They walked down a short hallway to a bank of elevators. Everything seemed bright and airy, and Nick had a hard time believing anybody in the building was connected to anything nefarious. He had to remind himself that Alexander was at the top rung of a very nasty ladder of people in Rostov.
They stepped into an elevator and rode to the top floor in silence. The man stood still, facing forward, hands once again clasped in front of him. Nick couldn’t tell for sure but assumed there was a gun inside the man’s suit pocket. Once again he wished he had at least one of his Glocks with him.
With a ding, the elevator stopped at the third floor. The man showed Nick out and pointed to a door in front of them. “There,” was all he said. He waited for Nick to step through the door, then disappeared back into the elevator.
Nick found himself in a large lobby, potted plants on either side, a woman at a desk in front of him. She was middle-aged, with streaks of unapologetic gray in her black hair. She wore a nice business suit with a scarf around her neck. Nick found the scarf surprising, given the heat outside. Fashion has its price, he thought.
She glanced up and smiled slightly when she saw him. She said something in Russian, and the voice confirmed that she was the person on the other end of the phone.
“Mr. Bocharova,” Nick said. He knew she’d know who he was as soon as she opened her mouth.
Her mechanical smile still in place, the receptionist nodded. “One moment,” she said in English. She picked up her phone, dialed a number, and spoke softly. She didn’t look at Nick as she talked.
She listened for a moment, nodded again, and hung up. She turned back to Nick and said, “Mr. Bocharova will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat.” She motioned to two chairs flanking a table across from the desk. The chairs were upholstered and cushy. Nick sank deep into one. It made him uneasy, knowing he’d have trouble getting out of his seat if somebody came through the door with a weapon drawn. He didn’t want to get back on his feet, though. He would appear nervous. Probably not as nervous as he was, he thought wryly, but no sense advertising.
So he picked up a magazine on the coffee table and leafed through it idly. It was in Cyrillic but he recognized the Men’s Health masthead. He made it through the section on Building Bigger Biceps and was just getting to How To Have Fantastic Sex when the door opened. He quickly closed the magazine and placed it on the table.
A man walked through the door. He was short, thin, with dark hair. Nick was surprised to see he only wore an open-collar shirt with his suit pants. Apparently they were informal here in the Bocharova empire.
Nick stood up and discreetly wiped his palms on his pants.
If the man noticed the gesture, he didn’t comment on it. His eyes never left Nick’s face as he offered his right hand. Nick shook it and was surprised at the strength of the grip. The man was stronger than he looked.
“Good morning, Mr. Wallace,” the man said. “My name is Vitali Popravko. I’m Mr. Bocharova’s assistant.”
“Nice to meet you,” Nick replied. It wasn’t nice to meet him, of course. Not even close. He didn’t really want to talk to Bocharova, but he had to. And now he got an assistant while his daughter was out there somewhere. Nick wanted to scream. He gritted his teeth instead.
Popravko led Nick to a small office. It was empty except for a desk, a few chairs, and some filing cabinets. Blinds were open on the window behind the desk but the window faced an inner courtyard. All Nick saw was another building, and no sunlight.
The Russian motioned Nick to sit down in a chair in front of the desk.
“Due to the, ahhhh, sensitive nature of our relationship,” Popravko said as he took a seat behind the desk. “Mr. Bocharova has asked me to begin the discussions with you. We will join him momentarily.”
Nick nodded cautiously. He kept his mouth shut.
Popravko glanced at a sheet of paper lying on his desk. It was next to a laptop, and Nick would have bet ten to one that Popravko had been doing some internet searches prior to the meeting. “So in your phone call to us this morning, you said that you are in Russia to adopt a little girl, and she has gone missing.”
“That is correct,” Nick said.
“We’re very sorry to hear that,” Popravko said. He said it in a way that made Nick almost believe he was sincere. “Please know we had nothing to do with her disappearance. It was apparently handled at a lower level, and we were not kept informed.”
“Are you not aware of what your people are doing?” Nick asked.
If Popravko was offended at Nick’s words and tone, he didn’t show it. “It’s difficult to follow everybody’s movements,” he said. “I’m sure you can understand that, having been in a leadership position in the United States Marines.”
Damn internet, Nick thought. Sometimes it just got in the way. “Yes, I can understand that,” he said. “And I’m sure you know that when my people did something incorrect, I was held responsible for their actions.”
“Of course,” Popravko said smoothly. “Which is why you’re here with me. Now, before you see Mr. Bocharova, I have some questions for you.”
Nick settled back in the chair and nodded.
“Thank you. First of all, we’d like to understand what happened with Dmitri Kopolov. As you may know, he was found dead in his house just a few hours ago.”
Nick nodded again. With their resources, he knew any lies would be uncovered quickly, perhaps instantaneously, and then his one remaining link to his daughter would be severed.
“I killed him,” he said simply.
Popravko seemed surprised at Nick’s honesty. The Russian was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out what to say next. “Surely you understand how serious a situation you are in,” he said.
