She nodded slowly. “Mikhail will join us when he hears the shots.”
“Good.”
He took a breath, calmed his nerves, checked his gun one last time, and turned to her. “Let’s do it,” he said.
The loading bay of the warehouse was a large, flat area. It was raised four feet off the ground so trucks could back up to it and receive goods without needing ramps. Two forklifts were parked parallel to each other on one side, and several dollies were stored haphazardly on the other. Two men stood near the forklifts, waiting for the two near the door to walk over to them. Nick didn’t know whether it was hubris or inexperience, but they weren’t expecting an assault.
Nick and Anya hit them with careful, measured bursts, two bullets at a time, jackets clattering around them noisily. The two men near the door went down immediately. The other two skittered behind the forklifts like cockroaches in the glare of sudden light. Nick ran after them, not wanting them to get set up. He peppered the forklifts with bullets until he heard a shout. One gun went flying over the side of the forklift and clattered noisily on the ground, not far from Nick’s feet. Seconds later the other gun came flying out.
Anya, right behind Nick, yelled forcefully to the two men in Russian. Nick assumed it had to do with putting their hands up, because immediately four shaking hands appeared over the engines of the forklifts, followed by two stunned faces. Inexperience, Nick decided. They hadn’t even attempted to return fire.
Nick motioned for the two survivors to step out from behind the machines. “Check the others,” he told Anya, pointing with his gun to the two prone bodies by the closed truck entrance. She pointed the barrel of her gun at the ground and walked quickly over to them. The amount of blood on the ground gave him no reason to think they were still alive, but they had to be looked at. She knelt by one and checked a pulse. She didn’t spend much time by the mangled body. She spent less time by the second. She looked up at Nick and shook her head.
Mikhail appeared. He had a smile on his face. “You have no fear,” he said.
“I have fear, I just don’t have time,” Nick replied. “I need to get over to Alexander…“
His words trailed off as he glanced at Anya. She had stood up and was peering out the small access door near the open main loading dock door. He didn’t like her showing her face to the street beyond. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, but before he could get the words out, the door exploded inwards and she disappeared in a cloud of smoke
Ilia watched in shock as his two men—he considered them “his” men now, even though he started the day attempting to bring down Alexander—bled out on the cement of the loading dock. He had been one street over, checking windows, heading south, looking for that damn American, when he heard the gunfire. He quickly reversed direction, ran to the edge of the building he was checking out, then cut across between buildings to meet up with the other two. He saw them inside the warehouse, in front of the half-open loading dock door, but before he could react they both stumbled and fell. A moment later he heard the shots.
He took cover across the street and surveyed the situation. His men weren’t moving. A figure knelt by them, but he couldn’t see much in the darkness of the warehouse so he didn’t fire; it could have been Alexander’s man. The figure moved away.
A moment later a small door opened slightly and he saw a head appear in the crack. He immediately recognized the bitch Anya, the one who was helping the American.
With a snarl he swung his assault rifle towards the warehouse and fired. He was on full automatic. He wasn’t the kind to skimp on bullets.
The dust cleared to show an open doorway where Anya had just been. Nick ran to the doorway as his hand found the selection button on his AN-94. He flipped it to full as he neared the opening, and sprayed bullets across a wide arc across the street. Too late, he saw a figure running away from him, it was to the right of where he had shot, and no bullets hit near the man.
Nick roared as Ilia disappeared from sight. He was tempted to go after the bastard, but Anya was probably hurt, or worse, and he had to check on her. He swapped out a magazine as he ran to the entrance.
The wooden door was still hanging on its hinges, but had several chunks torn out of it from the bullets. Nick stepped over shreds of wood and was relieved to see that Anya had pulled herself up against the wall next to the door. She looked at him, eyes glazed over from shock. There was blood on her jeans, down low on her leg near her ankle. More cuts on her arms and her face. Blood trickled down her neck.
