Gabriel felt butterflies erupt in his stomach. Dim them. He couldn’t think of a more removed term for murder. “You’re pretty good at this, huh?” he asked after Anatoly’s express tutorial in proper assassination etiquette.
“The best,” Anatoly said, sitting back in his chair. “When it comes down to it, it’s either you or them. Who’s it’s going to be will be up to you. You want to go home to Briggy, you better be ready to shoot.”
Gabriel nodded. “Chew on that,” he said nonchalantly. He hoped that his nervousness didn’t show, but the reality of what he was about to do had him chomping at the bit. Sweat pooled below his collar and his hands were now clammy and shaky. His pulse raced and his stomach turned over and over. It was like a countdown to a nervous breakdown for him.
All the while in his mind, Gabriel asked himself how had his father done this for so many years with so much ease. The guy had to have been a sociopath. But what made him so much different? It was extremely ironic to him. He had done everything in his power to be more than the man, yet here he was, doing exactly what his father had done for the same people his father had done it for.
Life could be cruel.
***
The debonair and overtly chauvinistic Agent Zach Langston waltzed into one the war rooms of Langely’s CIA compound in dark jeans, a white t-shirt and a black wool coat turned up at the collar, carrying a brown leather satchel over his shoulder and a cell phone in his hand.
His dirty blonde crew cut was still damp from a shower earlier in the night and his well-tanned skin was still flushed from a marathon sex session that left him smelling like Chanel perfume and the champagne that he had used for a non-conventional but very effective lubricant.
Awakened from his slumber with two beautiful Ms. World contestants exactly forty-two minutes ago, Langston got the call, grabbed his go-bag and sped over right away from his hotel room in his black Lotus Spider sports car.
Waiting on him was his team, a group of three young ambitious junior agents, who had been under his tutelage for over two years, and group of communications specialists who had been working the situation since they were first notified.
The entire room went rigid as soon as the cocky thirties-something agent waltzed in with a lollipop in his mouth. Throwing his gear on the table, he looked up at the twin flat screen monitors and snapped his finger for coffee.
“Black. No sugar. No cream,” he ordered, placing both of his palms flat on the table. “Updates?”
Agent Moore snapped to attention adjusting his glasses while he typed quickly into the computer to pull up the latest communications. Moore had been sitting at the computer for over eight hours and was in dire need of a break, but this was the CIA and at the present asking for a break was like asking for a raise in the middle of a Congressional hearing.
A recent black and white composite of Anya being escorted by Davyd to school came up on the largest screen. Another followed with her and Royal at the boutique a few weeks before. Finally one of Anya and Dmitry came up from her last trip to London.
Moore cleared his throat and began with updates. “Dmitry Medlov’s only daughter, Anya Aleski Medlov, has been missing for 30 hours and 15 minutes. She was last seen outside Prague, Czech Republic just a few miles from her home with her bodyguards being escorted to her day school. Abducted by unknowns, she was flown out of the country minutes after she was taken. Since then, Medlov has locked down his chateau and activated special ops and paramilitary forces. He’s scrambling all signals outside of the chateau and has set up communications inside using former Russian special agents. His nephew and the newest bad boy to join the crew, Gabriel Medlov, formerly of the DEA under special agent-in-charge, Lee, and Czar Anatoly Medlov both arrived in Prague hours ago with their significant others. No confirmed leads on the abductors, but we are compiling a list of viable suspects. Wire taps have been placed on over 100 people from over 23 organizations in over 18 countries. And just as a side note, it appears that Renee, Anatoly’s girlfriend is pregnant. Two months along exactly.”
Langston’s grayish blue eyes scanned the monitor. Pulling the candy out of his mouth, he frowned. “I don’t really give a fuck about the new additions. What I want to know is does he have a list?” he asked of Moore.
“Austrian intelligence sent over the contact information for ex-colonel Kalensko’s location two hours ago to Medlov, sir.”
“Old Upheil, huh? Figures. The info was sent in exchange for?” Langston asked, taking a mug from a young redhead, who also passed him a top-secret file for him to review on the Medlov situation. He looked down at it and flipped it open.
“Nothing was discussed in exchange for the information so far,” Moore answered. “It appears that they sent it as a gift. More than likely it is due to the fact that Medlov currently has over $2.5 billion in Austrian banks alone.”
“Well, that will definitely do it. Looks like Upheil is going to finally take that dirt nap he’s needed. More power to the fuckers.” Biting his thin bottom lip, Langston thought for a moment then tapped the table. “Give me a revised file on the Krysykstonia situation; get me a list of viable abductors with the means and the balls to pull this up off. They’re going to be clandestine special ops types with some form of a long money trail behind them, and get me on a jet ASAP headed to Prague in the next hour. I need to talk to Medlov before he finds his kid. Let’s see if we can kill two birds with one stone.” Sucking his perfectly white teeth, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the bridge of his nose. “Let me clarify. I need a list of the most viable abductors …top three, people. Don’t screw it up. And pull up the phone taps on all of his council members. Start with Khalid Sidorov. I’m sure that Medlov doesn’t know that his late son, Vladimir, is still alive. And if I were betting my dick on the matter, then I’d say he was good for this.”
