Ian shook his head again. “No, but then we’re just learning of it.” How in the hell had he missed this? Was this Elianya’s brainchild? Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. He sniffed and looked out at the night. “What else do you know you’re not telling me, John?”
“Well, apparently this is one of the largest, most lucrative rings the guys have ever uncovered. Everyone wants it stopped so they’re tapping all their resources.”
“And that includes me.”
“That includes you.”
John cleared his throat. “There is also the deal with the hit on you, and of course your mystery woman in the photograph.”
God, he’d forgotten all about the woman. “And? You know who she is?”
John frowned and rubbed his forehead. “Where did you say you saw her again?”
He watched John carefully. “I told you, she was in Nero’s tonight. I saw her watching me when I walked in. She watched for me while I met with Viktor and then followed me out. Asked Ivan who I was.” He narrowed his gaze thinking about that cab.
John nodded and continued to rub his forehead, wrinkling the skin. His sigh slumped his shoulders. “I know her.”
“What?”
“Right there in front of our fucking faces all this time and no one ever noticed. Never. I hope to God I’m wrong on this.”
“I’m tired, I have to find Elianya tonight and I don’t have time to figure out what the hell it is you’re talking about.”
John sat forward, his elbows on his knees, the blue sweater bunching. “The woman in that photo is a woman I once worked with. She did a stint in both MI5 and MI6 and she was bloody wicked.”
“So what is she doing here?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”
“What do you hope you’re wrong about, John? You think she’s Raven?”
John shook his head. “Nothing is certain and I don’t want you shooting her if I learn she’s come back in to work, or even if she’s investigating the porn rings from another angle.”
He arched a brow. “So then she’s perfectly harmless.”
“There is nothing harmless about her. Watch your back.”
*****
Raven sat on the bed in her hotel, now in jeans and a black sweater. She knew where he lived, or had an idea. Why else would he drive all the way out there?
Girlfriend? From accounts he had none. A meeting? Probably not in a residential section of the city. Then again, anything was possible.
So was she taking this job or not?
She sighed and nibbled on her thumbnail, listening to the traffic whir below.
Truth? She knew she was probably going to turn this job down. B-Widow had never given a reason for the hit and until she had it, there was no way Raven was just carrying it out. Which was dumb considering the fact the price had gone up to five million euros.
But if someone wanted him eliminated to that extent, one had to wonder why.
The hell of it was, she was too curious to just leave this alone. She knew. She had to find out what was going on, and if a hit had been put on one of the good guys she’d rather know and warn him. For now, she’d put B-Widow off again on the fact she was doing research and still deciding and wanting until the end of the week. Should be no problem.
Dimitri Petrolov was cocky, that was for certain, but if he’d taken her photo, then what? She knew he held something in his hand earlier that evening as he’d studied her. Everyone and their bloody grandmother could take a digital photo these days with nothing more than their mobile phone, or a camera that fit in their palm. It really complicated jobs like hers. If she hated anything it was a bleeding complication.
Sighing, she clicked on the email to answer B-Widow. Finishing that, she grabbed her leather jacket, her pack with all the essentials in it, and hurried out. Time to scout the last place she saw the BMW.
*****
October 31, 12:20 a.m.
Elianya read the message on the computer. Damn. Why would the assassin take so long in deciding? She should have gone with a lesser known, someone more into the simple money, few would turn down a job for several thousands, let alone five million. And if Raven turned her down?
Anger licked quickly through her. Then Elianya would use a backup plan. Backups were wise, she knew. Anything could go wrong at any time, and at this point in the venture she couldn’t afford for it to go wrong. Let her brother raise his empire on his old prostitutes, drugs, and occasional arms deal. She . . . she had other ties, other vices she’d exploit, and damn if she wasn’t creating her own empire. She knew she was already as wealthy as her brother. While she’d acted the business minded sister who wanted to do nothing more than open her own boutiques, she’d been running another much more lucrative business.
And it was time to take out the competition. Checking her watch, she knew she’d have enough time to get done what she needed and head out to Kladno. She had clients coming in and wanted to make certain they received all they needed. Then it was to her house in Cheb, the lovely little Baroque town house she bought fully furnished. Then tomorrow night she was meeting Leos for a photo session at her other business studio in Cheb. Busy busy.
She clicked off the stereo, killing Mozart floating on the air. Quickly, she picked up her long white ermine coat and slipped it on, pulling her hair free.
Grabbing her briefcase, she left her office and hummed as she planned how to end the tension between herself and her brother.
Chapter 5
October 31, 12:30 a.m.
Elianya told her driver to wait and climbed out, hurrying into Nero’s. Of course Viktor would be here at Nero’s. Was it any wonder the man was falling behind? He’d become complacent.
She winked at Ivan with a smile she knew promised more—not that more would happen. He was a loose end she needed to tie off. Ivan had placed the bug in Viktor’s office here, but his use was at an end. At least after tonight.
Inside, she walked straight to the staircase, cursing a young idiot who almost spilled a glass of red wine on her coat. Her heels clipped up the stairs. She ignored Viktor’s two guards and stalked down the hallway.