“What happened?” she asked thickly as Nick bent over and rolled her pant leg up. Her lower leg was a mess, but it appeared to be mainly surface wounds. He pulled a few smaller pieces of wood out of her skin, causing her to wince and increasing the amount of blood on her calf. Nick glanced around, but the warehouse was too dirty for any kind of makeshift bandage. He pulled his shirt off, then his t-shirt, and put his shirt back on again. He tore the t-shirt so it was longer and wrapped it around the wound.
“Ilia saw you,” he finally said as he finished tying up the bandage. It wouldn’t last long but would do until she got home and dressed it properly. He wiped the blood off on his pants and looked in her eyes. They were dilated, and she looked woozy. He suspected she had a concussion to go along with the banged-up leg.
“How do you feel?” he asked her.
Anya winced. “Like I got hit by a truck,” she said as he dabbed at her face and neck.
“You’re lucky Ilia was across the street,” Nick said as he helped her sit up a bit more. All of the bullets had hit the door instead of Anya.
She tried to stand. Nick put a hand on her shoulder and held her down. She resisted for a moment but then gave up and sagged back against the wall. She put her hands up to her head and massaged her temples.
Nick’s phone buzzed. He grabbed it and said, “Yeah.”
“I’m coming down,” Pyotr said. “Hostiles are neutralized.”
“Thanks,” Nick said and clicked off. Not all of them were neutralized, but they were safe for the moment.
“How is she?” Mikhail called from across the room. The large Russian glanced over at Nick and Anya but the muzzle of his gun never strayed from the two prisoners.
“She’s hurt, but she’ll survive,” Nick called back. “You good?”
Mikhail nodded and gestured with the gun towards the two men by the forklifts. “Help me tie these guys up.”
They found some rope and quickly trussed the two prisoners to the chairs on the forklifts. The men didn’t put up a fight as Nick tightened the knots. Mikhail silently covered them with his gun. The entire process took less than two minutes, Nick seething the entire time, wanting to get after Ilia. He knew where Ilia was headed, and didn’t want the man to have any time to organize before he hit him.
“I’m going with you,” Mikhail said as Nick worked.
Nick looked up. “I’d prefer you stay here and protect Anya,” he said.
“She’ll be safe here. You’re going to be in more danger.”
“You want to protect me?”
Mikhail shrugged and gave a small smile. “Not so much you as Andrei. I think everybody wants him dead.”
Nick nodded. “And for good reason.”
“Maybe, but he doesn’t need to die. He can still be valuable,” Mikhail said as he looked over Nick’s shoulder. Nick heard a noise and turned to see Pyotr walking towards them. Nick cinched the last knot and stood up to face the detective. He stuck out his hand, which Pyotr clasped in some surprise.
“Thank you for saving my life back there, Pyotr,” Nick said. “I’m very sorry I ever doubted you.”
He swore Pyotr blushed.
“You’re welcome, Nick, and of course I understand why you must be careful.” He glanced over at Anya and the ruined door. “Although I may not have saved your life, just postponed the end.”
Nick nodded as he looked over at the girl. She was still, against the wall, watching them. “I guess that’s all we
can ever do, I suppose,” he said.
“Will you stay with Anya?” Mikhail asked Pyotr.
The detective shook his head. “I must sanitize the area and leave before anybody sees me. I’ve been lucky so far.”
Nick knew what Pyotr meant. The detective was planning to dig the bullet out of the skull of the man he shot and get the hell out of the warehouse before anybody arrived who could identify him. He didn’t blame the guy.
Neither did Mikhail. He nodded. “Yeah, OK.” He looked at Nick. “I’m still coming with you.”
Once the prisoners were secured, Nick and Mikhail returned to Anya. Her face was pale and she was breathing heavily, but she didn’t look to be in shock. Nick was impressed with her strength and resilience, but he knew she wasn’t going anywhere.
He fished the last magazine out of his clothes and knelt by Anya. “We need to leave you here, but we’re not going to leave you defenseless. We’re going after the jackals, and don’t plan to leave any to harass you. You should be safe here,” Nick said. “I’ll be back for you later.”