Nick leaned forward. “Yes, I do,” he replied. “And surely you understand how desperate I am. My daughter is missing and right now you are the only people who might know where she is. And now you tell me that you are unaware what Dmitri was up to?”
Popravko held up a hand. “I said we were unaware. We’re aware now, and it’s my hope that we can help you.”
Nick settled back, not mollified. “How?”
“All in due time, please. So, why did you believe Dmitri took your daughter?”
“We’ve been having some issues with Dmitri and his people for several days,” Nick said. “It escalated to the point where Dmitri took Nonna.”
“And why would he do that?”
“I was pissing him off.”
Popravko smiled thinly, quickly. “I can’t imagine. So, you confronted Dmitri at his home. How did you know where to find him?”
“I didn’t,” Nick replied. “He found me. I made myself visible and he picked me up.”
Popravko pursed his lips for a moment, looked hard at Nick, then made a note on the paper. He shook his head faintly as he wrote. Nick could almost hear the Russian curse Dmitri in his head.
“He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Nick said. Popravko didn’t glance up, but he smiled slightly.
He finished what he was writing and tapped his pen on the paper several times as he thought. Finally he looked up and spoke. “So, you are taken to Dmitri’s house, you ask him where your daughter is, and he says…”
“He said to go screw myself. Just not as nicely.”
“And you were able to kill him and injure two bodyguards by yourself?”
He was obviously fishing, and just as obviously knew the answer. Nick would have been surprised if Dmitri’s house didn’t have multiple security cameras in it. “No,” Nick said. “I had help.”
Popravko showed no surprise. “Russian help?”
“Yes.”
“And why would this person help you?”
“She’s a friend.”
“Does this friend have a name?”
“Yes, most definitely,” Nick said. Popravko put pen to paper, then raised the point off the sheet with a sigh a few seconds later when it became evident Nick wasn’t abou
t to divulge the name. He didn’t pursue it, for which Nick was glad. He didn’t want to bring Anya in on this, not unless he had to. And even then he’d think hard about it.
“What else?” Nick asked.
“Pardon?”
“I’m on a schedule. Ask your questions or get out of my way.”
Popravko nodded, letting the comment pass. “Did Dmitri say anything else to you or anybody else before he…ahhh…expired?”
Nick thought back to the frantic few minutes in the house. “No. He pretty much freaked out when I got there. He said Nonna was with an associate, and—“
Vitali Popravko suddenly leaned forward, interest on his face. “An associate? He used those words? No names?”
“No name, just ‘an associate.’” Popravko looked disappointed. Nick stared at the Russian for a long moment before it came to him.
“Oh, my God,” Nick said. “He’s been double-crossing you. You have no idea who he’s working with, do you?”
Chapter 33
Popravko was gone for several minutes. When he returned he ushered Nick into Bocharova’s office without a word.
The office was classy. Plenty of light, abstract paintings on the wall, a desk that was beautiful without being gaudy. A television was perched in the corner, tickers running across the bottom of the screen while a blonde anchor mouthed silent words.
Nick took it all in within seconds, before turning his attention to the man behind the desk.
Alexander Bocharova looked the part of a high-end entrepreneur. Dark hair slicked back with just a bit of gray at the temples, white shirt immaculately starched. Gold cufflinks. Nick had never seen cufflinks in person before. He really couldn’t think of a good reason to wear them.
Alexander motioned for Nick to sit. Nick took a seat across from the Russian and looked at him expectantly. Alexander gazed back at Nick for a moment, then said, “Can we get straight to the point?” His voice was deep, refined, reminding Nick of a politician on TV. Nick had to remind himself that, for all of his trappings, Alexander was a mobster. A high-end mobster, but a man who dealt in drugs and prostitutes.
Nick nodded slowly. “Yes, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Alexander leaned forward and clasped his hands together on the top of the desk. “You need something from us, something quite important to you,” he said,
“Yes,” Nick replied.
“We also require something from you, something important. Information.”
“You need to know who Dmitri was working with.”
“Yes,” Alexander replied. He looked slightly embarrassed. “We wish to know who Dmitri was working with.” He stressed the second word, making it clear that they didn’t need the information. But Nick knew better, or Alexander wouldn’t be playing nice.
Nick started to open his mouth, but Alexander cut him off with a wave of his hand. “The ‘why’ is not important. Yes, he’s dead, but we need to know what he told his, how did he say it, his ‘associate’. And we need to know what his associate plans to do with the information.”
Nick shook his head. “I’d like to tell you, Mr. Bocharova—“
Bocharova cut him off. “Please, call me Alexander. We’re on the same side here, I believe.”
“Thank you. I’d like to tell you, but I really don’t know.”
Alex frowned. “Surely you heard something. It sounds as if you had several altercations with Dmitri.”
“I did. Well, mainly with his people. But I never saw him with anybody else.”
Alexander steepled his fingers. “That’s a shame. And he didn’t mention anything about the person who took your daughter?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Alexander sighed. “It will be difficult to get her back, then.”
“If you don’t know any more about this person than I do, then you’re right. Maybe we can talk to his people.”
“The few you left conscious, yes. We’re talking to them.”
