Heart thumping, Nick slowed and crossed the street, keeping the three squads between him and the two visible cops. He pushed through a group of teenage boys standing on the sidewalk under the branches of a tree. They looked at Nick and grudgingly shifted out of his way.
A body lay on the pavement outside the gate. Two cops were kneeling next to it, talking to each other and staring down at the girl. Light brown hair, faded dress, bare feet.
Nick had seen plenty of dead bodies in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the sight of shapeless indignity didn’t move him as much as it used to. He had seen men killed in front of him as they saved his life. But Nick had never seen a powerless, caring woman executed for helping him.
Lauren looked at Nick with reproach from the ground. No, that wasn’t quite right, because her lower jaw was blown off and one of the cops had closed her eyes.
“Where were you, Nick?” she didn’t have to ask. “I needed you, and you weren’t there to protect me.” Nick’s eyes blurred with tears, for which he was thankful because then he didn’t have to look at the sadness in what remained of her face.
He turned away, collected himself, and turned back with what he hoped was a more clinical eye.
She had not died there. One, her shoes were gone. Two, she had obviously been shot from behind, execution style, and victims shot from behind typically do not end up on their backs.
No, she had been killed elsewhere and her body dumped here, as a warning.
And he damn well knew who had executed her.
He felt the roaring start in his ears. He was wrong to hide in his hotel room, he knew now, leaving her out there with them. He should’ve been there, protecting her. She tried to protect him and when she needed him, he hid in his hotel room.
Deep inside he knew how irrational his thoughts were, but he didn’t care. She had tried to warn him, to help him, and now she was dead. Left like a sack of garbage on a dirty sidewalk.
And she had started out like Nonna, in an orphanage. Would Nonna end up like this if he didn’t bring her home? What about the other kids sharing a room in Baby Home Number Four with her?
He watched as one of the officers bent over the body and began to draw a chalk line on the asphalt. As he got to her right hand he made a wide circle around it. Nick realized she was clutching something.
He moved forward, almost on top of the policeman. The cop looked up and frowned at him, but something in Nick’s expression made him back off and continue the chalk line.
In her right hand Nick saw, as clear as a brilliant beacon on a dark night, a message.
Nonna’s red hat was in Lauren’s hand, almost hidden beneath her fingers. Nick knew it had been placed there after she had been killed and her body dumped. It had been placed there as a sign to him.
They knew about his daughter.
The rush of emotions almost knocked him to his knees. He staggered back, then leaned against a tree trunk next to the street. He had the presence of mind to move to the far side of the tree, so the cops wouldn’t notice his panic.
He regulated his breath, which always calmed him in time of stress. Four seconds in, four seconds holding, four seconds out, four seconds holding. Gradually his pulse slowed to merely frenetic and he could think again.
They knew about Nonna. What was their next step? Would they harm her? Maxsim was a psychopath and Sergei wasn’t much better, but they wouldn’t gain much by harming Nonna. No, they would use her as a bargaining chip against Nick. They would block the adoption, and do what they could do to ensure Nick left without her. At least, Nick hoped that was what they’d do. He knew the dangers of applying logic to those who didn’t operate on logic.
Nick felt overwhelmed. But he knew what he needed. He needed a gun.
And he knew just where to get one.
It didn’t take him long to pick up the tail. The man really didn’t know how to stay hidden. Or perhaps he didn’t care, thinking he had Nick on the run. Either way, Nick made him within minutes of leaving the orphanage.
Nick had decided not to visit Nonna after all. It wasn’t much of a decision. He wasn’t going to make her more of a target than she already was. He walked towards the hotel, making sure he stayed visible. He assumed they would pick him up at the orphanage, but to be safe he kept on the path he had taken the previous several days. He veered over a block when he got close to the brothel. No sense in overdoing it.
It was when he cut across the street that he noticed the man following him. Only one this time. Bulky guy. Not tall but broad, like a wrestler. Dark hair in a crew cut. Looked cut and formidable.
