Master

by Catherine Taylor

  He began to stride toward Jahn and suddenly flew at him. The bald head rammed into his chest, propelling Jahn backwards, until his back crashed brutally into the fence. Sasha was not about to lose him now, and using his weight he pushed his left shoulder into Jahn’s, bracing his legs wide apart. He angled his body to allow several solid punches into Jahn’s unguarded abdomen.

  Jahn ducked his head into his Sasha’s chest and pushed back, his gritted teeth revealing his pain and need to escape. Slowly, Sasha was moved, and the attack stopped as he his arm went around Jahn, needing to hold onto him, his head pushing under the chin.

  For a long moment it was a battle of strength, pushing against one another, legs back and braced, trying to maintain their ground. Sasha’s advantage in size should have dictated the move, but inch by inch, Jahn was sending him back, clearing himself from the fence.

  His body began to slip from the tight embrace of Sasha’s arms, and his forearm went up to press against the thick neck. Sasha tried to keep hold, while turning his head to gasp for air, but his grip slackened. In a split second, Jahn dropped his head lower into his body, seized Sasha and lifted him enough to slam him down on the concrete.

  Sasha’s gaping, breathless mouth showed his agony, but his eyes fixed on Jahn waiting for the attack that should have followed this move. Instead, Jahn moved away, his own pain visible in his face, and the bruising already on his body. Heaving air inwards deeply, he kept his eyes on Sasha, still lying on the floor,

  Someone must have decided it was a good moment to ring the bell, and both fighters looked relieved. Jahn went to his side, while Sasha’s attendants ran in. The huge man got up and swung at them.

  “Get out, get the fuck out.”

  They ran, slamming the gate after them. Sasha stood bent over, his hands on his knees as he calmed his breathing. His head came up, grinning and nodding at Jahn, who returned the sentiment with a lopsided smile.

  They had barely enough time to focus again before the bell rang out. Sasha came in immediately, his jaw clenched hard as he wasted no time in throwing a series of swift, furious punches, missing Jahn’s head each time as he ducked under them. The last of them brought Sasha’s body side on with its force, and Jahn spun back, bringing his leg up high and straight, his foot delivering a savage kick to Sasha’s jaw, snapping his head back. The Belarusian stumbled back, lost his footing and fell again to the floor on his backside, catching himself before his head hit the floor.

  He was quick to recover, bracing for an attack, but Jahn backed off again, walking away, flexing shoulder and neck, a steely glaze bringing eerie calm to his face. Sasha frowned as he got back on his feet, watching the disinterest Jahn seemed to have for him.

  He tensed, ready to spring as Jahn circled back to him. Holding nothing back, he sprinted, his huge arms ready to wrap around Jahn’s body and take him down. Jahn met the attack, but Sasha’s weight won out and they were both down, Jahn striking a blow to Sasha’s face, just as he hit the concrete.

  The impact winded them both, but Jahn was first to recover, rolling Sasha from him and cannoning punches into his head until he could break free. His release came with a solid returning fist to his cheek, and he scrambled away, his vision fogging over as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

  Sasha got up, smirking as he saw the split cheek, and the decent amount of blood on Jahn’s face and mouth. His confidence surged.

  “We’ve played enough, you and me,” he remarked.

  Jahn wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, pausing to look at his swollen knuckles, before returning a cold, angry glare.

  “Are you hurting?” Sasha taunted. “You should be, but I give you credit for taking a punch. Your head is nearly as hard as mine. Next time, though, the bone will smash. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Before they could approach again, the bell rang and they reluctantly returned to their sides, Jahn collapsing to sit on the floor and lean against the cage. He ignored the men behind him at the fence, trying to encourage him, though their tones were doubtful and worried. Nothing mattered now except winning.

  Sasha was coming alive, roaring back at the crowd, his lust for blood surging and his confidence solid. Jahn studied him carefully, the thick skull, the body and muscle, preventing a decent blow. It was the body he needed to concentrate on, the area at the edge of his ribcage, just below the heart, and he needed more than his fist.

  When the bell rang out again, Sasha laughed at the angry faces yelling at him through the fence, casually turning back to fight. Too late, he saw Jahn sprint towards him, leap up several feet into the air, and drive a knee into his chest. At the same time, an elbow came down on his head. Sasha staggered back, the fence stopping him from falling to the ground.

  The pain was agonising, and spots floated in front of his eyes. Panicked, he had to ignore it and get Jahn into his arms, where he could use his weight against him. As if to oblige, Jahn came again, straight for him, but before his arms could close about him, Jahn had hold of his shoulders, leveraging himself as he pummelled the thick chest with his knee repeatedly, until he felt the snap of ribs. Sasha fell back on his arse, his head flying back against the fence, his hands clutching his chest.

  He sat, gasping, staring up at the savage face glaring down at him, knowing that he was finished.

