A large arm swung down in front of him. Attached to the end of the arm was a hammer, some kind of club hammer with a thick head that smashed into the barrel of his gun. The gun was rammed downwards, instantly breaking the strap painfully against Nick’s shoulder. Before he could react, the hammer swung back and slammed into Nick’s chest.
Immense pain flooded Nick’s senses and he knew at least a few ribs were broken. His legs flew out from under him and he landed in agony on his back. Strap broken, Nick’s gun clattered to the ground several feet away, broken, its barrel bent.
Nick glanced up in time to see the hammer coming straight for his head. He frantically moved it to the side and felt the head of the hammer graze his ear before it slammed into the dirt. He reached up and grasped the handle, but stronger hands ripped it from his grip and tossed it in the bushes.
Ilia fell on him immediately, hands at his throat.
Nick grasped at the fingers but they were too strong and leveraged to move. Ilia was straddling him now, and Nick knew it would be only seconds before he blacked out.
His right arm left Ilia’s wrist and jammed into his pocket. He found the ceramic knife immediately, and pulled it out. It was closed. He tried to find the release but couldn’t. His mind was dimming and he began to see stars around the edges. He gave up on the release.
Nick grasped the knife in his fist and jammed the handle into the side of Ilia’s head. Surprised, Ilia turned to look at the source. Nick jabbed again and the handle hit Ilia in the eye. It wasn’t a hard hit but distracted Ilia enough that he took one hand off of Nick’s throat to swat the knife away. He moved his other hand to the center of Nick’s throat.
But one hand wouldn’t be nearly enough to defend against a man fighting for his life. Nick immediately dropped the knife and grabbed Ilia’s left hand. Instead of pulling the hand off his throat, Nick grabbed Ilia’s pinky finger and wrenched it savagely. He felt it break.
Ilia roared, but didn’t let up. His right hand went back to Nick’s throat, but it was now blocked by Nick’s hand.
Nick grabbed Ilia’s fourth finger and broke it. This time Ilia was able to slide his hand under Nick’s hand, and made the fatal mistake of leaning in to finish off the job.
Nick jerked his hands free and slammed them up into Ilia’s face. His thumbs found Ilia’s eyes and he fiercely jammed them into the sockets, popping both of Ilia’s eyeballs out.
Ilia screamed this time, a scream of agony, terrifyingly shrill, and immediately let go of Nick’s throat. Without hesitation, Nick kicked up with his legs, wrapped them around the front of Ilia’s head, and flung him backwards. In no shape to resist, Ilia fell back off of Nick’s body.
Nick was up immediately. He found his knife on the ground, flicked it open, found an open spot on Ilia’s neck, and thrust the blade into it.
By that time Ilia was deep in agony, screaming, writhing, trying to jam his eyes back in his head. Nick doubted he even felt the final cut that ended his life.
Nick held on silently, pressing in, as Ilia gurgled and fell to his side. Ilia’s hands, which had been clawing madly at his eyes, gradually lost their focus. They flapped uselessly a few times, then joined the rest of his body in stillness.
Nick stayed on Ilia for another several seconds, then with a grunt pulled out the knife and rolled off. Subconsciously he wiped the blade on his victim’s shirt. He tried to fold the blade back in, but his hands weren’t working just right. Nick mumbled “Screw it,” and tossed the knife to the ground near his feet.
He sat down hard next to the body. His ribs were shrieking. He stretched out his upper body to ease the pressure and felt around. Yeah, at least two were broken. It hurt like hell, but he’d had worse.
“Bravo,” a voice said. Nick looked up to see Alexander standing over him. At least he was pretty sure it was Alexander. For some reason the man was blurry. Nick’s ribs shrieked again as he twisted to get a better view.
“You really are a talent,” Alexander said. “You know, if you’re willing to join my organization, I’m sure we could find a place for you here in Rostov. Your wife could return, and your son. We could find a comfortable place for the four of you to live.”
It took a second for Nick’s abused mind to comprehend what Alexander was saying. “The four of us? In Rostov?” he said thickly. Oxygen had returned to his brain but it still wasn’t functioning property. Did this guy say four people?
