wanted to keep the promise I made to him as he was dying.”
“You’re going to make a good journalist one day, Natalya.”
She smiled and then stared past him at the television in the corner of the room.
“Look,” she said. “The police just apprehended Sergei Bazarov in connection with the plan to blow up Cosmos Arena.”
“Nailed it,” he said, pumping his fist. He noticed Bazarov’s mugshot up on the screen but couldn’t understand anything else the newscaster was saying.
Then Cal’s phone buzzed. It was Kelly.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I need to take this.”
He got up from his seat and walked into the lobby, away from the ambient lounge noise so he could hear.
“Did you read the news?” Cal asked.
“I did,” Kelly answered. “But that’s not why I called.”
“Is something wrong? Is Maddie okay? Are those men back?”
“No, calm down. It’s nothing like that. But I did find something in that file you sent me.”
“You did? What was it?”
“Are you sitting down?” she asked. “You’re not going to believe this.”
Chapter 36
NIKO BAZAROV WAITED PATIENTLY for the door to buzz open so he could walk through it. His father’s attorney had been out of town on business and was flying back to help his premier client. But it meant Sergei would be behind bars for the night. Niko decided to pull a few strings to get a special visit, albeit one that was monitored by an armed guard.
When Niko arrived outside his father’s cell, Sergei sat slumped over on the edge of his bed. When Sergei looked up, his bloodshot eyes drooped, shame evident all over his face.
“Oh, Papa,” Niko said, rushing to his father’s side after the door unlocked and rolled open.
Sergei recoiled, shifting his shoulder toward Niko. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were doing.”
Sergei huffed and shook his head. “If you knew what was right, you’d be long gone by now and getting your money transferred to secret accounts unable to be touched by the Russian government. It appears as if they want to make a scape goat out of me.”
“I think it’s more like they want to use you an example of how tough they are on terror,” Niko suggested.
“If that was true, they could make an example out of the filthy terrorists who infiltrate our land each day and set up a base of operations here. But me? I’m loyal to the motherland. No one can deny that.”
“That is true, Papa. Everyone here knows you’re a patriot.”
“Then why am I still in this cell? It’s maddening, I tell you, especially when there’s someone like Ivan Mortuk who they could easily pin this attack on.”
Niko’s face fell. “What do you mean, Papa? Haven’t you heard the news? Ivan Mortuk was murdered right outside the stadium.”
Sergei acted surprised. “What a shame, to die just before your son plays in his first World Cup match.”
Niko winked at his father. “Yes, what a shame for him. Almost as much of a shame that he felt he could do whatever he wanted as a businessman.”
“Everyone gets what’s coming to them one day,” Sergei said as he tousled his son’s hair. “But I know that with a great son like you, you won’t have to worry about such things. You are fair to everyone, even someone as twisted as Ivan Mortuk.”
“Don’t worry. You’re going to be out of here in no time. In fact, I even have your lawyer developing a theory to pin the murder on Ivan Mortuk, even though he’s dead. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“But one of the officers told me they found my prints on the explosive devices. How is that even possible? I never handle those things—ever. That is not my area of expertise.”
“There are ways to create assurances.”
“You mean like the assurances you gave me when it came to Yuri Listyev? I thought I would never utter his name again, at least that’s what you promised me.”
Niko paced around the room, steepling his fingers and pressing them gently to his lips. “Even the best laid schemes . . .”
“Save your poetic lines for someone who still believes it has meaning. This scheme failed because I was set up, not due to some great incompetence or negligence. What went awry for us was the rat who framed me. But I will find out who did this, and I’ll make sure they suffer a just penalty for their error.”
“I’m sure you will, Papa.”
“In the meantime, you listen closely to what I say. Move your money to offshore accounts, take your mother, and flee the country. Go visit a tropical island somewhere. Drink some vodka on a beach in the Caribbean. Just don’t give anyone else a reason to drag you into this mess, okay?”
Niko said nothing, staring blankly at his father.
“Promise me, Son,” Sergei said.
“I love you, Papa,
” Niko said as he stooped down and kissed his father on the forehead. Niko slipped a small shiv into his father’s hand and whispered, “Just in case.”
Sergei remained uninterested in the object passed to him. “Promise me, Niko.”
“I promise, Papa. And I will also promise that you’ll be out of here soon enough and this nightmare will be all over for you.”
