Master

by Catherine Taylor

  His disdain to see Jahn became a vicious grin. “Your death has just arrived.”

  Jahn arched an eyebrow. “Really? That’s something I’d like to see.”

  “Be my guest.”

  Gregor stepped aside and Jahn ventured further where he had a view of the crowd and the entrance.

  A black limousine rolled into the building, spreading the spectators to either side. When it had parked, a man got out from the driver’s side and hurried around to the rear passenger door.

  As it opened, Jahn watched attentively to see the occupant, whom he knew would be Sasha Rabinov. His face revealed nothing as a mountain of a man got out, his bulk draped in a black, satin robe which hung open enough to reveal an enormous chest, and pillows of abdominal muscles. The lights reflected off his bald head which merged into an oversized jaw and thick neck.

  Looking toward the cage, he grinned a mouthful of yellowing teeth, and then swept his gaze about the enthusiastic crowd.

  “Where is he?” His question was spoken loud enough for heads to start turning in Jahn’s direction. Following their line of sight, the huge man locked eyes with him and his lip curled.

  “He looks pleased to see you,” Gregor remarked.

  “I have that effect on people,” Jahn grinned. “Must be my good looks, which is more than I can say for him.”

  “I’m sure he’s got some new facial designs planned for you.”

  Jahn eyed him. “I like what I have.”

  He started to return to the fighter’s area, when Gregor stepped in front of him. “Did you hurt her?”

  “Did she look hurt?”

  Gregor was heaving with anger. “Why then?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. You have her back.” Jahn studied him. “And you seem to have a new employer. I was expecting to see Andrei.”

  The distortion in his face got worse. “He’s dead.”

  Jahn stared at him, his adrenaline increasing. “How?”

  “What does it matter to you?” Gregor spat. “One way or another, you’ll be joining him tonight.”

  Before he could respond he heard ‘Jahn Zaleski’ roared out behind him. Turning, he watched Sasha approach, and immediately began to assess his opponent. He already knew that Sasha would be a head and neck taller, and outweigh him by a hundred and twenty pounds. He was more interested in the body mass, the thick muscled areas that would be difficult to penetrate and a skull hard as rock. He walked as a man confident in his size and ability, and with no tell-tale signs that he was slow on his feet.

  Before the meeting of the men could eventuate, one of the security men came running between them. “You have to wait for Mr Makarov.”

  “The hell I do,” Sasha snarled, shoving him aside and continuing to within a few feet from Jahn, where he sized him up carefully. “Take the jumper off. Let’s have a look at you.”

  Jahn looked surprised. “You’ll have to take me out for dinner first.”

  Sasha smirked. “A funny boy, too stupid to be scared, but you should be. This is going to be very painful.”

  “I’ll try to go easy on you,” Jahn grinned broadly, his remark inciting some laughter from the crowd who were pressing in for a closer look.

  “Keep it up,” Sasha scowled, his humour gone. “Smart cunts like you scream loudest.”

  Jahn’s reply was a casual grin, which disappeared as he looked beyond him. Victor Makarov came striding up, a handkerchief dabbing at long, bleeding scratches in his face. For the second time that night, Jahn felt his gut tighten.

  His eyes bore into the man he had waited seventeen years to see. Makarov barely gave him a glance, his attention given to Sasha as he patted him solidly on his back.

  “I trust you had a pleasant night, Sasha Rabinov,” he crooned. “The hotel is one of my finest.”

  “It was adequate.” Sasha looked at Makarov. “You told me I had a worthy opponent and I find this piece of shit.”

  Makarov glanced at Jahn with disgust, before nodding at Sasha. “I’m a businessman, and I take no chances. The former manager tells me this is a man who is dangerous, that took down their champion within a few minutes. I say to myself, that I need the best, and who better is there than Sasha Rabinov? Your history is legendary. This interruption to your life will be well compensated. The betting has been enormous.”

  “The crowd is impressive. I didn’t expect so many in this hole. They’re not going to like me taking down their own.”