“And if you’re not?”
He looked her in the eye. He wanted her to feel as confident as he did. He didn’t want her to sit in a dim warehouse, mind racing, wondering where the hell he was, feeling hurt, scared, and alone.
“I’m coming back,” he said. “I’ve already taken care of most of the gang. Ilia and Alexander won’t be anything. Then I come back for you, and then we go get Nonna. Piece of cake. So no worries.”
He got up, brushed his hands off on his pants, and looked down at her. She looked small, leaning against the wall, bandaged leg seeping blood. He would’ve loved to use her, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not in her state.
“Oh, and one thing,” he said.
“What?”
“Please don’t shoot our heads off when we come back.”
Anya smiled as she caressed the stock of the AN-94. “No promises,” she said, voice soft, strained. “Just be ready to duck.”
Chapter 42
Ilia burst into the office. He stopped when he saw Alexander against the far wall, huddled with Andrei. Alexander had his hand on his prisoner’s arm and a gun to his head.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.
Alexander snarled as he stood up, dragging Andrei with him. “Protecting myself in case you failed. Which it appears you did.”
Ilia nodded hesitantly. “Wallace killed the other two. Plus the men in the warehouse.”
“Dammit,” Alexander yelled. “Why can’t you just kill this guy? He’s taking down my entire network! Nobody is that good.”
He stopped and glared at Ilia, a glint growing in his eye. Ilia knew immediately what he was thinking. “No way, boss. I’m not going in with the American over you. That’d be crazy.”
“Maybe you’re crazy,” Alexander growled. “You already tried it once.”
“We need to leave,” Ilia said, anxious to change subjects. “He’ll be coming here next. I’m pretty sure I killed Anya, and he’s going to be mad as hell.”
Andrei’s head snapped up. Ignoring the gun jammed into his side, he leapt forward towards Ilia. Taken by surprise, Ilia barely had time to move before Andrei was on him. Andrei tackled the bigger man, slamming him painfully into the wooden floor. He began to pummel Ilia with his fists, rage in his eyes, spittle coming out of his mouth.
Alexander moved in quickly and flung his arm around Andrei’s throat. He grunted and pulled the man off Ilia, being careful to keep his gun pressed up against Andrei’s neck. Andrei’s hands went to his throat as he tried to pry the strong arm from his neck. His legs kicked out as Alexander pulled him a few feet back.
Ilia jumped to his feet, blood running into his left eye from a gash on his forehead. Now the rage was transferred to his eyes. He took a step towards Andrei, getting ready for revenge.
“No!” Alexander yelled. “I need him alive.”
“We should kill him,” Ilia seethed. He wiped at his eye with his sleeve. “He’s out of control.”
“You can kill him soon, once the American is dead,” Alexander said. Andrei thrashed harder when he heard the words, but Alexander’s arm was cutting off oxygen and he was beginning to weaken. “If he’s coming here—“
His words were cut off by a loud staccato of shots from just outside the building. There were loud pings of bullets hitting metal, and a small explosion, mostly concealed by the sound of the shots.
“The hell?” Alexander asked.
Ilia looked around wildly. He ran to the window and peered out of the corner. “He’s here,” he said, voice rising. “He took out your car.” He ran over to the table, tipped it on its side, and took cover behind the new shelter.
Bullets shattered the large window facing the street, the crash of the glass competing with Alexander’s scream.
Andrei whirled, right fist connecting solidly with Alexander’s temple, cutting the scream off suddenly. It was not a disabling blow, Andrei was too weak for that, but it knocked Alexander off his feet, momentarily stunned. Andrei crashed through the matching window in the back of the room, putting his arms up to protect his head. By the time Alexander got to his feet, Andrei was gone.
Alexander swore. He was running out of options. “Get Gennady,” he yelled to Ilia over the booming sound of more shells hitting, now inside the room.
“No time!” Ilia shouted back. “We need to get out! Come on,” he said. He pointed to the back window. Cursing, Alexander jumped through the window, the glass now lying scattered in the dirt outside. Ilia followed close behind.
