Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  No sign of the animal in the living room or the kitchen. Viktor walked down the hallway, past a bathroom. At the end were two doors, one open and one closed. The room with an open door was empty and Viktor could easily see that it belonged to the tall guy. Viktor turned and faced the closed door.

  I found you.

  Viktor pressed his ear against the door and listened. He could hear the faint sound of someone snoring. The door was unlocked and opened easily.

  The bed was a mess of sheets and a comforter. Viktor could feel the excitement in him rise. He couldn’t wait to have her again. She was the best of the group from what he remembered.

  Thick carpeting muffled his movements to the bed but Viktor was surprised at what he found. Natasha was not there. Snoring up a storm was an obese, asthmatic dog. Where’s the girl? Viktor was positive she hadn’t left with the other two.

  There were suitcases lined up against the wall, so this had to be her room. Did she go upstairs? Just as Viktor turned to head out, he heard a toilet flush. A bathroom...

  There were two closed doors in the room. One had to be the bathroom; the other was most likely the closet. Viktor had no time to think of a brilliant plan, for the door to the right of him was already opening. All Viktor could do was wait with a smile.

  Chapter 100

  Wiping the sleep from her eyes, Natasha realized she had a few more hours of sleep in her and couldn’t wait to crawl back into bed. The longer she sat there peeing, the more irritated she got, and the more irritated she got, the more awake she became. She pulled on the toilet paper in anticipation and waited a few more seconds. Finally she stopped short of setting the world record and flushed the toilet.

  Natasha kept her eyes partly closed to help get back to dreamland. She opened the bathroom door and stumbled forward, feeling for the bed with her hands. She slipped right in next to Ralphie. The dog didn’t move.

  Natasha lay there, stretching a bit, enjoying her little pre-sleep routine. She pulled the cover up to the bottom of her chin, rolled over on her side facing away from the bathroom. Both of her hands were tucked under her chest as if she were praying. Any second now she would be asleep. Everything was perfect, the comfort of the pillow, the warmth under the covers, the gentle stroking of her hair…

  Natasha jerked awake and turned over. She went rigid with fear as shivers ran through her body. The tiny hairs on her arm stood up sounding the alarm. She couldn’t believe who she was looking at. Surely this was a dream and she would wake up any minute. Tears began to pool in her eyes. She was so scared, so sorry about the trouble she had caused. This was payback.

  Viktor’s smile widened revealing his jack-o’-lantern grin.

  “Everything will be okay,” he lied soothingly. “Don’t worry.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her to within inches of his face.

  She yelped from the pain, waking up Ralphie.

  “I’m going to take good care of you.”

  She could smell the evil on his breath. It was dank and stale. In between his crooked teeth were dark stains, wretched and disgusting.

  Ralphie shook the sleep from his body and barked at the stranger who held Natasha.

  “What’s the matter? You want some attention,” Viktor said as he scratched the pug’s ears instantly calming him. Soon the dog was near Viktor moaning in ecstasy as his belly was rubbed.

  To see this sickened Natasha. How dare he play with Ralphie? She felt violated. If only Ralphie knew how evil of a man Viktor was, he would bite the hand that stroked him.

  Viktor pulled Natasha from the bed. All she had on was a sheer tank top with spaghetti straps and a rose-colored thong that had slipped over to the side exposing her genitals. She tried to cover herself, but Viktor smacked her hand away and allowed his finger to linger against her golden, pubic hair and then slip between her pink lips. He looked her over from head to toe, his eyes smacking their lips as he brought his finger up to his nose and breathed in deeply. He was enjoying this.

  Viktor dragged Natasha out of the room and to the dining room table. He pulled his laptop out of his bag and launched the Skype video. He was a giddy little boy and couldn’t contain himself. He forced Natasha to sit on his lap and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her up against him.

  She could feel him growing hard against her. It was disgusting and she began to dry heave at the thought.

  Viktor only laughed at her.

  The program dialed and the user on the other end answered.

  Viktor smiled and ordered Natasha to smile and say hello. When she didn’t say anything, he shook her hard, once. Natasha managed a quiet hello.

  He licked the teenager’s neck slow and deliberately and then ended the connection.

  He dragged her back to the bedroom. “Put some clothes on,” he said as he pushed her toward a dresser.

  Natasha stood near the dresser hunched over and trying to hide her semi-nudity. She was more afraid of this man than ever.

  Keep it together. Don’t show weakness. That was easier to think than to do. Her hands shook as she slipped on a pair of jeans. As she continued to dress, Natasha sensed a calming in her nerves. In her head, she could hear her father and brother’s voices. They were giving her all sorts of advice should she ever find herself in a situation like this again. Luckily she remembered everything they said.

  By the time she put on a hooded top and slipped her sneakers on, she already wore an iron coat of confidence. Natasha turned and faced her captor without fear.

  “Now what?” she asked.

  Chapter 101

  Reports from Moscow began flooding Sokolov’s inbox in the early morning. By the time he woke at six, there were over fifty e-mails connected with the recent killings. With each e-mail he read, it seemed as though three more rang the bell of arrival.

