Romanov Warehouse
Tunis, Algeria
The doors to the darkened warehouse closed behind the Hummer SUV, blocking out the sandstorm racing through the city, covering it in a thick brown haze. Two of Romanov’s remaining loyal bodyguards warily got out of the SUV and scanned the space for any sign of a threat. When he saw that they were alone, the closest guard reached back and opened the rear passenger door. Nika Romanov stepped out, dressed in a tight-fitting, dark-gray, leather outfit, her hair pulled back on her head.
“We leave for the airport in ten minutes,” said Nika to the guards, before striding over to a staircase leading up to the second floor. The clicking sound of her high heels on the concrete echoed through the cavernous hangar. When she reached the top of the stairs, Nika turned and walked toward a locked office at the end of the hallway. She opened her purse, dug out a key, and quickly opened the door. Nika stepped inside, reached over, flicked on the light switch, and froze in her tracks. Her father’s picture was not in the middle of the wall where it always had been. Instead, it lay on the floor. The door to the hidden wall safe was open and the contents of the safe were missing.
The sound of a pistol’s safety being unlatched made Nika turn her head. Her blood turned to ice when she saw Chang sitting in a darkened corner of the room. In his hand was a silenced pistol aimed right at her chest.
“The last time I checked, there were just over twenty million dollars in that safe,” said Nika.
“Nineteen million, eight hundred thousand, to be precise,” replied Chang.
“A small price to pay. I can get more, plenty more, if you need it.”
“I don’t need any more,” said Chang. “I came for the remainder of the money you people owed me, which I now have. I have outstanding expenses and one too many widows to pay off, thanks to you and your family.”
Nika tried to swallow, but fear had turned her mouth dry. “Don’t play me for a fool, Colonel Chang. You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to serve my father. Losses are an inevitable part of your business.”
“You are quite right, Miss Romanov, losses are to be expected. However, betrayal is not. You cannot deny it. You did not intend to pull me or my men off that volcano before it exploded, wiping us all out. I was just too slow to realize it, and it cost me and my organization dearly in men and material.”
Nika’s stomach gripped itself in knots. “Think about it, Colonel, you can’t escape. My men downstairs will surely kill you if you shoot me,” said Nika.
“Wrong,” said Chang, firing one bullet square into Nika’s forehead, blasting out the back of her skull. Blood and brains splattered the wall behind her, as her body fell to the floor. “Your men are dead already,” said Chang as he removed the silencer from his pistol. Standing, Chang placed his pistol away into his shoulder holster. He stepped over Nika’s lifeless body, switched off the light, and quietly closed the door behind him, ending his contract with the Romanov Corporation.
51
Corrine March’s home
Charlotte, North Carolina
Mitchell sat at the kitchen table, knowing that it was better to keep out of the way when a woman was busy running around packing things. Corrine March sat at the table with him, both of them enjoying a beer while Jen hurried around the house.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Mitchell asked Mrs. March.
“No. After all I’ve been through, I think some time with Jen’s brother, Derek, and his family in Chicago is in order. He has three little ones I can spoil rotten for a couple of weeks before coming back home,” replied Mrs. March. “Besides, as they always say, two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
Jen stepped into the kitchen, holding up a couple of shirts in her hands for her mother to help her decide what to pack.
Mitchell, seeing her standing there, stood and wrapped his arms around Jen’s slender waist, pulling her toward him. He took in a long intoxicating breath of Jen’s perfume.
“Easy does it, Mister Mitchell,” said Jen. “My mom is in the room.”
Mitchell smiled briefly and shook his head. “You do know we’re going for a week, not a month, don’t you?”
“A girl’s got to look her best,” she replied.
Mitchell raised his hands in surrender and sat down. The extra weight on his arm brought his gaze to his cast, and for a moment, he reread some of the writing. From out of nowhere, a chill ran up Mitchell’s spine. The room grew quiet. Mitchell reached for his beer, but stopped, his hand hovering in the air, midway to his drink. Jen stood there, also frozen in time for the moment. Her head was turned away from him, as if she were intently listening for something far in the distance.
Mitchell reached over and gently touched her hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Slowly, Jen turned to face Mitchell, a calm look on her face. “No, I didn’t see a ghost, but for some reason, I feel like I don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Mitchell sat there, holding her hand, wondering what Jen had meant. He knew it would serve no purpose to ask, so he simply squeezed her hand and sat there in the room, knowing that he would always be bound to the woman who had just entered his life.
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