SERGEI WATCHED THE BARRED DOOR roll and clank shut before the lock fell into place. He got up and craned his neck to watch Niko walk away. Trying not to cry, Sergei contemplated how he would exact revenge upon the person who was clever enough to frame him. It was helpful in passing the time until the lights went out an hour later.
Sergei laid down on his cot, refusing to get underneath the covers despite the draft that chilled the air. Such an act was one of surrender, and he wasn’t willing to give up yet—even if he was responsible for the plot in some way. If he was honest with himself, he never liked the idea, talked into it by Niko. His persuasive ways had often resulted in difficulties for Sergei. If anyone else had brought him this much pain and anguish, he would’ve certainly requested the services of Vladislav Rakitsky to clean up the problem.
Sergei heard a noise and sat up. He grabbed the shiv given to him by Niko and checked the edge of the blade. It was sharp and deemed sufficient should the situation require it. The shuffling of feet down the hallway led Sergei to wonder if he was about to get a bunkmate.
Perhaps it was the fact that he had just been thinking about his top assassin that Sergei was surprised when Vlad appeared at his cell door a half hour later.
“Vlad?” Sergei asked, somewhat bewildered. “What are you doing here?”
Vlad didn’t say a word as the door rolled open. He stepped inside and thrust a knife at Sergei’s stomach. Sergei jumped back and spun to the side.
“What are you doing?” Sergei asked.
Vlad remained silent as the two entered into orbit, each man refusing to look away from the eyes of his opponent. Sergei kept his shiv hidden, tucked into his sleeve. He wanted Vlad to believe he had the upper hand against a defenseless target. After a few more seconds, Vlad lunged with his knife toward Sergei. This time, Sergei was prepared. He slid back and grabbed Vlad’s protruding arm with both hands. Forcing Vlad’s arm down, Sergei bent it over his knee, shaking the knife loose.
Vlad escaped from Sergei’s grip and spun free. Then Sergei kicked the knife near the edge of the cell door, doing his best to make it appear as if it were an accident. Still appearing defenseless, Sergei waited for Vlad to make his move. When the assassin bent down, Sergei took one step closer to Vlad and plunged the shiv into his neck.
Vlad dropped the knife and twisted back toward the ground. He used both hands to try and apply pressure to the wound, but it was of little use, a fact he quickly realized. In a matter of seconds, he quit fighting and stared skyward as the last of his life drained from him.
“Why, Vlad? Why? I was so good to you,” Sergei said.
Vlad never answered as he died seconds later.
Sergei was startled as he heard the sound of heavy footfalls approaching. “Hey, over here!” he shouted.
With the cell door still open, Sergei poked his head out to make eye contact with what he presumed was an oncoming guard. But it wasn’t any prison personnel. It was Niko.
“Papa, what happened?” Niko said as he gawked at the body of Vlad splayed along the floor.
“He tried to kill me,” Sergei said, still clutching the shiv. “I have no idea why he would do such a thing. I treated him well, and he’d been so loyal to me for so long. What could make him turn on me like that?”
In an instant, it all clicked for Sergei.
Niko!
Sergei been betrayed by his own son. Despite deep love for Niko, Sergei always saw his son as an opportunist. And if ever there was a time for an opportunist to strike, this was it. Niko would never have a better chance to abscond with millions of his father’s money. The trip to the Caribbean was likely already booked, a plane fueled and ready. All that was missing was the assurance that his old man was dead.
Sergei didn’t hesitate to stab his son, only the end of the shiv didn’t meet pliable flesh. Prepared for the incoming blade, Niko grabbed Sergei’s hand and rammed the blade into the wall, jarring the knife loose. Caught off guard by the move, Sergei was stunned. It was just a moment that he looked blankly at his son, but that was all the time Niko needed to slide behind his father and twist his neck, breaking it and killing him instantaneously.
Niko didn’t give his father or the assassin a second look, hurdling both their bodies as he stealthily maneuvered toward the exit, held open for him by Oleg Damiecki.
“Where’s my cut?” Damiecki demanded once they were safely away from the prison cells and in another hallway.
“I deposited it in your bank account, as always,” Niko said.
Damiecki kept his hand pressed hard against Niko’s chest. The FSB agent pulled out his phone and checked his account. The money was there.
“Don’t disappear on me, Niko,” Damiecki said. “It’d be a shame if you chose to end our little arrangement.”