  The assassination the night before of two high-ranking men in the Mafiya fast became news. The reports stated that both men were killed by a sniper’s bullet in the company of witnesses: albeit they were bodyguards, but still witnesses. There was no mistaking the connection to the first kill. Someone was eliminating the heads of the Russian Mafiya. This was big—more so because it wasn’t another criminal organization but an elusive hitman whom many believed didn’t exist. Sokolov knew all too well that he was real; he had briefly had him in his reach.

  All eyes were now on the fourth. Was he next? The Oldest was well known in Moscow, and most government circles in Russia, for the power he wielded over his organization. Bringing him down could send the highly organized Vory into a free-for-all. There were already reports of some members going rogue.

  The Russian government and their neighboring countries were more concerned about the potential for chaos in the criminal world than they were for the safety of the Oldest, though they knew the two were connected and could not be separated. It was essential that he stay alive at all costs until Ghostface was brought down. The sun had yet to crack the horizon when the Russian Military Police stormed the home of the Oldest and whisked him away into protective custody.

  Sokolov spent the next three hours meticulously reading every single e-mail to bring himself up to speed. Initially, he worried that Ghostface would get to the Oldest, that law enforcement in Moscow was no match for the hitman. Taking the Oldest into protective custody was a smart move.

  Sokolov thought about how close he had come to catching him and then how he disappeared like his nickname. How close had he truly been? Was it all an illusion? Was Ghostface really uncatchable?

  It was almost ten when Sokolov finished with the last e-mail. He was mentally drained from the information overload. He got dressed in a navy blue suit and headed out the door. He had just made a mental note to text Darby when his cell phone rang.

  “Detective Sokolov? He’s here. Viktor is here.” Darby said in a panic.

  “Darby? Is that you? What are you talking about?”

  “The Ghostface guy… He’s here. I saw him.”

  Sokolov thought back
to the three hours’ worth of intel that pinned Viktor in Moscow, not San Francisco. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes and he’s in my house!”

  “What?”

  “He’s in my house. He just called from there via Skype and he has taken Natasha hostage. I’m not kidding. You have to get over there, please!”

  Sokolov drove down Geary Avenue a little over the speed limit. He was still confused by Darby’s call. How could Viktor be in two places at once? It’s impossible. The seriousness in Darby’s voice is what gave Sokolov reason to check it out.

  A cacophony of metal on metal jarred Sokolov out of his thoughts. He lost his grip on the steering wheel and his head slammed into the driver-side window. For a split second, he lost consciousness. When he realized he was awake, Sokolov looked around and knew he had been in a car accident. The brown car had come out of nowhere and T-boned Sokolov on the passenger side.

  The passenger-side window was a spider web of tiny bits but he could still see the car that hit him, a Honda. The crumpled hood and rising steam made it a little hard to see the occupants. Sokolov strained to see who they were. He could make out two passengers. One was a young girl who was conscious. She appeared to be screaming for help. The driver, a man, sat still, his bald head hung low. He slowly started to move and lifted his head up looking straight at Sokolov.

  Viktor!

  Sokolov blinked his eyes and shook his head. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he dizzy with shock? He looked back over to the driver and there was no doubt the man sitting behind the wheel, unbuckling his seatbelt, was Viktor Kazapov. He knew it.

  “Viktor, stop!” Sokolov shouted. He drew his gun in case Viktor had similar thoughts. He saw that Viktor was frantic and kicking at his door to get it open. Sokolov reached around and worked to free himself from his seatbelt but couldn’t get it to pop open. “Open, dammit!”

  A crowd had started to gather. He could hear shouting as people tried to help. The whirring sound of emergency vehicles wailed in the distance.

  A stranger opened Sokolov’s car door. “Hey buddy, are you okay? Don’t move, help is on the way,” he said.

  Sokolov reached into his jacket and managed to pull out his badge. “The driver… he’s a… he’s a wanted fugitive,” he mumbled as he motioned toward the other car.

  “What driver?” the stranger asked.

  Chapter 102

  I gathered my stuff and was in my car within seconds but very unsure if I had made the right decision to rush back to The Vic. On the one hand, Viktor had Natasha. God knows what he planned on doing with her. On the flip side, this could all be a trap to get to me. Could he be using Natasha as bait to lure me in? If I was Viktor and I had the opportunity to get us both, I would take it. Natasha was the bait. With the line cast again, I planned on taking every precaution to avoid getting hooked.

  When I turned down my street, everything appeared normal. I drove by The Vic slowly. Nothing stood out. I also didn’t see Sokolov’s car anywhere. Where was he? Should I go inside or wait for him? Hopefully my ringing cell phone had the answer.

  “Darby, it’s Detective Sokolov. You were right. I saw him.”

  “You did? Where? Did you see Natasha?”

  “I got in an accident with him. He got away but Natasha was in the car. She’s fine now. A little banged up but okay.”

  This was all too much. Viktor was supposed to be in Moscow. Suddenly he shows up in my apartment and kidnaps Natasha. And now he gets into an automobile accident with Detective Sokolov, the man who’s been pursing him for years. It felt like a dream, very surreal. It seemed like this guy could do whatever he wanted, even the impossible.