How to play this? Staring at the door, she willed tears to her eyes. Blinking more moisture she opened the door. “Viktor?” She forced a tremor in her voice.
Her brother, his hair queued back, dressed immaculately as always, stood staring out the window on the floor below.
“Come in, Elianya.” His voice was flat, but then why wouldn’t it be? He was trying to kill her.
She started to cry. “Viktor, I n-need your help.” Quickly, she shut the door behind her and locked it.
“What do you need help with?” Still he didn’t turn around.
Would he kill her? Probably not. If he was going to, he would have done it himself and not asked Dimitri to do it for him.
She took off her coat. Didn’t want to get it dirty now, did she? Very precisely she draped it over the leather chair by the door. Still she left the white leather gloves on.
“I’ve gotten . . .” She sniffed. “I’ve gotten into trouble, Viktor.” She walked to his sideboard and thought about pouring herself a glass of cold vodka, but decided against it.
Obviously some would think she would have committed the deed, but then, she’d buy those off, or fuck them off. Either way, she’d do what she had to.
She turned and walked to his desk, as she had countless times, pouting as he turned around and letting the tears shimmer on her eyes.
Men were so easy.
His amber gaze, so like her own, studied her with a weariness that only stirred anger within her. He shook his head and sighed, sitting behind the desk.
“What, Elianya? What do you want now? What have you done now?”
She quivered her lip and chin. “I thought I could make us more money, Viktor. I only wanted to make you proud.”
“So you always say.” He tapped his fingers on his desk and watched her.
She
picked up the letter open and put it down, picked up his pen and twirled it.
“I don’t mean to cause you trouble, Viktor. Honestly, I don’t. I only want to make you proud of me . . .” She let the last trail off in a quiver of fresh tears.
Again he sighed and put his hand on her knee. “Elianya, I know you don’t mean trouble, but you always cause it. I love you and I’ll always be proud of you.” His mouth tilted down at the corner and his eyes narrowed. “I find I lack pride in many of your schemes.”
The bastard was lying through his teeth. She hopped off his desk and leaned over to kiss his cheek, noting how he stiffened as she leaned close. “I love you too, brother. I am sorry I disappoint you, though.”
She dropped the pen back to the desk and picked up the letter opener. As if not thinking, she fiddled with the object in her hand. Nice and sharp, wasn’t it? But then she planned for it to be. She’d have only one chance. Some things one hired out for and others one carried out. This she would do all her own.
Elianya stood looking out at the crowd below, the few straggling up the staircase, those surrounding the small tables talking and laughing of whatever people talked and laughed about. Perhaps that table there was talking about their day, the group of ladies laughing about men? Though really, what was to laugh about men? Men were really such sad creatures.
Women, women were the strong ones and always had been. She knew that, hell, she proved it. The group of young boys pointed to the girls at the next table before leaning close to one another and laughing. Another man pinched a woman’s ass.
Here it was almost midnight and the place was still on a good leg. Give it another hour and things would deteriorate. There had been sex under the stairs, she knew, she’d done it with several of Viktor’s guards, heavy petting under a table, drugs passed as if they were candy.
To some it may seem wild and vice-ridden. She saw the potential for more. Prague was still such a simple city, its old world charm, friendly attitude, belied by the nightlife fun many could have, that many sought.
A shame she hadn’t moved to Amsterdam years ago. But business was business and though she might better feel at home in the Netherlands city, she also knew the need would grow and spread. Why open shop when there were already plenty saturating the market? No, she waited. Waited here, learned her brother’s contacts and used them when the time came.
She almost smiled.
Turning, she saw her brother watched her. “What?”
He tilted his head, his gaze running over her, his hands laced over his middle. “What happened to you? Where did I go wrong, Elianya?”
She frowned as if confused and cocked her head. “What are you talking about, Viktor?”
Stupid man.
She inched closer to him, and closer.
He shook his head. And she burst into tears.
“You think there is something wrong with me. I know it. I always knew it,” she sobbed.
The look of confusion on his face, the wrinkled brow almost made her smile.
“I should just kill myself and save everyone the trouble,” she muttered, pointing the blade at her wrist.
Viktor reached for the knife, and when he did, she grabbed hold of his hand and looked into his eyes. “Please, please help me, Viktor.”
His eyes narrowed and she brought the knife up, plunged it into his gut. He gasped. She twisted the blade and shoved him back into his chair. Leaning close she whispered, “There is no helping me. I only want what you have, brother and promiňte,” she said, apologizing. “But, I have to kill you. I’m sure you understand. It’s just business after all, and be honest, you ordered my own kill.”
His eyes widened and blood pooled at his mouth. He tried to reach out to his desk. She stabbed his arm, excitement coursing through her. Many believed stabbing was a man’s sport, but she was finding she liked it.
Freud would undoubtedly argue, but really, what did a knife have to do with a penis. It was merely a weapon. One she found she liked.
