“They are to meet tomorrow night for a session. I will find out where, and tell you. I want her . . .” He fisted his hands. “Just clean it up. I can’t . . . I won’t.” Viktor raked his hands over his head, and a long blond strand fell to his shoulder. “I know some of the girls here are young, but damn it. I’m not a child molester for Christ’s sake.”
That might be debatable, but Dimitri didn’t think Viktor wanted his opinion on the semantics of law and minors.
“Give me your word, Dimitri. Give it to me in blood that you’ll handle this matter.”
Shit.
Dimitri straightened from his perch against the desk, grabbed the wicked sharp letter opener off of Viktor’s desk and pricked his finger. “I swear to you, Viktor, I will take care of the matter.” He wiped the knife off on his pants leg, tossed it on the desk, then smeared his blood on Viktor’s palm. “Contact me with a location.”
“I should just let you take her out tonight, but I can’t find her.”
“Do you want her found tonight?” Dimitri asked.
Christ, kids. Why was it, just when he thought he was deep enough in the filth of society, he realized he could still sink deeper?
Viktor stood at the windows and waved him away. “I don’t care what you do. Or when. I just want it done. Please, just . . .” His shoulders rose on an inhale. “Make it fast, clean.”
Viktor’s back was to him and Dimitri didn’t know if he should pity the man or admire him. No way could he sanction the death of one of his siblings, but then his brothers were more white bread and butter than seedy underworld negotiators.
“Yes, sir.” Dimitri turned and walked out of the office, his nose tingling with cigarette smoked laced with the sweet tang of hash.
Grow up in a world of drugs, prostitution, and kills and what the hell did Hellinski expect?
Time to contact Johnno, and he still had to find out who the hell the woman was downstairs.
Kids. Nausea twisted his stomach.
Chapter 4
11:16 p.m.
Raven watched the man leave the club. Carefully, she walked out behind him, weaving through the dancing people. One girl in a sequined top slammed into her and Raven tried not to throw the clearly drunk girl away. Instead, keeping her eyes on Dimitri, she turned the girl around and gave her a small push toward the dance floor.
Her eyes stung from the smoke and she had the impression her pulse matched the beat of the music pumping through the air. Dead good time everyone seemed to be having though.
At the doorway, Ivan asked, “Leaving so soon, babe?”
She only flashed him a smile and pointed to her mark. Dressed in dark clothing, a long black overcoat, he looked the part of a crime boss’s hit man.
“Do you know him?”
Ivan’s eyes widened as he watched Dimitri Petrolov stop by his car. Without warning he said loudly, “Mr. Petrolov! This fine lady here wants to know who you are.”
The man paused and pierced her with eyes, a wicked blue, dark from here, but maybe cobalt? She wasn’t certain. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he studied her and those eyes narrowed. Squinting slightly at the edges. His hair was a bit on the long side and his features appeared even more unforgiving than they had in the photograph she had of him. Her heart did a slow flip. He put his arm up on top of the car and continued to study her, one long languid gaze down her body and then back up to her eyes. One dark eyebrow cocked.
She notched her chin up and stepped closer.
His smile could coax angels to sin. “Does she?” As could his voice, gruff and deep, as if he smoked. He opened his door and gave her wink. “It seems you just informed her, Ivan.”
With that, the man climbed into his sporty BMW and sat for a few moments before the engine purred to life.
She stood there and watched the car. To go back to the hotel or . . .
She turned to Ivan. “Where does Mr. Petrolov live?”
Ivan’s eyes widened. Then his face creased in that same gap-toothed crooked smile he’d given her earlier. “You do not want to go to that man’s place.” He nodded. “Trust me.”
She only raised a brow.
“Really, he’s not a nice man. You don’t cross him. No one cross him.”
“His place?”
Ivan’s eyes narrowed on her. Then he shrugged. “First off, I don’t know. I don’t even know if the boss knows.” He shook his head. “But even if I did, I’d never tell anyone. I value my life way too the hell much to spread that sort of information. Even to a pretty little thing like you, yes.” His gaze ran over her. “Now, you staying out here or going back in? I must know, people want in, lady.”
She sighed and shook her head. “Let ’em in, Ivan. I believe I’ll go back to my hotel.”
Ivan’s smile was one that would probably give children nightmares. “Where’s your place?” He nodded to the black car that pulled away from the curb when the traffic let up. “Mr. Petrolov might call back and ask for it.”
She gave him her own chilling smile and hailed a cab. Turning she said, “Nice try, Ivan, but I’m not that big an idiot.” She hurried to the cab and climbed in.
“Can you follow that black BMW in front of us? But discreetly. Stay at least three cars behind.” She flashed several extra koruna at him.
The cabbie stared at her for a moment, then nodded as he jerked away from the curb and cut off an oncoming car.
One thing was certain. Mr. Dimitri Petrolov was a . . . a . . . Bloody hell. He was dangerous. So was she taking him out or not?
That was the question. She kept thinking of him putting his arm on top of the car. What about . . . Something had been in his hand . . . What?