“But since you were willing to meet with me, I assume they don’t know much.”
“True,” Alexander said. “Dmitri never did trust people.”
“If he was double-crossing you, I can understand why he kept his mouth shut.”
“Yes. Unfortunately for you.” He paused and looked closely at Nick. “I understand there is a policeman asking questions about you.”
Nick stiffened. “You seem to be well-informed, Mr. Bocharova.”
“I make it a point to know what’s going on in my town.”
“Then you’ll know that he has nothing to go on,” Nick said. His ears began to feel hot.
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” Alexander said. He sat back in his chair. “You know, there are ways for the police in Rostov to find out things.”
“I’m sure. But if I can tell you who was working with Dmitri…”
“Then the police will never know what happened to Dmitri.”
“You’re a real bastard,” Nick said.
“I’m a realist, Nick,” Alexander replied smoothly. “You’ve been dealing with Dmitri’s people quite successfully so far. Now you just have to point your talents at his associates.”
Nick froze. His face suddenly tingled. “What did you say?”
For the first time, Alexander looked uncertain. “I said, you’ve handled Dmitri’s empire quite successfully. Normally I’d be upset that you’ve taken down my men, but as it turns out, you did me a favor. Now you just have to finish the job.”
Nick barely heard Alexander’s last words. His mind raced, breath coming out of his mouth in short gasps. Alexander looked at him with interest.
“You thought of something,” he said.
Nick shook his head quickly to clear it. It didn’t work. “No, not really,” he said automatically. He had to get out of there. He felt like he was going to throw up all over Bocharova’s fancy desk. “No,” he said again. “But I may know where to look.”
“Tell me, Nick,” Alexander said in earnest. “I have the resources to help you.”
“No,” Nick said. He softened his tone. “I need to do this. Alone.”
Bocharova leaned forward, all friendliness gone. “If you know something, Nick, I suggest you tell me now. It’ll be easier on all of us. “
Nick stood up.
“And you’ll get your daughter back in time,” the Russian said. “I don’t make war on babies. I want her to go home with you.”
“I’ll get my daughter back,” Nick said. “And I’ll solve your problem.”
“No. Tell me what you know,” Bocharova spat as he stood up as well. Nick now saw the mobster within the man, the part of him who propelled him to the top of the food chain. Nick knew Bocharova was not a man to be underestimated. But he had no plan to underestimate him.
“No,” Nick said. He was about to tell Bocharova to trust him, but he know how that would go over. “Give me some time to check out an idea. I’ll call you in two hours.”
The Russian took out a business card and wrote on the back. “Here’s my personal cell number. Use it. Don’t give it to anybody else.”
Nick took it and shoved it in his pocket. “Two hours. And don’t follow me.”
Bocharova nodded. “But if I don’t hear from you in two hours, I’ll find you. I don’t make war on babies, but I have no trouble with men who cross me.”
“You’ll hear from me,” Nick said. He left without another word
When the door closed behind Nick, Alexander took out his phone and dialed quickly. He paused, then said, “The American is leaving. Follow him. Stay well back so he doesn’t see you. Tell me where he goes.”
Nick pulled out his cell phone at the same time. Anya answered on the first ring. “Are you OK?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nick replied tightly. He didn’t want to say too much. “Where are you?”
“At the KFC down the street from you,” she said.
“OK, good,” Nick said. “Stay there. I need to lose a few goons on my tail.”
; “Bocharova’s having you tailed?” she said. She sounded concerned. “Did you see them?”
“No,” Nick said. “They’ll be good. But they’ll be there.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s something that bastard Bocharova would do. I’d do it if I were him. Give me about twenty minutes.”
“OK,” Anya said. She sounded doubtful. “Call me if you get in trouble. I can drive over and get you.”
“Bad idea. They’ll know your car then. Stay still and stay quiet,” Nick said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
He cut the call before she could protest any further, and headed west, towards the river. He knew how he’d lose them.
The two men followed at a discreet distance, one on each side of the road. They walked casually, not looking concerned, glancing in store windows, but the American never looked back. He walked purposefully towards the river.
He definitely was on to something.
Nick spied the market ahead of him. He had been there before, a lifetime ago when he was looking for souvenirs of her homeland for Nonna to have as she grew up. He had bought a blue and red Moscow Football Club scarf at a kiosk in the market several days before. It was in a bag in his hotel room now. He hoped he would see it again.
The street he was on began to slope downwards as he approached a busy intersection. Nick saw the first kiosks of the market ahead, in the sunlight. These were the newer sellers, the ones who had to hawk their wares in the hot sun of the Rostov summer. The more prosperous sellers were the ones under the road.
It was a large marketplace, almost entirely under the intersection. The tunnels branched out in multiple directions, with at least four exits, maybe more. Nick had found four the last time he was there. At the time it was damn annoying. Now it may be a lifesaver. He doubted there were four people following him.
He disappeared underground.
The two men behind him cursed. As Nick disappeared from view, one ran across the street to the other. “What do we do?” the junior one asked breathlessly.
Worth The Risk Page 22