“Yes, I said four people,” Alexander said, and Nick realized he had spoken aloud in his fog. “Andrei told me where Nonna is.” Alexander motioned to the side of him and Nick realized Andrei stood just feet away. He focused on Andrei’s face. The man looked terrified. Panic-stricken. The only thing keeping him in place was the Glock in Alexander’s hand.
“Of course,” Alexander continued. “This just means we don’t need Andrei any longer.” Before Nick or Andrei could react, Alexander turned to Andrei and calmly shot him in the stomach. Andrei grunted, folded over, hands going to the wound, and lurched backwards.
“No!” Nick yelled as Andrei took another step back. The back of his shins hit the small retaining wall on the pier, and he fell backwards into the water.
Nick was up before his mind processed what had just happened. Ignoring the pain in his chest as best he could, he stumbled over to the water and looked down. He could vaguely make out Andrei’s body, on its side, already a few feet downriver. As he watched, Andrei rolled to a face-down position.
Nick jumped in. As he hit the water he dimly heard a shout from Alexander. He sank a few feet until his feet touched bottom, then thrust himself to the surface. The dirty water, which was likely warm but a good deal colder than the summer air, brought him to his senses. He broke the surface and took a big breath, causing more pain in his ribs.
Nick dog-paddled over to Andrei. He slid his right arm under the man, got his face out of the water, and pulled Andrei to him. Using his other arm, he slowly and painfully paddled back to shore. He landed thirty feet downstream, past the pier. Here it was just a concrete walkway along the river. Nick pulled Andrei as far as he could out of the water, but his strength was going. He had to perform CPR if there was any chance of saving Anya’s cousin, but he knew it would be very difficult, if not impossible in his condition. Maybe if he just rested for a moment. Nick gently laid Andrei on his side, face clear of the water, and collapsed next to him.
He heard laughter and looked up to see Alexander standing over him once again. The Russian had followed them downriver, and now walked up to the two men on the concrete. He held Nick’s knife in his hand.
“You’re driven, Nick. I can see that, but I don’t understand your motives,” Alexander said. “I just told you Andrei said where Nonna was, and yet you dive into the water to save him. This vermin who has caused us both so much trouble. Why not just let him die?”
Nick grunted and rolled over on to his side. He slowly raised himself up on an elbow, then to his knees. The pain in his chest had lessened. Even a moment on his back seemed to help.
“I don’t just let people die, Alexander,” Nick said. It took him two breaths to get the words out. “Although I might make an exception in your case.”
Alexander recoiled in mock pain. “You speak that way to me, the man who is going to reunite you with your daughter?”
“Where is she?” Nick asked.
“Will you work for me?”
“Hell, no. But give me my daughter and I won’t kill you.”
Alexander started to laugh again, then stopped. “You know, Wallace, coming from you, that’s a deal I think I should make.”
Next to him, Andrei suddenly coughed. He convulsed and threw up dirty river water. Nick looked over at him, but his attention was firmly on Alexander.
“Where is she?” Nick asked again.
“She’s with Andrei’s girlfriend, in their apartment. Nonna’s been with her since Dmitri and Andrei took her.”
Nick hung his head, feeling the roar build in his left ear. It
quickly traversed to his right. It gave him strength. It didn’t give him courage, but he didn’t need that. Not any longer. He knew he had lost. But he wasn’t going down alone.
He motioned to the knife in Alexander’s hand. “That’s great news,” he said, feigning enthusiasm he didn’t feel. “Can I have my knife, please?”
Alexander looked at the blood on Nick’s knife in distaste. He glanced back at Nick and said, with a neutral expression on his face. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” He raised his arm abruptly and threw the knife in the Don. It landed with a small splash behind Nick. Alexander’s Glock was pointed at the concrete, but Nick could sense the pressure in the man’s arm and knew he planned to use it.
Nick felt The Calm come over him, almost like a warm blanket. He smiled thinly, giving it a few more seconds to store up in his body. When the adrenaline had completely enveloped him, he held out his left hand. “Can you at least give me a hand up, anyway?” he said.