Bugger it.
The databases had yielded nothing on one Dimitri Petrolov, which she knew was just impossible. No one just appeared on the scene a grown man. She wondered if he’d ever been fingerprinted. A facial scan? She’d have to wait on that.
Chewing on her thumbnail she wondered . . .
The car turned left and her driver did as well. As they waited on traffic, she looked down the street and saw Dimitri’s car was also waiting in the jam.
What was she doing? She’d probably turn the job down, so why was she following him? Well, if she took the job, or needed to know more information on the man, then she had it.
They made several more turns and she realized they were heading into a quieter part of town. Bloody great, he’d probably make them. The traffic would thin and then what?
She watched as he turned down another street, and told the driver to keep going straight. She glanced down the street he’d taken. His taillights came on as he braked. There was a building at the end of the street. She’d come back later. As the driver went past, she gave him the address to her hotel and watched the Prague nightlife blur by outside.
*****
Dimitri drove through the streets without thought. He quickly dialed John.
“What?” John asked without preamble.
“Got a computer?”
“Does Britain still have a queen?”
“I’m sending you a photo.” He blared his horn as he swerved around a car parked in the middle of the damn road.
“Of?”
“If I knew that I wouldn’t be sending it to you. A woman I saw tonight in Nero’s and then she followed me out. I want an I.D.”
“I’m on it.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. “Call me back in twenty. We need to discuss something.”
With that he hung up. Taking a deep breath and maneuvering through the late-night traffic he wondered how he’d gotten caught up in all this shit. He came from a world of privilege, and though he knew his family knew of heartache and suffering . . . they had no idea how twisted things could truly become. How depraved some were.
He wished he didn’t know.
He was tired. He hadn’t been this tired since Green Hell. Twenty days with little sleep, long treks in the jungle,
pouring rain, rationed food and evasion tactics. For whatever reason, since then, everything since, he’d always reminded himself he could have been back in that jungle with the boys wishing for the end of the damn training. It wasn’t so much the training itself as the unknown. The mind games.
But here he was a world away and he’d almost trade places with one of those new Ranger recruits to be able to get out of this hell. God, how long had it been? He was too tired to think. He hadn’t lasted too long with the Rangers. After a couple of missions brought him to the attention of a certain man, he retired and went to work for a different division of the government. And here he was. Still on missions, still evading. One jungle for another.
He shook off the thoughts and paid attention to the world around him.
October in Prague was quiet. The festival was already over, though the atmosphere of celebration still hung in the air as surely as the independence banners and posters reminding all of freedom.
Freedom. Was one ever truly free? He sure as hell wasn’t. Half the people he dealt with weren’t. He wondered vaguely when he’d become so cynical, so jaded. At the warehouse, he checked the mirrors again to ascertain he wasn’t being tagged. He watched a cab continue on straight and felt a prickle along his neck. There had been two cabs that had followed him for a while, then again, maybe they weren’t following him at all.
Paranoia was not always healthy, even if it did keep him alive.
He pushed the button and a door moved aside. He drove his car inside. Automatically reaching for his gun as he saw the man leaning against his other car.
John.
Well, hell.
He cut the engine and climbed out.
“Who’s your target?” John asked, his arms crossed over his chest, his ankles crossed as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Dimitri knew better. John could sit for hours seemingly carefree and at ease and all the while devising ways to eliminate a target, carry out a mission, or simply coming up with an idea for a new lure. John Brasher was a man of many talents.
“We need to talk,” he said, walking past John and pulling his pack of cigarettes out.
“Fuck.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
Once inside, he locked the door and ran a quick bug check. Switching on a portable jammer, he looked at his friend and said, “I’m so sick of this game, Johnno.”
John’s brown eyes narrowed. “We all are.”
Dimitri shook off the thoughts and took a deep drag.
“Those will eventually kill you.”
“If I die of lung cancer later in life, I’ll count my blessings that it wasn’t a bullet in some godforsaken jungle, desert, prison, or brothel.”
“You left out backstreet alley.”
“That too.”
“Quit buggering around, and just say it straight, Ian.” John walked to the window and looked out.
Ian—Dimitri—who the hell was he anymore? He watched his friend and couldn’t imagine the hell John had gone through. Actually, he could. He’d seen it. Had picked John up and beat the shit out of him when he’d threatened suicide. But then, Ian couldn’t really blame the man either.
Watching the man he loved as much as his brothers, he said, “Elianya Hellinski.”
John, dressed in jeans and a dark blue sweater, barely nodded. Neither spoke for a long while. Dimitri finished his cigarette and stabbed the butt out in the ashtray. He sat in his chair, his temple on his fist as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.
John’s shoulders were tight, the muscle in his jaw jumping and the pulse in his temple pounding. Sighing, Dimitri said, “I won’t take this from you.”
Slowly, John turned to him, his dark eyes black with memories. “No, you won’t.”