The redhead cut her eyes in the corner at him for his statement. Langston looked over and smirked at her. His lingering glare indicating that they knew each other on an intimate level.
“Yes, sir,” Moore answered, turning back to his computer.
Langston took a sip of his scaling hot coffee and headed back out of the door for his office to change clothes and shave before his departure. “Let’s overthrow a dictatorship by getting this man’s daughter back, boys and girls. By the way, no one leaves this compound until I get what I want.”
Chapter 14
The short flight from Prague, Czech Republic to Vienna, Austria on Dmitry’s personal Gulfstream V was quicker than flying from Memphis, TN to Atlanta, GA. Still it amazed Gabriel how much jet setting was required with his new profession. Sure as an undercover agent he had traveled a great deal, but Dmitry took it to a new level.
Going from one country to the next, regardless of how far apart they were was just like traveling state to state for the Medlov’s. And no matter where they went, everyone of importance who could make things happen for them knew Dmitry.
He barely had time to wrap his head around what they were about to do before they had landed on a private airstrip outside of Vienna and were being carted off again by a group of Dmitry’s men on site.
They all looked at him and whispered to one another, obviously amazed at his physical resemblance to his father, Ivan. And he was certain that they wondered, if not worried, that he was like him in other ways.
Over the last year, he had gotten used to the common reaction to his looks and in a way enjoyed it. Before when he was on the other side of the law as an agent, no one recognized him and said anything good about his resemblance to his father. In fact, they almost pitied him for what most people considered good looks. Evidently, his father had been such a bastard until he had single handled branded sociopathic bad-asses as seven-foot tall brunettes with blue eyes. However with his family, his seven-feet of height, heavy muscle, dark inky mane and startling green mossy eyes were just another signature of being a Medlov. It was understood and regarded with pride instead of consternation.
; But just like when he was an agent, here much was expected of him. He had to carry himself a certain way, be guarded and always serious. As the nephew to Dmitry Medlov and the cousin to Anatoly, his down-to-earth demeanor had to take a backseat to being a certifiable badass when in public.
And just like any other crime syndicate and even though he was family, he knew that he was about to undergo induction to the Vor through murder.
He had never done murder before.
Never.
Sure he had shot a few guys, but he had always used his training to just injure them, not kill them. Before he had needed to keep them alive to take them to trial, to prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law.
Now, he was judge and jury.
Now, he was a man no different from the men whom he had investigated and locked up.
In the silence of his thoughts, he tried to carefully construct his line of questioning for Kalensko, remembering his training from the DEA to extract as most useful Intel as possible before the men whom he was currently in the company of began their own line of questioning/torture on the high-asset target.
He simply couldn’t believe what a little money could do. In short – move mountains.
Simply because of Dmitry’s lengthy history with the Austrians and his money in their banks, when Dmitry had called a few friends at the Vienna Interpol SAC office to get information regarding his daughter, they had sent him all the material that he needed on Upheil Kalensko.
Just like that, the Austrians had given the former colonel up to a known crime lord and turned their heads for what they knew would be certain and brutal retaliation on their own turf.
At the end of the day, money talked in all countries, and Dmitry’s money was far longer than Kalensko’s - making him one of the world’s most fluent linguists.
Plus for many, it was easier to ignore or at least rationalize Dmitry’s gritty line of business in weapons trafficking versus Kalensko’s human trafficking gig. Either way, Dmitry was favored in the situation and as such received sensitive Intel that even certain government entities couldn’t get, especially U.S. entities.
Now, they were here not even two hours after the kidnappers call making a house visit on a man who had eluded not only his own countrymen and their courts but also a hundred others.
The designated safe house was in the City Center district not far from Dmitry’s favorite five-star hotel when he visited, the Ambassador. Because Dmitry came to the city often for business, he always had a team nearby ready to dispatch, which had proven to be quite convenient for the current situation. It cut down on the time of trying to secure trustworthy and qualified people for the hit and minimalized the already ramping costs for the campaign.
When they pulled up to their first stop, Gabriel snapped out of his thoughts and took in his surroundings. They drove quickly into a private garage and filed out without talking.
Doors slammed back to back as over twenty men poured out of the large black SUVs in black-on-black tactical gear and donning enough guns and Kevlar to start a small war.
On the outside, the safe house appeared to be a swank brownstone off of Kärtner Strasse no different from the rest of the upscale properties on the block.
One would have barely noticed that the windows on the building had been customized with a reflective tent preventing people from seeing inside of it or that the two units directly on top of each other were bullet and sound proof.
Inside the airy bottom loft had been retrofitted into an arsenal brandishing row after row of weapons, more Kevlar, ammunition and all things cutting edge to go to battle.
Two short, stout former military men from Romania were always posted at the loft, living at the place as tenants and paid to be on call for Dmitry 24-hours a day. Their cell phones were always on, and they never left the city, just in case their boss called.