Alexander looked at him suspiciously for a second. He smiled. “I don’t think so, Nick.” He started to bring his Glock up. Nick could see the tendons in his arm tense.
Nick was still on his knees on the concrete. He jammed his right hand in his pocket as he put his left hand on the ground. The left hand gave him leverage to propel him forward.
The right hand gave him a weapon. An ancient, large, serrated, copper Russian hotel room key.
Nick’s right hand flashed in a large arc, the edge of the key scraping across Alexander’s neck. It immediately drew blood, but was not deep enough to be debilitating.
But it shocked Alexander. His left hand came up involuntarily to touch his neck as he gasped. He glanced down at the blood on his left hand, completely forgetting about his right.
Nick grabbed Alexander’s Glock with his free hand, easily turned it around in Alexander’s grip, and thrust it in the man’s gut. He put his finger over Alexander’s finger and pulled the trigger.
The shot was muffled by Alexander’s flesh. The Russian’s body shuddered with the force of the blast as Nick’s right hand recoiled and plunged the key into the gash in his neck.
Alexander gasped again and sagged in Nick’s arms. Nick lowered him to the concrete, both on their knees.
“Wrong answer, Alex,” Nick said in the man’s ear. “Nonna’s not with Svetlana. Andrei lied to you. So we all lose.”
He twisted the key. Alexander stiffened against him, then started to topple over. Nick jerked his hand out of the man’s neck and let him fall to the wet concrete.
Andrei was on his left side, in a fetal position. His face was pale and glistening, hair plastered to his head from the river. His eyes were closed. Nick leaned in close to try to hear breath. He didn’t have much hope.
He opened Andrei’s shirt. It was heavy with blood and river water. The wound was not bleeding much, but it didn’t give Nick comfort. Much of Andrei’s blood was floating downstream in the Don, and based on his color there couldn’t be much left. Water had seeped into the wound, cleaning it. Infection would set in, but it wouldn’t be what killed him.
Andrei eyes fluttered open. He looked towards Nick. It took several seconds for his brain to process that somebody knelt in front of him. When he finally realized who it was, he licked his lips and struggled to find breath.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m s…” His voice trailed off.
“Andrei,” Nick said urgently. He put his lips to the man’s ear. “You have a chance to make it right. Tell me where Nonna is.”
Andrei didn’t move, and Nick was afraid the man had already died. He put his palm on Andrei’s forehead and gently raised his head. Andrei coughed slightly.
“Please, Andrei,” Nick pleaded. “I need to know. She’s my daughter. Please!”
The urgency in Nick’s voice brought Andrei around briefly. He struggled to form a word. Nick leaned in close, ear next to Andrei’s mouth.
Faintly, the sound almost washed away by the swirl of the river a few feet away, Andrei formed one final word.
“Alenka.”
Minutes later, Anya, Gennady, and Mikhail rushed up to the three men, Anya moving as fast as her injured leg would allow. She recognized Andrei on the concrete and wailed as she dropped to her knees, cradling his head to her chest. She cried over her cousin, her tears mingling with the river water on his face. Mikhail stood near her, far enough back to give them a little privacy. He looked resigned and not at all surprised to see the end of his friend. He reached up and rubbed his face in his hands silently.
Gennady looked furious. He glanced at Nick, nodded. He turned his attention to Alexander. He prodded the body with his toe, then looked back at Nick, eyes questioning. Nick held up the bloody key.
The beginnings of a smile on his face, Gennady pulled out his gun. Holding it a foot from Alexander’s head, he sent a round into the man’s temple. The body shuddered but the low-caliber gun didn’t do a lot of damage. Circulation had already stopped in the body, and very little blood seeped from the wound.
Gennady sighed, took out a handkerchief, jammed it in the neck wound until it was soaked solid red, and squeezed it over Alexander’s temple. Rivulets of blood ran down the Russian’s face.
Gennady took out his cell phone and snapped three quick pictures of the ruined head of his competitor.
Then he turned away and began making phone calls.
