“I’m going to check that out,” he told Anya.
She shook her head. “No. That doesn’t concern us. Focus on Nonna.”
Nick thought for a moment, but another scream from the third floor made up his mind. “No. You stay here. I’m going up.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Give me five minutes,” Nick replied. “Then you come up. If I get in trouble I’ll need your help.”
Anya thought it over. “Two minutes. I’ll stay here. But be careful.”
Nick checked his Glock. “Always,” he said.
The door was closed but Nick knew exactly where they were. The third floor of the house was smaller than the first two due to the roof line. There were only two rooms, and Nick knew whoever was in the house was not in Dmitri’s office.
He stationed himself in front of the other door and waited. The roaring had started in his left ear but he controlled it. He built up the tension in his arms.
When he heard the now-familiar thwack of something hard against skin, and a muffled scream, he kicked the door in.
It all happened in slow motion after that. He took in the sight of Sergei, absurdly dressed in the uniform of the Chicken Shack but with a truncheon in his hand. Against the wall, tied to a metal bed frame turned on its end, was a man. It took Nick a moment to realize it was the furniture store owner. Anton, if he remembered correctly. The man was trussed up by his hands and had blood running down his face. He didn’t look up as Nick burst into the room, but Sergei did.
Sergei’s face was contorted in rage as he turned. Nick could only imagine what Anton had done. Sergei gripped the truncheon in his right hand tightly. He saw Nick and his face transformed into something even uglier, as if Nick was a rodent that Sergei found in a trap, a rodent that Sergei could do with what he wanted.
Sergei advanced on Nick, truncheon held high.
Nick shot him in the left knee.
Sergei went down hard, screaming in pain, blood gushing from his knee through his pants. He dropped the truncheon and grabbed at his knee with both hands, swearing incoherently.
Nick advanced, almost casually, on the man writhing on the floor. He took one look at Sergei’s shattered knee, then stomped on it with all his strength. Sergei howled again, even louder than the first time.
“Shut up, Sergei,” Nick said. He bent down and picked up the truncheon, now lying harmless on the carpet. He looked it over carefully and glanced at Anton as Anya ran through the door.
“I heard the shot, are you OK?” she asked Nick, then stopped abruptly when she saw Sergei on the floor. “Did you shoot him?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nick replied.
“Why?”
“He pissed me off.”
She sighed and glanced at the man on the ground, then over at Anton. She nodded. “What now?” she asked.
“He answers some questions.”
She looked doubtfully down at Sergei. Blood had stained a few square feet of carpet under his leg, and his screams were trailing off into whimpers as he started to go into shock. “You’d better hurry, then,” she said. “He won’t be able to talk much longer.”
Nick knelt down by the bleeding Russian. He held the truncheon in front of him like a microphone and prodded Sergei in the face with the end of it. Sergei looked up, eyes bleary and unfocused.
“Where’s Nonna?” Nick asked.
Sergei just stared at him, a blank look in his eyes. The eyelids started to close. Nick prodded him harder with the baton and Sergei’s eyelids fluttered a bit.
Nick tried again. “Where’s Dmitri?” he asked.
But it soon became evident that Sergei wasn’t going to answer anything. Nick stood up and the Russian slowly toppled over on his side, both hands covering his knee. Blood continued to seep through his fingers.
“We should get him to a hospital,” Anya said.
“We’re not taking him anywhere,” Nick replied. “We can call the police from one of Dmitri’s phones when we get the hell out of here.”
“He could die here.”
Nick shook his head. “He won’t. I missed the important bits. He’ll even be able to walk again, eventually. He’s getting off better than he should.”
“Who’s this guy?” Anya asked, gesturing towards Anton. Anton was in sad condition but much better than Sergei. His head was bleeding where he had been battered and blood oozed down his arms where they had been fastened, none too gently, to the bed frame.
“He’s the guy who owns the furniture store,” Nick replied. He started to untie Anton’s wrists. “Looks like he pissed off Dmitri.”
“Maybe he can tell us something,” Anya said.
“That was my thought,” Nick replied. He finished with the straps and Anton stepped away from the frame, rubbing his wrists. Blood smeared his hands. Nick led him over to where a mattress was lying, apparently pulled into a corner by Sergei before he trussed Anton to the frame. Anton sat down shakily and Anya grabbed a blanket for the blood. She dabbed at his head while Anton pressed the other end against the cuts on one wrist.
“Spasiva,” he said, weakly.
“Do you speak English?” Nick asked him. There was no time to waste.
Anton shook his head. “Nyet,” he replied.
Anya said, “What do you want to know?” She kept pressure on the head wound as she glanced at Nick.
“Where Dmitri is,” Nick said.
Anya spoke softly to the man, trying to calm him as she questioned him. He replied, voice muffled by the blanket on his head. They went back and forth for a few minutes before Anya spoke in English again.
“He said he had trouble paying Dmitri what he owed him. I assume it was protection money. They’ve been taking more and now they are…using…his wife. Anton resisted and…” she shook her head. “Here he is.”