Two additional men lived in the upstairs loft directly above the arsenal flat and served as Dmitry’s personal bodyguards when he was in the city. These men were not military, but they were Vory soldiers who had been handpicked by Dmitry and flown over from Moscow a few years back.
The four men, despite their differences and beliefs, had become friends of sorts and had grown accustomed to their odd way of living on call and guarding Dmitry’s Vienna safe house. However, this was merely one of hundreds of these setups that were located strategically all over the world. Where ever Dmitry had a lot of business, he had a safe house, never trusting anyone and always bringing his own crew to any meetings or negotiations. He considered it to be just one way that he stayed a step ahead of the game.
All of these strategic moves before this had been completely lost on Anatoly and regarded as pure overkill, but experiencing this first-hand abduction had served as a living tutorial for him on why one could never be too prepared, especially one with children.
Once inside of the house and the perimeter secured, all the men first grabbed coffee, water or something to eat while others packed on more gear before their briefing. Everyone had a specific ritual that they had to go through beforehand which included everything from praying and eating to doing pushups or meditation.
Gabriel was no different in this regard. He counted his magazine clips one at a time and then packed them carefully into his backpack, memorizing the feel of things inside of the bag just in case he got into a situation where he couldn’t see.
After that, he looked around the room at some of the other weapons and loaded up on a few concussion grenades, a knife, a flash light, a flare gun and then finally he walked up on a real treat.
Sitting alone on a rack in the corner of the room was a brand new M107A sniper rifle, capable of stopping a moving car and one of the most powerful weapons in the world. He had used one before in a training exercise but had never had the opportunity to really use one in the field. Now, he would get his chance.
He ran his hand over the muzzle, and looked at the sleek, black steel finish with a nudging hard-on.
This was possibly one of the most beautiful weapons that he had ever seen, and it was just sitting here waiting for him.
Some of the stuff he had loaded up on for tonight, he just wanted to take just to use it for the first time, but other things like the Glock he carried closest to him was a necessity. Now this was something that he not only had to use, but he had to take home with him.
He felt Anatoly looking at him from across the room. Turning to him with a smile, he rubbed the gun lovingly. “I think I’ll name her Nelly,” he said, picking up the case it came in to break it down and take it with him.
While everyone else did all of their prep work, Anatoly was already ready. He had spent so many years serving in the service of his father as a henchman until it only took him a few minutes to do what it took some men days to prepare for. Chomping down on a large green apple, he walked around the room and observed all the men. However, there was one in particular that he was most interested in. Gabriel.
Anatoly knew that his cousin was no longer a fed and had no loyalty to any of the organizations in the U.S., but he seriously doubted that the man was ready for the Vor.
His father was always trying to make amends for the wrong he had done to Gabriel’s mother and grandmother, therefore overlooking huge infractions that would have cost any other man and his family - for that matter - their lives.
Still, Dmitry saw something in Gabriel. He hoped that the boy would be everything that Ivan couldn’t be. And to Anatoly that was way too much fucking pressure for one man.
Anatoly wondered if Gabriel would buckle under enough pressure. He wondered if he’d get shot in one of their shit storms or give up and beg to be released from the service of the Vor when he saw how they really operated. Maybe the guy was a spineless little shit when times got too hard. Maybe he would bitch out when it came time to pull the trigger and start on some rant about judicial process.
Then there was another thought – one that seemed to overshadow all the others. What if he was a
real Medlov? What if under the heat and pressure of the situation, the man actually forged a spine of steel and would stand upright with the rest of them and finally make Dmitry proud.
It was hard to say and much too early, but in an effort to bring the second generation of Medlov men closer together, Dmitry had coupled them in this fight to either rise or fall together.
Anatoly smirked at the thought. The old man was still trying to teach lessons to him even in his darkest hour, when he should have been focusing only on himself. He couldn’t help but respect him for trying.
When the prep ended, the briefing began. The leader of the A-team from the chateau who had accompanied Gabriel and Anatoly took over with permission of the men who manned the safe house. All the chatter quieted to utter silence. The only sound in the room was the television above the mantle playing the weather channel.
The leader stood over the dinner table with large aerial maps with the location and layout of Kalensko’s sprawling mansion on the outskirts of town, hidden by a mass of trees and protected by a large, reinforced gate that bordered the entire 85 acres he hid out on.
“Not one bullet can be fired before we access entry through the gate,” the leader explained as he pointed at the Google maps 3D version of the house. “Now, we will have a little gift to help us out courtesy of Boss Medlov and the utilities department of Vienna. He has paid for a five-minute window where this entire grid will go black. No power. No detection. It’s already gone out once tonight, just to throw them off. So they will think that it’s an electrical problem. Calls have already been made to the utilities office and his people have been assured that the problem will be fixed by morning. Once it goes out again, we will use the night vision equipment to make entry quietly and strategically place ourselves at specific vantage points around the perimeter where we can take Kalensko’s men before they know that we are there. However, once they discover that they have been infiltrated, we need to be ready to take them down quickly.”
Saving Anya Page 11