“Now, now, you don’t want it to end too soon. I have a present for you, after all.” She turned his chair to face the computer, but left him away from the desk so he would not be able to hit the alarm he’d installed. With a few quick taps on the keys she opened her own file. “Now look here, Viktor. You remember that man you trust so much with all your business . . .” A photograph of Dimitri Petrolov popped on-screen. Then it faded into another photo of him but with different hair, then again into another man with a blond beard. The pictures changed from one to another until she clicked the cursor on her favorite.
She watched her brother blink, cough. “What . . . is . . . this?”
“This is my parting gift to you. You might not know these, all these are the same man. Can you guess who?” She glanced at him, saw more blood pooling at his mouth. “No, guess not. Mr. Petrolov, or whoever he claims to be, is a mirror.” She walked behind his chair. The metallic scent of blood teased her nose. Leaning close, she said, “An illusion. My sources tell me he’s with a government agency. Either the Americans or Brits. Very sketchy.” She chuckled. “Of course, I plan to uncover all the truth.” His complexion had gone white, and rage glittered in his eyes. She laughed. “You want another secret? Some of your hits he never even carried out. He faked them.” She licked his ear, then whispered, “He lied to you and he betrayed you.”
She straightened, saw the blood on her white gloves, and plunged the blade into the side of his neck while he was too busy studying the photo of the man in black fatigues with an assault rifle.
Standing behind and to the side of him, she jerked the letter opener free. Blood splattered across her white-gloved hand and shot in a stream across to their right, arcing across the wall. She tossed the letter opener into his lap, hurried around the desk, pulled off her stained leather gloves. Carefully, she dropped them into her purse and donned her white coat. Looking at her hands, she noted they were mostly clean, and with the sleeves of the coat, no one could see the sleeves of her suit. At the doorway she paused, checking her reflection in the mirror. Her braid was still in place. She pursed her lips and wiped a small red speckle off her cheek. She grinned and then chuckled.
In the mirror she could see her brother’s body twitch. Stupid devil. His problem with her had been that he’d always underestimated her. The room reeked of blood and she turned.
The letter opener had slid in so easily after the first break of skin. She’d always loved the feel of a blade, the warmth of blood. A shiver danced down her back.
Shrugging, she walked to the corner of the room and pressed the hidden button in the light sconce. A small panel opened. She opened her purse, took out her key ring complete with the little flashlight attachment, and pressed the center, lighting the dark passage beyond. Elianya stepped through, pressed the switch on this side, the door swooshing shut behind her.
She walked down the hidden spiral staircase her brother had built into the wall in case the need ever arose, her heels clicking on the stairs. Place needed airing. Her nose tingled from the dust. The passage opened in an alcove in an employee area off the bar. The music thrummed through the air. She quickly closed the panel behind her and walked through the small room filled with boxes, bottles, and glasses. She pushed through the door as the bartender turned to shout at her before recognizing who it was. He nodded to her and she winked and smiled at him.
“Keep up at this pace and you’ll draw a hefty wage in tips alone, my friend.”
He grinned and set three glasses on the bar.
She strolled through the crowd without a care in the world.
Well, there was a care. His name was Dimitri Petrolov, or was at the moment.
Outside she leaned close and whispered to Ivan, “Tomorrow meet me at the regular spot.”
He smiled slowly and nodded as she walked to her car, still parked at the curb. Once inside she told her driver to head to her house in Kladno.
*****
Raven sat in a car she stole from the car p
ark of the hotel. It was a sporty little Audi, gray and loaded. The owner shouldn’t miss it until morning, and if it was reported before then, well, a stolen car would be nothing new.
She wasn’t about to have a cab sit here, rack up a price, and then have to explain as to why she wanted to sit here. Strangely enough people tended to remember things like that. Lights off, engine cut, she sipped the black coffee she’d picked up at a coffee bar.
She’d crossed the Vlatva River back into the Malá Strana, or Lesser Quarter. More open space and gardens over on this side. Old aristocratic homes lined the streets with the exception of a few modern additions, of which the warehouse-industrial building seemed to be. In her rearview mirror she could see the lighted walls of the castle.
There was no sign of a black BMW, but she waited anyway and was finally awarded because she’d been watching the second level.
Lights shone in the windows upstairs and shadows, silhouettes of at least two men, occasionally crossed in front of them. One she clearly recognized as Dimitri Petrolov’s, whether from his profile or something in his carriage, she knew not. She only knew he was inside.
So with whom was he meeting?
There. He crossed from one window to the next, turned back and back again.
Pacing, was he? Then he stopped. He stood now, in the light of the window, looking out before turning back to his guest.
Five million?
Since when did anyone in their right mind turn down five million because of a bloody instinct?
But she knew if she took the job and the money and later things arose that told her she’d made a mistake, she didn’t know if she could survive that a second time. She barely survived it the first time.
Her phone beeped. She glanced at it. Nikko.
She chose to ignore it.
Raven watched the shadows and wished she had a way of hearing what they were saying. At least she knew where to find the man.
Deadly Games Page 6