Nick looked at the shattered grill and flat front tires of Alexander’s SUV with satisfaction. One escape avenue closed.
After spraying another volley of bullets into the room, Nick raced back to the passenger side of the car. He hacked at the rear view mirror with the butt of his gun until cracked and fell to the dirt. He picked it up, ran over to the wall and knelt by the window he had just fired through. He held the mirror up and angled it through the opening. It wasn’t the best clarity, but he was pretty sure the room was empty.
Mikhail slammed against the wall next to Nick, ready to move in. He waited for Nick’s signal.
Nick heard a pounding and muffled yelling from inside. He turned to Mikhail. “I think they’re gone. They might have headed out the back.” Mikhail nodded and moved out around the corner of the building to track them.
Nick dropped the mirror and crashed through the door, gun at the ready. Swung right, then left. The pounding and yelling continued, now slightly louder.
Nick spotted a door to the side of the room. He ran over to it and put his ear to the wood. At the same time the person on the other side pounded on it. Nick swore and jerked his head back. He shook it to try to get rid of the ringing.
He figured the door was locked but tried it anyway. No luck. He yelled “Step back!” Counted to three, and shot the lock to pieces. The door held so he kicked it in.
He had hoped Andrei was inside, but Gennady stepped into the light that seeped into the storage closet. He didn’t waste time thanking Nick. Instead, he pointed to the broken window in the back. “They went out through the window,” he said. “I heard the crash.”
“How long ago?” Nick asked.
“Less than a minute.”
Nick turned to chase after them, but Gennady grabbed his arm. “I heard Ilia say he killed my daughter. Is that true?”
Nick knew precious seconds would be lost, but he also knew how important the truth was to the father. “No, Gennady,” he said. “Anya is fine. Hurt, but she’ll live. She’s in the warehouse.”
Now Gennady did thank him. He leaned forward and embraced Nick, kissed him on both cheeks. His eyes were wet.
Nick untangled himself as quick as he could. “I have to get Andrei now,” he said.
Gennady nodded quickly and said, “They probably went to the river.”
Nick nodded and headed after them.
It was getting dark.
Shadows stretched out from the buildings and made tracking the men dangerous. Nick went slow and tried to see out of the back of his head. There were many places a man could hide and drop him as he walked past. His neck and spine prickled with anticipation. He wished Mikhail was with him but he hadn’t seen the man since he ran out the door. Nick decided tracking his enemies was more important than finding his ally.
The warehouse fronted the river. He slowly walked along the north side of the warehouse, hugging the wall, until he saw the Don ahead of him. In the dim light the water looked almost black. Three small boats were moored to the wooden pier. They rocked gently in the current. None of them were big enough to carry a large amount of cargo. Perhaps they were used to motor out to ships anchored in the middle of the river and bring in smaller containers. Perhaps they were just used for recreation, although they were a bit beat-up for that. Perhaps they were about to be used as escape vehicles.
Nick crouched next to the wall and tried to peer into the boats. They were low against the pier; the water level must have been a few feet below the pier. They appeared empty, and as a hiding place they were lousy because there was no way to escape if seen. The men were likely elsewhere. He turned his attention to the buildings along the waterfront. The warehouse to his left. A long, narrow building to his right, at ninety degrees to the warehouse. A beached boat was jammed between the building and the river. There was a hole in the front, near the water. It reminded Nick of the capsized boat on Gilligan’s Island. He wished The Professor was around to build something out of bamboo to help him out.
He stared hard at the boat. It was dark against the backdrop of the river. Nick concentrated on the center of the boat, the darkest portion, to acclimate his eyes. The edges faded out. Nick concentrated harder. That hulk was the perfect place to hide, to ambush.
He saw nothing, but he wasn’t convinced. He ran to the back of the boat, away from the Don. Slowed as he got to the rotted wood. He held his gun up, ready to turn the corner to the back side of the boat. He took a deep breath and moved.
Worth The Risk Page 29