The man casually crossed the road in almost the exact same spot as Nick had, about ten seconds behind Nick. If he had been smart he would have trailed from the other side of the street and crossed at the corner. But he followed in Nick’s footsteps and lit up like a beacon.
Nick stopped in front of a few storefronts, pretending to window shop but keeping an eye on the reflection of the man behind him. Nick didn’t see a weapon but he was sure one was there, waiting to come out when the man made his move.
Nick turned down a side street. Trees overhung the street and alleys sprouted out every twenty feet or so, disappearing between tall buildings. An older woman carrying a basket of oranges tottered past Nick without a glance. Behind her the street was empty.
Nick stuck his hands in his pockets and moved fast down the street. He could feel his pursuer getting closer. He knew this would be a perfect place for the man to make his move.
The roaring was back. Nick now welcomed it. It signaled a lethal decision was imminent. Somebody was about to get severely hurt. Or maybe dead.
And at this point, it was time for a lethal decision. It was time to send a message back.
About five feet past the entrance to an alley Nick stopped and quickly turned on his pursuer. The man was about ten feet behind him, coming up fast. He slowed in surprise and the knife in his right hand swung up.
The Russian was as stocky as Nick had thought, with no neck and solid all the way down. Young, younger than he had appeared from a distance. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. That meant no military service. He was obviously trained in something, though, to get that physique. Didn’t matter. Not now. Not with Lauren lying shattered on the road. The man could’ve been Hercules and he was going down.
Nick closed the gap quickly. He easily ducked under the thrust the man telegraphed from a mile away, and let loose with a savage donkey kick against the side of his left knee, the one currently bearing most of his weight.
Nick’s heel slammed the Russian’s knee sideways, bone meeting and then slicing painfully through cartilage, and the man went down with a scream. He grabbed his knee with both hands and immediately forgot about Nick. Nick finished him off quickly with a hard fist to the temple, and the Russian folded onto his side.
The roaring in his ears began to subside.
Nick dragged the heavy, inert body into the alley slowly, perspiring heavily and grunting as quietly as he could. He then went back to the street, found the knife, flicked it open to make sure it was worth taking, and shut it again. A ceramic knife. Black handle, collapsible. Not too large, but quality made. It could come in handy. He stuck it in his pocket.
Back to the alley and a quick exam through the man’s pockets only came up with a smaller blade taped to his calf. Damn. Nick was hoping for more.
Nick needed a better weapon. Back to Plan A.
Nick spent the better part of two hours waiting outside the Café Olymp before he saw Anya. He could have figured out where she lived, but he didn’t want to hand her over to anybody following him, even though he was pretty sure he had eluded them for the moment.
He stepped out from behind a tree when he saw her approach. Anya looked surprised and pleased to see him. At least until he opened his mouth.
“I need a gun,” he told her. “Where’s Andrei?”
Chapter 12
The shop took up a small storefront in a three story
brick building near the Olymp. It was in the center of the building and Nick would have missed it if it hadn’t been adorned with gaudy painted swirls, neon circles, and a large barber’s pole planted out front. “Wonka’s” was painted in huge letters over a large glass window, each letter in a different color. Underneath, in smaller but only slightly less vibrant colors, was, “Real American Candy.” At least there wasn’t dancing, happy candy in the window.
Nick stepped through the door and heard a bell ring somewhere in the back. The small, long room was empty of people but filled with chocolate bars, bags of hard candy, popcorn, and another barber’s pole. Three small tables, each one with a round aluminum top and barely big enough to hold two people, sat ready but empty in the middle of the room. Nick walked in and saw more candy bars displayed under the glass counters.
A small door in the back opened and Andrei walked out, wiping his hands. “Nick!” he called out, a happy look coming over his face. He draped the towel on one of the chairs and extended his hand. “Nice to see you again so soon,” he said. He was once again dressed in a dark sport coat and obviously didn’t care that he looked woefully out of place.
