by Otho Eskin
“Get out!” I yell. “Out now!” I kick the Walther far from Domino’s dead fingers.
Nina grabs Lucy firmly by the arm. “I’ll take care of her,” she says to me as she rushes Lucy out of the kitchen.
I pick up Lucy’s Glock and the spent cartridge from the floor and place them in my pocket.
We return the way we came, through basement rooms and up the narrow stairs to Nina’s private suite, Nina holding tight to Lucy’s trembling arm.
Talbot is waiting for us, so mad he can barely speak.
“Don’t ask,” I say. “You don’t want to know. Stay with Nina.”
“We leave for the airport in ten minutes,” he says.
“Don’t say a word about what happened,” I whisper to Nina. “Not to anyone until you’re on board your plane and well out of US air space.”
I need to get Nina away as soon as possible. I can’t have an investigation into Domino’s death delay Nina getting on that plane. There’s somebody else, even more dangerous than Domino, waiting for her.
I lead Lucy through the waiting room and down the steps to the embassy’s front entrance, where Bonifacio waits for us at the reception desk. “Call Frank Townsend,” I tell him. “Tell him to come to the Montenegro embassy and take care of Lucy. Now.”
Bonifacio is on his cell phone immediately.
“It was a clean kill, Lucy,” I say. “It was by the book.”
“Fuck the book. Who was that man?” Lucy asks, her voice hoarse.
“He was a hired killer who called himself Domino. He killed Victoria West and, later, Aubrey Sands. There are other victims. Stay here until Frank arrives.”
I return to Nina’s reception area, where Nina and Rick Talbot are waiting.
“Was that man the assassin?” Nina asks. “Was he going to kill me?”
“He’s no longer a threat to you. The assassin is dead, but the person who hired him is very much alive.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Talbot says urgently.
Viktor Savich appears when we get into the garage. “Where did you find her?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Did you have any problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“We must leave now,” Savich says.
“We must get on the road. I’ll drive the lead car,” Talbot says. “And my man will ride shotgun in front with me. Madame Prime Minister—” Talbot gestures as he opens the right passenger door of the limousine with the American and Montenegro flags on the front fenders. “If you please. We’re behind schedule.”
Nina starts to get into the back seat of the limousine, then hesitates. “Marko?”
“Detective Zorn will go with you to the airport,” Talbot says. Nina nods and slips into the car. “Ambassador Lukshich and Mr. Savich will take the follow car, as arranged.”
“We will be right behind you,” Savich says. “We will stay in touch by cell phone and see that there are no problems.”
I get into the limousine with the official flags and take the seat next to Nina. Savich, followed by the ambassador, gets into the second limousine: Savich at the wheel, the ambassador next to him on the front passenger seat. Talbot’s men open the garage doors and in front of us two DC police cruisers are waiting.
Talbot speaks on his radio, then turns and looks at Nina in the back seat. “We’re good to go, Madame Prime Minister. The route has been cleared. We should have you at the airport in forty minutes.”
Talbot turns back, starts the ignition, and we glide out of the garage, the follow limousine right behind us.
“The young woman with you,” Nina asks. “Is she your partner? Will she be all right?”
“I’ll see that she’ll be all right.”
“It’s not over, is it?” Nina asks. “Goran Drach failed this time, but he’ll be waiting for me when I return home to Montenegro.”
“Let’s find out.” I punch in the number of Viktor’s cell phone on my phone. It rings once and the ambassador answers. We’re a block from the embassy now. Traffic is light and what few cars there are have been pulled over to the side of Massachusetts Avenue by our motorcycle police escort.
“Yes?” Lukshich says. “What is it?”
I turn in my seat. The limousine with the ambassador and Savich is four or five car lengths behind us. The space between us growing.
“I wanted to check how you’re doing,” I say.
“We are doing fine,” the ambassador says impatiently.
“You seem to be some distance from us,” I say. “Aren’t you supposed to be immediately behind our vehicle?”
“Just keep moving.”
“There’s something you should know, Excellency,” I say. “Before we left the embassy, I took the liberty of switching the diplomatic flags from one vehicle to the other. We’re riding in the limousine meant for you. You’re riding in the limousine intended for the prime minister. There’s no problem unless Viktor put a bomb in the prime minister’s car.”
I hear a wild shriek.
“This is for Vickie,” I say. “See you in hell!”
Savich screams as his limousine disintegrates in a white fireball.
Talbot floors the accelerator hard and we surge ahead. The police cruisers and motorcycles have turned on their flashers and sirens. I catch one final glimpse of the limousine we were supposed to be riding in, now engulfed in flames. Two police cruisers have pulled over to inspect the remains of the exploding car and its passengers.
“What just happened, Marko?” Nina demands, her voice shaking. “Was that Viktor? The Ambassador?” She holds my hand in a fierce grip.
“I’m afraid they blew themselves up.”
“Tell me …”
“The assassin planted a bomb in the vehicle we were supposed to take to the airport. We were supposed to leave the embassy at 4:10 and it looks like it was designed to explode at 4:20. It went off like clockwork.”
“What happened to Viktor?”
“Viktor Savich planned your assassination and hired the assassin Domino.”
“Viktor was my protector. Why would he harm me? Or you?”
“The man you knew as Viktor … His real name was Goran Drach.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Drach assumed the identity of someone named Viktor Savich, a policeman. Probably somebody he’d murdered. Then he had himself assigned to your security team. Did you notice the bruises on his face?”
“Of course. He told me he was beaten in a brawl.”
“Those weren’t bruises from a fight. Those were from plastic surgery. Probably done several weeks ago. That way no one in your entourage would recognize him. And traveling with your team on your aircraft allowed him to get into this country without going through normal passport control.”
“He was with me every day. He could have killed me at any time. I understand why Goran Drach wanted to get rid of me. But why you?”
“He was under the impression I was responsible for the death of his brother, Mykhayl Drach.”
Nina studies my face intently. “Were you?”
I decide not to answer.
“And the actress. She had nothing to do with my country’s politics.”
“Victoria West was a woman I once loved a long time ago. She was killed to punish me.”
“And Yulia, the code clerk?”
“She read the messages to the embassy arranging for your assassination. Your ambassador was part of the plot. He was the one who saw to it that I was assigned to your protection detail. He was the one who let the assassin into the embassy to trap you in the basement kitchen. Yulia read the messages. That’s why she had to die.”
Nina covers her face with her hands. “That poor girl. That poor, poor girl.”
When we reach the Dulles airport terminal, there’s no lengthy departure ceremony. Talbot wants to get Nina and her entourage out of the country. He and his men hustle the crowd out onto the tarmac and into the waiting aircraft.
I stand to one side. My job here is done.
The crowd thins. Nina Voychek speaks with several men and women who, I assume, are US officials, then she breaks away and strides quickly across the asphalt floor to me.
She rises on her toes and, without a word, gives me a kiss on the mouth, warm and hard, then turns and disappears through the large doors and out onto the tarmac and into the waiting plane.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
We hope that you enjoyed Head Shot, the second novel in the Marko Zorn Thriller Series.
Book 1 is The Reflecting Pool.
Washington, DC politics at its most savage and brutal—with Marko Zorn in the crosshairs of the White House and competing DC gangs
“In The Reflecting Pool, Eskin has created the best crime hero this side of Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch.”
—Jon Land,
USA Today best-selling author
If you have not already read The Reflecting Pool, we hope that you will—and that you look forward to more Marko Zorn novels to come.
For more information, please visit the author’s website: othoeskin.com
Happy reading,
Oceanview Publishing