Nick glared back at Sergei, who wasn’t moving. “I should put a bullet in his groin.”
“Yes,” Anya said. She was furious, but trying not to show it for Anton’s benefit. “You should, but we need to leave and call the police. They’ll take care of him.”
“Where’s Dmitri?”
“He doesn’t know.”
Nick groaned.
“But he knows where he lives.”
Two minutes later the police had been alerted. Nick and Anya stopped just inside the back door, Anton supported between them.
“Hold on a moment,” Nick said.
“Why?” Anya said. “We have to leave.”
“This’ll just take a second,” Nick said. He helped Anton lean against a side wall, then ran downstairs. Anya waited an impatient thirty seconds, supporting Anton, before Nick popped up again. He had a large sack over his shoulder and Anya was reminded of Grandfather Frost, even though she knew Grandfather Frost never looked that good.
Nick dumped the contents in the side of the entryway. They made a metallic clang.
“What’re those?” Anya asked.
“Dmitri’s things,” Nick said. “I took them as leverage, then hid them in the basement. I don’t need them anymore. He won’t either. His kids can divvy them up.”
They helped Anton out the door as they heard sirens in the distance.
Ten minutes later they were a few blocks away from the house, passing through a residential neighborhood of large houses. Nick thought of the New Russians. This was probably where they lived.
Nick and Anya were alone. Anton had come around slightly and insisted on walking himself home. He was embarrassed and angry and Nick didn’t want to ask him any more questions. He had been through enough. They had Dmitri’s home address. That would be plenty.
“I wonder how he knew where Dmitri lived?” Nick asked.
Anya looked disgusted. “He had to drive his wife there,” she said.
“Bastards,” Nick mumbled.
“I wish you had shot Sergei in the head instead,” Anya said.
“I needed information from him.”
“And how did that work o
ut?”
Nick grimaced. “Yeah, guess I should’ve popped him in the head. Well, the cops will take care of him,”
“Not if they’re on Dmitri’s payroll,” Anya replied.
That stopped Nick. “Damn, I never thought of that.”
He could sense Anya smile next to him. “No worries. If he’s dumb enough to show his head again, we’ll take care of him.”
“We?”
She shrugged and didn’t answer. They walked a few steps and she said, “So, what’s your plan?”
“Pay Dmitri a visit at his house tonight.”
“I doubt Nonna will be there,” Anya said, quietly.
“I know,” Nick said. “But she’s near and he knows where. At this point my only way to her is through him.”
She nodded. “I don’t have to work tonight,” she said. “Want some company?”
Nick looked at her. “Thank you, Anya. Yes, that’d be great.”
She smiled. “Good. I want to see you and Nonna together one time. Then you can leave and be happy in America.”
Nick put his arm around Anya and gave her a squeeze.
Nick sat down at Anya’s table and pulled out his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“I’m going to beat the bushes,” he replied.
“What? I don’t understand.”
“I’m going to see if I can flush any game,” Nick said.
Anya sighed. “You Americans and your slang. You’re much more difficult to understand than the English, you know.”
“Yeah, and I’m not even a woman.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The call was answered quickly. “Archipenko,” said the now-familiar voice.
“Detective, this is Nick Wallace,” Nick said. Anya’s eyes widened and she quickly sat down next to him. She made a “what the hell are you doing?” gesture with her hands, and Nick shushed her.
“Mr. Wallace,” Pyotr answered. “I must to say, I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to call you, either, detective, but something has come up.”
“Oh? And what has come up?”
“My daughter is gone.”
There was a long pause on the line. Long enough for the hisses and pops to get very loud in Nick’s ear.
“Excuse?” Pyotr finally said.
Nick spoke slowly. “My daughter is missing. She’s no longer at the orphanage.”
“Where is she?”
Nick took a breath. “I was hoping you could tell me that, detective.”
Archipenko sounded confused as he spoke. “I don’t know anything. But I could ask here…” his voice trailed off.
“Dmitri has her,” Nick said.
“Dmitri? How do you know?”
“In retaliation for what I’ve done to him.”
“What, exactly, have you done to Dmitri?”
“That’s not important right now,” Nick said. “What’s important is what I plan to do to him later today.”
“Nick…” Anya whispered. “What are you doing?”
He ignored her. “I’m going to his house tonight. He’s going to tell me where Nonna is, or I’ll kill him.”
Anya put her head in her hands. Archipenko said, “Why are you telling me this?” He sounded out of breath.
“Because I need to know whose side you’re on, detective,” Nick replied. “If you’re with Dmitri, then I want you to tell him I’m coming for him and I want answers.”
“Do you think I work for Dmitri?” Archipenko said. He sounded angry.
“That’s what I want to find out,” Nick said.
“I could arrest you,” the detective said.
“Not yet.”
“I could arrest you tonight.”
Nick shrugged. “You could. But I don’t think you will. If you’re not one of Dmitri’s stooges, then I think you want him off the street as much as I do.”
“I don’t want more killing in my city,” Archipenko said. “There are…other ways to, how you say, get him off the street.”