“Seriously, a candy store?” Nick said. “Nice touch.”
Andrei spread his arms wide. “Of course! Everybody’s happy in a candy store. I’ve never once had a firefight here!”
He held up a finger and went behind the counter. “The one video I had as a child was ‘Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.’ You know, that old one with the guy with crazy hair.”
“Gene Wilder.”
“Yes. I watched it every week. I told myself that one day I’d own a candy store.”
Nick smiled. “And here you are.”
“And here I am. Svetlana and I live above the store, too, so it’s easy to get here,” Andrei said as he rummaged around under the counter. He came out with a small colorful package. “Kazoozle?”
“What the heck’s a Kazoozle?”
Andrei turned the package on end. “A filled licorice. Good but sweet. I can only eat one or two before my teeth hurt.”
He tossed the candy to Nick, who caught it with one hand. “Thanks,” Nick said as he glanced at the wrapper. Bright red lettering on a blue wrapper. Definitely made to be noticed.
Andrei motioned Nick to sit down. He grabbed two water bottles from a cooler and brought them over. “Anything sweeter than water with a Kazoozle is just crazy,” he said.
Nick looked around the empty store. “Do you get many customers?” he asked.
Andrei shrugged. “Kids come in after school, but no, not so many customers. Sometimes that’s best.”
Nick nodded. It might be tough to deal with his other line of work while selling Nerds to kids.
“So, I heard you had difficulty last night,” the Russian said.
Nick glanced sharply at Andrei. “You heard about that? How?” He hadn’t told Anya yet.
“I sent two men after you, to make sure you made it home safely.”
A piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “Ahh,” Nick said. “And your friends have something against knees, I assume?”
Andrei leaned back and for the first time looked uncomfortable. “That part was regrettable,” he replied. “I wouldn’t have chosen that course of action. But my men knew your attackers and…took advantage of the situation. Not to worry, though, I had a talk with them and they won’t do that again.”
Nick wondered if any talk had ever taken place, but remained silent.
Andrei looked closely at Nick. “You didn’t have much trouble with them, though. I don’t think we needed to send any protection for you.”
“Perhaps,” Nick answered. “But I could use some protection now.”
Andrei leaned forward in his chair. “Oh? How?”
“I need a gun.”
The Russian’s eyes widened. “A gun? You’re an American adopting a little girl in my country. Why would you need a gun? Because somebody tried to mug you?”
Nick paused. How much to tell Andrei? He could play coy and just say he was nervous after the attack last night, but then Andrei may insist on providing a bodyguard and Nick didn’t need that hassle. Or the Russian could just pooh-pooh Nick’s fears and refuse to help.
So he decided to tell the truth, albeit abbreviated. When he got to his theory that his key lady had spilled the beans about him being alone, Andrei pursed his lips and nodded.
“Yes,” he said. “They make much more by arranging for girls and drugs than they do from keys.”
Nick continued, going through the events at the club last night and ending with finding Lauren dead on the sidewalk, half of her head blown off. He didn’t mention the part about Nonna’s hat.
“That’s a terrible thing,” Andrei said, shaking his head. His voice was low, all joviality gone. “So you think they’re sending you a message?”
“Yes.”
“And you want a gun to send a message back.”
Nick shook his head emphatically. “No. No attacking. I just want to be able to protect myself.” And my daughter, he thought.
Andrei pondered a moment, hand on his chin, stroking the stubble there as he thought. Eventually he got up and walked into the back room. Long moments passed before he reappeared again, this time holding a black handgun.
“A third generation Glock 19,” he said, handing it to Nick. “There are 15 rounds in the magazine, which should be plenty for you to, uh, protect yourself.”
He handed the gun to Nick, who looked it over appreciatively.
“You’re familiar with Glocks?” Andrei asked with a wry smile.
Nick deftly removed the magazine, checked to see it was fully loaded, and clicked it back in. “I’ve been around a few,” he answered.