Chapter 43
The same dark-haired receptionist was behind the desk at the brothel. She looked up as Nick entered. To his surprise, she smiled. She held up a finger and dialed a number. Whispered into the phone briefly, eyes on Nick. Hung up and pointed to a chair.
Nick was too keyed up to sit. He shook his head and moved to one side, out of the way. The brothel was quiet. The murmur of a male voice flowed softly out of a small black radio on her desk, mixing with the ticking of a grandfather clock against a wall. Dim evening sun filtered through blinds on the western-facing windows, but the light didn’t illuminate any women in the room. The couches were empty. The brothel seemed closed.
Nick wrung his hands subconsciously as he waited, more nervous now than he had ever been at Gennady’s complex. He didn’t have to wait long. He heard a door open upstairs, then feet creaking across the second floor hallway. They started down the stairway.
Alenka came into view. Nick’s breath stopped in his throat when he saw who she was carrying.
It had only been a few days since he’d last seen Nonna, but his baby seemed much bigger. Gone were the multiple layers of wool designed to keep her warm on a hot day. Instead, she wore dark blue overalls covering a lighter blue shirt, an outfit they had brought from America. Little pink booties peeked out from under the overalls.
Alenka smiled broadly, and Nick saw tears in her eyes that matched the ones in his. “I prayed you come back to Nonna,” she said. She handed Nonna to Nick, who took her gently and gave his baby a huge hug. He felt a sharp pain in his ribs, but ignored it. He held on until Alenka put a hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” was all he could say.
“You’re welcome,” Alenka replied. “She is good baby. You will love her.”
“I already do,” Nick said.
“I hope she takes bottle from you,” Alenka said. She smiled. “Here, no. Only bottles from women.”
Nick laughed. His body tingled with happiness. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” she said.
“I didn’t know where she was,” Nick said. He shook his head. That was the understatement of the year. “As soon as I found out, I came right over.” He didn’t mention that Anya refused to drive them to the brothel until he changed out of his blood-soaked clothes, he was so anxious to see his little girl.
He shifted Nonna so she was nestled in his right arm, little legs dangling. She turned her head and looked at him impassively. He took it as a good sign that she had not broken down into tears yet.
“You have powerful friends,�
�� a voice said from behind him.
Nick turned to see Nadia, his contact from the adoption agency. He was so wrapped up in Nonna that he hadn’t heard her walk in. He had called her only an hour ago, asking her to meet him at the brothel. He was relieved to see her arrive on time. She was short and heavyset, with thick black hair piled high on her head. As usual, she wore gaudy earrings and a flowery print dress. But she smiled, which made her look perfect to Nick.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Since we didn’t know where you were,” Nadia said, “We were going to cancel the adoption. However,” she added quickly, seeing a quick spasm of panic cross Nick’s face. “We received a call just before yours, requesting that we continue with the proceedings. It came from the judge who oversaw your case, so of course we were happy to oblige.”
Nick smiled. Gennady had come through, as he promised he would. “Thank you,” he said to Nadia. He was sure part of their happiness was due to the fact that they wouldn’t need to return any money to the American adoption agency they had worked with. Plus, several embarrassing questions would now never be asked.
Everybody was a winner.
“Perhaps on the way to the airport,” Nadia said, “You would be kind enough to tell me where you’ve been. Several people were quite concerned.”
Nick shook his head. “I’m afraid you’d just be bored, Nadia. It wasn’t very exciting.”
The door chimed and the three of them turned to see Anya come in. She limped, and her face and arms were starting to scab, but otherwise she seemed in pretty good shape. Her eyes were swollen, and Nick immediately knew she had had a good cry in her Kalina after dropping him off.
She brightened up considerably when she saw Nick holding Nonna. She walked over and put a hand on Nonna’s arm. “I’m very happy to see you with your daddy,” she said in a cooing voice. “He went through a lot to get you.” Nonna looked at her, squirming just a little in Nick’s arm.
“A lot of boring things,” Nick said for Nadia’s benefit. Anya looked embarrassed but Nadia simply laughed. Nick knew she wouldn’t cause any issues. She wanted the adoption to succeed as much as he did.
Worth The Risk Page 30