  “You do me an honour, Sasha Rabinov.” His glare went to Jahn. “This man has brought disgrace and humiliation upon my family, traumatised and defiled my granddaughter. He has spat in my face, and these fucking miners helped him to do it, and now they’ve put everything on the line.”

  “Then they deserve all they get,” Sasha nodded. He looked at Jahn and saw that he was no longer looking so calm. He was about to taunt him, until he realised that it wasn’t himself that had changed the cool demeanour. The weird, blue eyes were boring into Makarov.

  “Do you know this man, Victor?”

  Makarov looked at Jahn and shook his head. “I’ve never seen him before.”

  “He seems to recognise you.”

  The remark had Makarov peer at Jahn. “Who are you?”

  The thin smile returned to Jahn’s face but he made no reply. Makarov turned towards him and studied him harder. “I asked you a question. Tell me who you are.”

  “Jahn Zaleski.”

  “I know your fucking name,” Makarov yelled. “It tells me nothing. You don’t exist, and believe me, I’ve looked. I want to know why you took my granddaughter.”

  The smile broadened. “She was good fun.”

  Makarov’s face turned red. “You fucking, sick…”

  Sasha gripped his shoulder. “Leave it, Victor. I’ll try to leave him alive enough if you want to talk to him later.”

  His chest heaving, Makarov took a last glare at Jahn and nodded. His eyes lingered, as for a split second, a blurred recognition, something from deep in his memory, was stirred but wouldn’t clarify.

  “I’ll find out who you are, bastard, one way or another.” He patted Sasha’s arm. “Have fun with him.”

  When he was gone, Sasha smiled at Jahn. “I like a man with a personal vendetta. They fight with their hearts, instead of their heads. Makes it very easy for me. I’ll see you in the cage.”

  While Jahn watched him go, he noticed Gregor staring at him intently. “You want something?”

  The huge man continued to stare, his mouth opening slightly as if wanting to say something. Eventually he asked, “What is your beef with Makarov?”

  Jahn smirked. “I have more than one, but nothing I want to share with you.”

  “Andrei said that Lena wanted to be with you.”

  “What happened to Andrei?”

  Gregor’s face distorted again and he shook his head, going to walk off until Jahn called after him.

  “Maybe you should check on her.”

  He stopped and looked back at Jahn, staring and restless. He nodded, “I might do that. Good luck tonight.”

  Alone again, Jahn returned to his secluded corner and sat down on the bench, leaning forward and dragging his hands over his face. Sasha was right. Emotions would kill him. Circumstances were now beyond his control. His only power over anything was what would happen in the cage.

  * * * *

  Sitting in an armchair, Lena flinched as she licked at her cut mouth, and held an icepack against her cheek. She was still shaking, but not from fear. It was a strange, savage feeling, one that she had felt once before, the day she had realised Greta was gone.

  Jahn’s coat was clutched in her lap, and she cuddled it closer, brushing it with her hand, feeling the hard shape of the gun. It no longer scared her, and she dared to imagine what it would feel like in her hand. She would have the power to put an end to her grandfather’s life, but she quailed at the thought. It made her feel sick.

  She slumped further into the chair, sickened by her own w
eakness, her inability to seek the justice that Greta deserved. Jahn was wrong. There was nothing brave or strong in her at all. All the hate and fury she felt, still wasn’t enough to avenge her daughter’s death.

  The door opened and her blood ran colder as her gaze fell on Vera. She stood up, but two of the security men closed in on her. Lena eyed them angrily but stayed back.

  Vera approached but kept her distance. She stared at Lena curiously. “You cleaned yourself up. About time.”

  “Where’s Poppa and Andrei?”

  “You’ll see your father soon enough. The one concession Victor has agreed to, is that you may say goodbye to him.”

  “You betrayed him.” Lena stared at her, confused and angry. “You betrayed me. You told me Greta was in an orphanage.”