Andrei sat back down in his chair while Nick continued to inspect the Glock. Eventually Nick looked up, noticed the Russian staring intently at him, and slowly put the gun down.
“This isn’t a gift, is it?”
Andrei shook his head. “I don’t want your money, but there is a certain…opportunity…for you to help us.”
Nick stared back at the Russian, eyes flashing. “You want me to make a hit for you.”
A pause, then, “Yes.”
Nick stood up. “No. No way. I’m not getting involved in anything illegal.” Not unless I had to, he told himself. The thought of risking his daughter and ending up in a Russian jail made him shudder.
“You’re already involved in something illegal.”
“You know what I mean, Andrei. I can’t do this! I’m here for a little over another week, then I go home with my daughter. I can’t risk that.”
Andrei also stood up. Nick had a few inches on him but the Russian was bulkier. Nick certainly did not want to meet him in a dark alley. “That’s what makes this perfect, Nick! You make the hit late in the week and then leave. They’ll never connect you.”
Nick shook his head. The whole thing made him faintly ill and he wished he hadn’t come. He put the gun on the table. “I’m sorry for wasting your time, Andrei. Thank you for the hospitality.” He turned to go.
“Wait,” Andrei called after him. When Nick turned back, the Russian looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put you in this dilemma. Of course I’ll help you. I have another gun that is more suited for…protection.” He disappeared again and came out with a small, silver gun with a black handle. “Here’s an old Czech VZ,” he said, almost apologetically. “Not powerful, but it gets the job done. You can have it until you leave. When you are done, throw it in the river.”
Nick knew the old, small pistol wouldn’t stop much, but it might at least make somebody pause long enough for Nick to get the hell out of wherever he was.
He took the gun warily. “No strings?”
Andrei smiled. “No strings. Anya would kick my ass if I didn’t help you,” he said.
“Thank you, Andrei,” Nick said. He looked the gun over. It was scuffed up pretty bad, and there were only a few rounds, but it
would do.
“Untraceable?” he asked Andrei.
“Even better,” the candy store owner said. “My men got it off one of your friends last night.”
Nick grimaced. Not until this morning had it occurred to him that he should have checked his attackers for weapons. At the time he was stunned from the assault and just wanted to get out before the police showed up. Besides, if they had a gun wouldn’t they have used it? Not if they wanted to remain silent. He sighed.
“That works, then, Andrei. Thank you very much.”
Andrei reached into his pocket. “I have another gift for you,” he said. He pulled out a cell phone and handed it to Nick. It was small, silver, beat up. But it worked, or at least it lit up when Nick flipped it open.
“Call me if you get into trouble,” Andrei said. “Just hold down the number one.”
“Thank you, Andrei,” Nick said, and he meant it. “I appreciate the help.”
The Russian smiled and clapped Nick on the back. “You are a good man, Nick, and Anya likes you. If she likes you, I like you.” He walked Nick to the door. “Good luck to you, my friend. I hope you won’t have to use your new gift.”
Nick left with a wave. Andrei stood inside the door for a long while, thinking. Small smiles occasionally flitted across his face. He didn’t move. Finally he locked the door and walked into the back room, still deep in thought.
Anya reclined against a tree, arms folded, a block away from the candy store. When she saw Nick approach she pushed herself out from the trunk and smoothed her skirt. She fell into step beside him.
"So, did he give it to you?" She asked.
Nick looked sideways at her. He was slightly surprised but not unhappy she had stuck around. The gun made him feel he was getting deeper into...something...and it felt good to have someone to talk to about it. Someone unrelated. True, Andrei was not after Nick, but the man was not exactly an innocent. Of course, Anya was his cousin so she was not exactly an innocent, either, but she seemed to not want to get too close to Andrei’s line of work.
"Yeah, he gave me a gun," Nick answered after looking around to make sure they were alone. "Not a great one, but it’ll do."
Worth The Risk Page 8