Niko shoved Damiecki’s hand to the side. “Don’t worry. I have no plans to go anywhere.”
Chapter 37
CAL BARELY HAD TIME to pack before he traveled to Moscow for the United States men’s national team game against Ghana. It was a pivotal game for the U.S.’s hopes of advancing to the quarterfinal knockout round. Not only that, but Cal had put in another call to Senator Curt Daniels, baiting him with some information that might interest his son. Before Cal reached town, he received a text from Daniels confirming he would be there.
The U.S. managed to steal the maximum points awarded during the first-round matches behind a screaming shot from just beyond the arc by Bobby Wood for a 1-0 victory. The game-winning blast sent Sam’s Army into delirium and led them to sing a persistent chorus that echoed throughout the stadium long after Cal had finished his article.
Once he packed up all his gear, he headed down the main concourse and was met by a pair of men who looked like they were from some U.S. government organization. FBI, CIA, Secret Service—Cal wasn’t sure which one. All he knew is that they were official and armed. He readily agreed to go with them down the hall.
After they walked for about fifty meters, the men peeled off around one of the suites. One man stood guard outside, while the other led Cal into the room. Inside, Senator Daniels and his son Kyle were waiting.
“Helluva game tonight, right?” Senator Daniels said in an attempt to make small talk. “That Bobby Wood is impressive. I sure am glad he didn’t come down with food poisoning before the game. I heard that catering company got fired from their World Cup contract after that fiasco.”
A hint of a smile spread around Cal’s lips. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a fiasco. It enabled local law enforcement enough time to search the stadium, thanks to you.”
Daniels gave him a knowing smile. “Well, that’s all in the past. Let’s talk about this new information that has emerged. You said it might interest Kyle.”
Cal nodded. “Yes, let’s get to it.” He pulled out his laptop and turned it on. “Now, I want to preface this by saying that when Yuri Listyev gave me this information initially, I wasn’t thinking about delving any deeper into it. I mean, learning about a plot to blow up a stadium full of supporters in a game between the two nations you hate the most is one thing. But I had this suspicion there was more to it, though I wasn’t equipped personally to dig further. So, I called my wife, who is a photographer, but also someone who has more than a passing knowledge of how to embed information in computer files.”
“So, this wasn’t just about the stadium?”
Cal shrugged. “I’m not sure. Kyle, you’re the expert here, so I wanted to make sure you saw this for yourself so you could interpret it and determine what exactly it all means.”
He tapped out several keystrokes on his computer, and an image t
hat was on the thumb drive Yuri had given him appeared before it dissolved into a list.
“What is this?” Senator Daniels asked.
Kyle stooped down and squinted as he stared at the screen.
Cal watched as Kyle’s mouth dropped at a steady pace, until it was fully agape. “I’m guessing that means something to you.”
Kyle nodded, eyes still fixated on the screen. “These are the contact methods for several of the top terrorist organizations in the world. I recognize several groups, ones that were rumored to have purchased large caches of weapons from Sergei Bazarov.”
“So, this is important information then?” Cal asked.
“This could help us flush out several terrorist leaders and cripple them permanently. I won’t bore you with the details, but this is as good, if not better, than gold in my line of work.”
“There’s one name I thought might jump out at you on the list,” Cal said as he pointed to the screen. “What do you think about that one?”
Cal’s finger rested just below the name Scott Melton along with a private email and cell phone number.
“That’s his name, but I don’t recognize that contact information,” Kyle said.
“Do you think it’s a burner phone?” Cal asked.
Kyle shrugged. “Maybe, but I have a hard time thinking he was working with someone on Bazarov’s team without telling me about it.”
“Come on, Son,” Senator Daniels said. “You’ve been in this business long enough to know not to be blinded to possibilities about agents slowly getting turned. Maybe Scott didn’t set out to be a traitor, but the opportunity to get wealthy did. You can never underestimate the power of cash being flashed in someone’s face. Greed is a powerful motivator.”
Kyle sighed. “I guess it’s possible. And it’s not that I don’t think it’s true. It’s just that—”
“That it’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Cal asked.
Kyle nodded. “We worked together for so long. He’s the last person I would’ve suspected.”
“That’s how it always is,” Senator Daniels chimed in. “Our affinity for the people we care about often allows us to overlook their foibles.”
Dead End Page 16