  “You brought it on yourself.” Vera yelled. “You can’t look after yourself. How did you expect to look after a child?”

  “I was looking after her. Your sister would have told you. Helga said that I was a good mother. She told me that. How could you kill her? She was a baby, an innocent baby. She was my daughter and I loved her…”

  “I did what had to be done.” Vera screamed back at her.

  Lena shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “You did what your own evil heart told you to do, and how does it feel now, Vera, with your own child inside you?”

  The anguish in Vera’s face was enough. She turned and hurried to the door, only to be pushed aside as Victor strode in with a furious face. He looked at Lena and marched towards her.

  “Who is he?”

  “What?”

  His lips curled in a snarl. “The man you’ve been fucking for the past week. Who is he?”

  “He’s a miner.”

  “He’s no more fucking miner I am. Tell me what you know, Lena.”

  She glared at him. “Nothing.”

  He slapped her face and indicated to his men to take hold of her. Lena panicked and struggled to free herself, but he hit her again.

  The pain soared through her, and she could taste more blood in her mouth. She stopped struggling and licked at her split lip. The pain of her welts in her bottom had also flared up from her movement, but it gave her encouragement. It was like he was still there with her.

  She smiled. “I don’t have to be afraid of you, or what you can do to me. You’ve taken everything I have.”

  Makarov stared at her with contempt. “Not quite. Your man is about to enter the cage and you can come out and watch him die. Of course, I might let him live if you have something to tell me.”

  Lena huffed a laugh. “And you think I believe you? I’ve learnt how I can’t trust anyone, except him. He told me that he would win, and I do believe him.”

  “Believe him all you like. It’s not going to make any difference. Whether he wins or not, Jahn Zaleski will not be leaving this place alive.”

  * * * *

  Approaching the cage, Jahn was barely aware of the thunderous roar of the crowd, chanting his name, stretching out hands to touch him. The lights had gone down in the warehouse, but the cage was illuminated, stark and empty. He climbed through the gates and strolled about the cage, flexing his neck and shoulders.

  Looking beyond the steel mesh, it was too dark to see anything beyond a few rows of spectators. A need was eating at him to know what was going on in the office. He had no doubt that Lena had put the bleeding scratches on Makarov’s face, but why? She was supposed to be safe now. That was the point of all this, but something had gone wrong, beginning with Andrei’s death.

  It was difficult to accept that Andrei’s failure to return Lena had led to his demise. He would have reported to Makarov that the fight was still going ahead. The fact that Makarov had brought in Sasha Rabinov, showed that he was convinced, so why kill Andrei? It just didn’t make sense, but could explain why Lena was upset enough to attack her grandfather. He didn’t want to think how she had suffered for that.

  The sheer numbers of Makarov’s security men was something else he hadn’t prepared himself for. In three years Makarov had grown more powerful than ever. Getting to him would have been highly improbable. Getting away from him was going to be impossible.

  Jahn sighed at his own stupidity. Seventeen years of self-preservation had been undone in one week by a woman, and yet he had no regrets. Lena had taught him more about himself than he had ever known. She was etched on his memory forever; her scent, her taste, her laughter and softness would make a pleasant final thought.

  As the volume of the crowd went up, he knew that it was time to focus. Sasha entered the cage with two attendants in tow, carrying a bottle of water, stripping him of his robe, hovering to await his demands. As one went to rub at his shoulders, Sasha shoved him away.

  “Fuck off, both of you.” He turned to look at Jahn. “Him and me, alone.”

  The attendants hurried out and the gate was shut. Sasha pushed his elbows back, flexing his shoulder blades, as he strolled up and down one side, studying Jahn’s body and nodding respectfully.

  The standing crowd pressed into the mesh, and the noise died down to a low hum of hushed voices. There was none of the preliminaries of an organised match, no announcements, no spectacle, just the tangible atmosphere of excitement and anticipation. Two pseudo referees stood near the gate, should anything out of the ordinary happen, a weapon thrown into the cage or any interference from spectators. The bell was to be rung at three minutes, if they remembered. Other than that, their service was useless in these fights with no rules.