He remembered three years ago when he and John had worked together for Hellinski. They’d worked together before and their bosses apparently liked the way things went between them. They managed to keep things smooth without causing too many undo problems between their governments over petty issues of agents not working together when they were effectively on the same team. It wasn’t a surprise to either of them when they learned they were assigned this operation. John had been higher up in the ranks, Ian coming in later from a stint in arms trafficking in Canada. John, straight as they came, also rejected Elianya, but she’d turned on him. When John returned to London on business—which was technically a leave so he could see his family—Elianya had somehow followed. They never knew since she’d been in Prague the whole time and no passports had her name or aliases on them sighted at any checkpoints. But then she could easily hire anyone she wanted, and apparently had. Two weeks later John’s pregnant wife had climbed into his car with their three-year-old daughter, Bella, and John’s world had ended in an explosion of mangled steel, burnt bodies, and shattered dreams.
The powers that be removed John, going by Jacob at the time, off the case and reported Mr. Jacob Angelovsky dead. He changed his last name and moved around after that. Hitting one bottom after another. The first year, Ian had worried John would do something stupid, and once he almost had. Ian reminded John that at the rate he was going, Elianya Hellinski would win. If John wanted vengeance then he’d better the hell stay alive long enough to see it through instead of fucking wimping out.
So John had gone back to work behind the scenes. The contact man for many of them. It kept him in the loop where they could watch him, where he still knew what the hell was going on. When Ian needed him to, John was there to help set things in motion so that when they were both of out this godforsaken job, they had something else to do that still exploited their skills. KB Securities served the high-end client with whatever they needed. Bodyguard, security system, secure transportation.
Ian Kinncaid couldn’t wait to get back to the real world . . . or would that just be the civilian world? A world away from shadows and sanctioned killings would be nice. He’d settle for drug- and murder-free, but Utopia was a bit beyond most. Hell, he’d just settle to be Ian Kinncaid again.
“John.” He stood and walked to the fridge, pulling out two bottles of water and tossing one to his partner. “Viktor wants it done as soon as possible.”
John took a deep breath.
“What made the bastard finally turn on her?”
Ian took a drink and set the bottle very carefully on the counter. “The fact she went behind his back and opened up negotiations with the American ring he nixed last year.”
“Woman was never one to back down.”
“No, and apparently her new clients are of a special breed of depraved humans. She supplies them with children.”
John, in the process of taking a drink, paused and then lowered the water bottle, his eyes weary. “Well, we both know she’s not one to start up an adoption ring.”
“No.” He washed the sour taste out of his mouth with a slow drink of water and watched his friend.
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah.”
“You should have let me kill the woman years ago.”
“Should have, but we’d both have been in a brig and you know it.”
John shrugged. “We wouldn’t have left any trace. She would have just disappeared.”
Ian held up a hand. “I don’t want to know anymore. You do what you have to, let me know how I need to help, but unless you really think I need to know, I’d rather not have the details.”
John took a long drink of water before saying, “You mean like you kept the details from me of one Nina Fisher and of course our dearly loved Congressman Burbanks?”
Ian ignored the references to the times he helped rid his family of those who would have harmed them.
“When?” John asked.
Ian looked at his friend. “As soon as possible. I’m supposed to find her and get the deed done.”
“Wonderful.”
Ian thought about how to phrase his words. “I don’t want to just take her out, John. If she’s into kids, I want to know w
ho, where, and when the hell she picked them up. I won’t leave any child in the kind of hell Elianya would provide.”
“Agreed.” John took a deep breath, then sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suppose now would be the time to inform you since it came up, I wasn’t sent to just watch your back, there’s more going on here. What exactly do you know about the child porn ring going on?”
Ian shook his head and stood, the water roiling in his stomach. “What ring? Or should I say which ring?” When he’d first come on this sting, he’d been opened to a world he’d rather have just heard about. Pornography in surplus in dark shadows better left alone, murder, enforced prostitution . . . He’d mentioned once to his superior how he didn’t know how he was supposed to make a difference here. Pete had told him it wasn’t about making a damn difference, but following orders and getting the job done. Mr. Dimitri Petrolov’s job was to move up the ranks in one Viktor Hellinski’s organization. No one cared about the girls, no one cared about the dark aspects. They were all worried that Mr. Hellinski was tied into fronting terrorists.
“What about the porn ring?” he asked with a sigh. “The one Viktor’s just learned of and is so pissed about?”
“One that has a strong base of supplying here in Prague. We think the kids are being taken from low-income families, though that’s still undecided. Some cop in your Connecticut stumbled upon a murder that apparently led to sex crimes. The victim had a computer and all sorts of info on the financial end of a child porn ring. Dots are leading back to here, but it’s still sketchy. However, Interpol and boys from both our governments are wanting this one cracked.”
“Of course they do.” Child porn. Ian closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing the hot sickness would vanish. “You know where I want to be right now?”
John’s chuckle grated across the space. “Anywhere but here?”
“Anywhere but here, any person but me.”
John’s eyes narrowed on him. “You know anything about this?”
Deadly Games Page 5