  “Where are you?” I asked

  “I’m at Geary and Presido.”

  “I’m on my way.” I dropped my car into gear and hightailed it over there, careful though not to repeat what had happened to the detective.

  My mind soon wandered and I was thinking about the hitman and how he could be in two places at once. It would have been impossible to fly back and forth just from a timing standpoint. Could there be another person behind the killings in Moscow? Could someone be imitating Viktor? Could that person be the mastermind behind this plan? I wondered what Sokolov thought.

  When I showed up at the scene of the accident, a tow truck was pulling away with one of the cars—the brown Honda.

  I saw Detective Sokolov talking to a couple of cops and headed over. “How are you?” I asked with concern. He had a bandage covering the left side of his temple and I could see bruising and scratching on his cheek and jaw.

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Where’s Natasha?”

  “She’s at the hospital. Don’t worry—only a precaution. Everything is fine. I have men with her just in case.”

  “How is she handling all this?”

  “She is a tough girl. She will be okay. Have you visited your house yet?”

  “No, I was about to head inside but you called and I came straight over.”

  “Let’s go take a look around first, and then we can head to the hospital after.”

  All though there were only two of us in my car, with Sokolov’s giant frame it felt like four people had squeezed in. Luckily for him, we only had a short way to go.

  Chapter 103

  I turned to the detective as we drove and asked, “What happened to Viktor?”

  “He’s gone. He escaped the scene before help could arrive. He’s injured. How much, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe the bastard keeled over and is dead near a sewer drain right now,” I suggested. “That would be awesome.”

  Sokolov let out a laugh and then groaned.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I need a laugh.”

  “Now that you’ve seen him with your own eyes, any thoughts?”

  Sokolov stared out the window. “I don’t know what to say. When I saw him in the car, I thought it’s the accident. Is my head injured? But I realized it was him.”

  “The way I see it, Viktor is in San Francisco, not Moscow. Someone else is killing people there and wants everyone to believe it’s Viktor. Unless someone can definitely ID the assassin, there’s no proof.”

  Sokolov shook his head. “It’s baffling. The intel says he is in Moscow and now we see him here. This makes no sense.”

  “You said the men were killed in a similar fashion to other Ghostface kills, but how do you know it’s not an impostor, or worse, that Viktor didn’t orchestrate this whole thing himself to throw you guys off his track? Don’t you think that’s plausible?”

  Sokolov shook his head. “Someone could be imitating his style, but he’s not easy to mimic. Very few hit men have this skill.” He waved it off. “The killer in Moscow does not matter to me anymore. Viktor is here and he’s after you. We must get to him first. His injury will slow him and aid us.”

  When we reached The Vic, Sokolov led the way in. I had no problem trailing behind my own personal riot shield. I unlocked the front door and the detective slowly pushed the door open. We stopped for a second in the foyer.

  Sokolov whipped around. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” I whispered.

  “A scream.”

  And then I heard it, more like a crying scream. Sokolov motioned to me to be quiet and withdrew his sidearm. The further up the stairs we went, the louder the noise got. When we reached the living room, much to our surprise, there was a woman screaming. Actually she was moaning while bent over an office desk as a janitor gave it to her from behind. I looked over to the couch and sitting there was Tav, fully engrossed in the porno playing on the large flat screen TV. Ralphie was right by his side.

  “Jesus, Tav,” I blurted out, sending him jumping out of his seat.

  “Damn, don’t be sneaking up on me.” Tav blurted.

  “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I didn’t feel so good. I came home. What are you guys doing here? What’s with the gun?�
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  “It’s Viktor. Tav, he’s here in San Francisco.”

  “What? Wait, he’s back in San Francisco?”

  “He never left. He kidnapped Natasha after we left this morning.”

  “Holy shit.”

  I explained the whole story to Tav.

  “Natasha’s fine?”

  “Yeah, she’s at the hospital being looked over. We left a message saying we were on our way but first we wanted to come here for a look around.”

  Sokolov stepped forward. “Do you remember the time you returned home?”

  “Yeah, I got here maybe twenty, thirty minutes ago.”

  “Did you notice anything? Was the front door open? Any windows? Anything out of place?”

  “No, I mean it’s not like I was looking but nothing stood out to make think so… No, everything seemed normal.”

  “What are you doing watching porn with her here anyway?”

  “I thought she was sleeping.”

  “Where’s her room?” Sokolov asked.

  The three of us entered Natasha’s room. The bed wasn’t made and her belongings still seemed to be there. Everything appeared normal, except her absence. Viktor somehow got into the house, grabbed her while she was sleeping and left. There were no signs of struggle or even a break-in. It was like a ghost had taken her.

  When we returned to the living room, the woman on the desk was now on the conference room table and another woman had joined the party.

  “Tav, could you shut that off,” I said motioning to the television.

  “Sorry.”

  “Wait. Don’t touch it,” Sokolov said as he stared at the television. “The women—they are the same.”

  “The Malenga Twins,” Tav supplied.

  “That’s the answer.”