Nick laughed, a hoarse bark. “And what might those be, detective? A trial? You want me to press charges?”
“Yes. Let Russian law help you.”
“Of course not. For one thing, I doubt I’d live long enough to testify. For another, my daughter will be killed if they even think I’d testify.”
“We can protect you, Nick.”
“But you can’t protect Nonna, detective, and that’s who needs our help.”
“You have to stay within the law.”
Nick rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “You don’t work for Dmitri.”
“Of course not!” Archipenko said.
Nick looked over at Anya. She was hearing it all, a shocked look still on her face.
“Will you help me get my daughter back, detective?” Nick asked softly.
“Yes, I will, but we must do it within the law,” Archipenko repeated.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t happen. If you want to arrest me, be at Dmitri’s home tonight.”
“But—“
Nick clicked off.
Chapter 29
Sergei rested in the hospital bed, heavily sedated, a large bulge around his left knee under the blanket. An IV was plugged into his left hand. His cheeks were pale and his eyes bloodshot. He looked dimly at the figure standing over him.
Mikhail held the cell phone to his ear, vaguely listening to the ramblings of a madman over the speaker. His attention was more on the figure in front of him and what he knew he was about to be asked to do.
Dmitri stopped ranting long enough to take a breath. He said, “Has Sergei said anything to the police?”
“No,” Mikhail replied. “Nobody’s been here since I brought him in.”
“Good. Who worked on him?”
“Friends,” was all Mikhail said. The police weren’t the only ones on Dmitri’s payroll.
“Good,” Dmitri said again, somewhat calmer now. “Is he asleep?”
“No,” Mikhail said. “But he’s not awake, either.”
“No matter. I assume you know what you have to do.”
“Yes.” Mikhail knew better than to hesitate. Not that it would do any good.
“Call me when it’s done.”
“Will do.” Mikhail clicked off and looked at Sergei with something close to pity. He didn’t care for the man but didn’t like taking lives to satisfy the whims of a madman. Unless the life was of the madman himself.
“Sorry, comrade,” he said quietly to Sergei. He turned to the nurse standing silently next to him and nodded. With a sigh, she prepped the syringe.
Anya parked her car two blocks from Dmitri’s house. It was a red Lada Kalina, polished to a brightness that stood out on the street, even in the dim late-evening light.
She locked it from her key fob with a beep, walked a few steps away, turned back to look at the car, then walked back and checked all the doors. She returned to Nick with an embarrassed smile.
“Sorry, I’m somewhat, what’s the word, obsessive about security,” she said.
Nick, preoccupied, barely nodded.
Dmitri lived, not surprisingly, in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in Rostov. Gates stood in front of many homes, and they heard the crunch of leaves as guards patrolled inside the perimeters.
“It’s up here on the right,” Anya whispered as they approached the middle of a block. “I think it’s the dark one.”
Nick peered across the street. Lights burned brightly in the house directly across from them, then again at the house on the corner. The large hulk in the middle was completely dark.
“What time is it?” he asked.
She checked her phone. “Half past nine,” she said. “He’s probably out to dinner.”
“So we wait,” Nick said.
“So we wait.”
They found a spot between two houses across and down the street from Dmitri’s. They sat
down behind a row of hedges, after making sure there were no guards patrolling at either house. Anya pulled a blanket out of her backpack and spread it on the grass. Nick looked at her.
“I thought we might be here for a while,” she said, slightly embarrassed.
They settled back and waited. The heat of the day dissipated quickly and the air became more comfortable. They huddled together to make a smaller target, and so they could talk.
“What will you do if Dmitri won’t tell you where Nonna is?” Anya asked.
“I’d rather not think about that,” Nick replied. His face was grim. “I’m hoping I’ve become a big enough pain-in-the-ass that he just decides to call it a draw.”
Anya’s voice sounded doubtful when she said, “That doesn’t sound like Dmitri.”
“No, it doesn’t. So I guess Plan B is that I beat on him until he tells me.”
She was silent. He sat and thought for a few minutes, vaguely listening to the crickets. “You know, I need to get her tonight.”
“Nonna? Why tonight?”
“Because tomorrow is the last day of the grace period. My contact will be back from Kiev tomorrow.”
“She went to Kiev? Why?”
“Her mother lives there, and I guess whenever Nadia gets paid she drives a care package over to Kiev.”
“Kiev’s a long way from here, in Ukraine.”
“I know,” Nick replied. “Nadia’s been gone for four days, and hadn’t really been around before then, anyway. With everything else going on, it’s probably for the best.”
“She might know somebody who could help,” Anya said.
Nick shook his head. “Nah. More likely, she’d run. She has our money now anyway. All I was supposed to do was visit Nonna every day while she was gone.” He sighed. “Guess I didn’t handle that one too well.”
Anya paused, then said, “You know, there are other babies out there.”
Nick closed his eyes. “Don’t go there, Anya.”
“I’m serious, Nick. There are other orphanages in Rostov. Surely Nadia has connections in other orphanages, and in other cities. A different baby would be much…less complicated.”
Worth The Risk Page 19