  Up on the balcony, Makarov pulled Lena to the rail. “Where have I seen him before this night?”

  Lena frowned and shook her head. “I know nothing of that.”

  “He said something to you,” he snarled in a low voice. “Was my name brought up?”

  She had no intention of telling him anything about Jahn. “Only when I told him how good you were to me once, when I thought you loved me.”

  Makarov sighed. “I did love you, and I suppose I still do. It’s not all your fault. I should have taken you with me when your mother died. Your father was always useless, but it’s not him I’m interested in.”

  Lena stared fearfully, at Jahn in the cage, pacing and watching Sasha. “Why do you want him dead?”

  “The shame should be enough,” he replied harshly. “But there is a greater concern to me. Nothing exists about this man and I’ve dug deeply. It’s as if all knowledge of him has been erased. There is only one organisation capable of doing this, and I used to be a part of it.”

  “Then why don’t you ask them?”

  “The KGB does not exist as we knew it then. It is much more covert these days, under the guise of new titles, but the old ones still hover about. I’ve had several encounters with their operatives in the past several years. It would be just like them to use you to draw me out.”

  Lena tried to show no reaction. “Maybe you should have stayed away and we would have all been happier.”

  “I have nothing to fear from those old men.” Makarov smirked. “They’re stuck in the past, and I am always two steps ahead of them. Let them send their assassins. They have my men to get past first.”

  The crowd became louder and Lena watched as Jahn and Sasha began to front up to each other. Her heart felt shattered, and she began to think about the possibility of Jahn losing. She looked about, looking for a familiar face, despairing over Andrei’s absence. Her thoughts grew darker

  “Tell me what happened to Andrei,” she whispered, her chest too tight to talk.

  Makarov glanced at her. “He failed me. Now shut up and watch, unless you have anything useful to say.”

  Her mouth closed, her heart hammering inside her chest, her body feeling as if it was turning to stone. She wanted to scream until her lungs burst, but she gripped the rail and sought out Jahn in the ring, keeping her eyes on him alone, the only rock in this madness all about her.

  Tears trickled down as she was consumed by the surge of roaring voices. “Don’t die, Jahn,”
she whispered. “Please don’t die.”

  * * * *

  They were within two feet of one another, sparring with lazy jabs, their bare knuckles meeting with minimal impact. Sasha was grinning, but Jahn’s mouth was set firm, his eyes bright in an impassive face.

  Sasha suddenly threw a solid punch towards his head, missing as Jahn casually ducked under it and was back up as if nothing had happened. The grin broadened on Sasha’s face, but no more punches followed.

  They circled about each other, the sparring resuming, lightly connecting and pushing each other’s fists away, Jahn using his right arm. In a flash, his left came out of nowhere, finding Sasha’s jaw, followed by his right and then left again, three, solid hits to the mark. Sasha backed off, showing little more than mild surprise.

  “We like our left?” he laughed.

  Jahn didn’t reply but began to step faster on his feet, speeding the pace of their movements. Again, the left fist suddenly rocketed solidly into Sasha face, making his head flick back, while a right connected with his ribcage, just under his heart. . The crowd hollered and screamed in appreciation.

  Sasha tottered backwards, his grin gone, and more surprise on his face. “Some iron in the right as well?”

  His hand hovered near his ribs, as if wanting to rub at the spot, but instead he regained his steps. When he was closer, Sasha suddenly spun to the side launching his foot towards Jahn’s groin. The lightning fast kick found nothing but air, as Jahn spun away, seizing Sasha’s arm and propelling him face first into the fence, landing three punches to his kidney at impact.

  With a roar, Sasha threw his bulk back against him, trying to crush him into the mesh, but Jahn was away and clear. Leaning against the fence, Sasha breathed deeply, glaring at Jahn’s cool exterior.