  “Stay down,” Jahn told him.

  Sasha grimaced but forced a grin. “You know that isn’t going to happen.”

  Jahn shook his head. “Losing is better than dying.”

  “We both know that’s a crock of shit,” Sasha laughed weakly, bringing a smile to Jahn’s face.

  His face distorted with pain, Sasha began to inch himself up the fence, clinging on to it, until his expression relaxed. With a huff of amusement he pushed away to face Jahn.

  “Great fight,” he nodded.

  Jahn backed off to give him room, watching Sasha’s body glistening with sweat, as he puffed himself up with the last of his strength. The crowd thundered its approval, cheering both fighters on, but urging Jahn to finish it.

  He waited, allowing Sasha time to change his mind, bemused by his own reluctance to end his life. One more blow to the chest would do it. The ribs were cracked, and a well-placed blow would drive the bone through his heart, but it wasn’t necessary. A lesser injury could end this fight just as well, and without the bloodshed. Sasha could live to fight another day.

  Jahn was preparing to deliver this last assault when Sasha’s head exploded with an eruption of bone, brain and blood. Sasha was dead before his large body crashed to the ground, sending a deathly hush over the crowd.

  Dropping to the ground, Jahn stared at what was left of Sasha’s head, and his heart sank. Sasha had been a worthy opponent and it was wrong that he had been finished with a bullet.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The second shot hit a miner at the fence, hurling him into the wire. The panic rippled out through the crowd, igniting a sudden, violent surge of bodies desperate to escape. Makarov’s security rushed in, but were swamped by frightened men and propelled along with them toward the exit.

  Lying on the concrete, Jahn pushed himself closer to Sasha’s body, using it as a shield. The muzzle flash of the second shot had alerted him to the position of the sniper. He looked over to the gate in the fence and prepped himself to run. He would be an illuminated, open target, but it was now or when the panic died down. This was his best chance.

  Another shot was followed by a loud crash as a structure of tiered seating collapsed, taking a score of miners down with it. As the yells and screams of men swelled to new levels, Jahn launched up and ran, crashing into the gate. Pulling the bolt back, he fell through to the ground outside, recovering quickly to sprint into the fleeing men, pushing through until he was surrounded by them.

  Seeing a large miner, he seized his arm and had an angry, shocked face turn to him.

  “Give me your coat,” Jahn yelled.

  The miner stared for a moment, nodded and slippe
d his coat from his body. He pulled his woollen beanie from his head and held it out. “Take this.”

  Jahn smiled grimly. “Thank you.”

  All he could do now was to keep low and allow himself to be conveyed along with the crowd. The warehouse lights began to flicker to life, and Jahn risked looking over the heads about him, to where the gun had fired.

  Above the steel, skeletal framework supporting the roof, he could see the open skylight, but no sign of any person. Jahn suspected that the sniper had done what he intended, and had made a speedy escape.

  Looking up at the office, he could see no one on the balcony. He could only hope that Lena was away safely. For now, he had to get out, and there were still a large number of security, scrutinizing the miners as they funnelled through the doors.

  Suddenly, a portion of the crowd began dispersing in another direction, into the gambling area. It was an opportunity Jahn hadn’t foreseen, that the need for money would win out over fear.

  The miners attacked the suited men with the ferocity of a pack of wolves. As the first bundle of money went flying up in the air, it sparked a deadly chaos. Guns were drawn and fired, taking three miners down, but not enough to stop the wave of men pouring onto them.

  Jahn found himself able to move faster to the exit, but his eyes were drawn to the carnage about him. A man sat on the floor, holding the lifeless, bloody body of a woman in his lap, a victim to the panic. Other men were helping the injured, dragging them to safer areas, and Jahn nearly fell over the curled up body of an old man. Yelling loudly, he stopped and turned, bracing and shoving away the men behind him, before they trampled on him. As soon as there was a break, he reached down and scooped the old man into his arms and hurried to where other hurt bodies and their helpers were gathered.

  Putting him down gently, he rolled the man onto his back and was relieved to see two frightened eyes look up at him.

  “My arm,” the old man whispered.

  Jahn nodded sadly. “I can’t do anything for you.”

  A smiled drifted over the withered face. “You already did. That was the best fucking fight I’ve seen in thirty years. My money was on you.”

  “I wouldn’t count on collecting your winnings,” Jahn smirked.

  “I’ll look after him.”

  Jahn looked up and saw Oleysa standing over them. She smiled and crouched down, gazing into his face. Only her dishevelled hair showed any sign that she had been caught up in the panic.

  “I saw you when you came in with Lena Petrenko,” she sighed. “You liked her didn’t you?”

  “Have you seen her?”

  Oleysa shook her head and became angry. “I saw her on the balcony with that Russian prick, Makarov, but they were gone when I heard the first shot. There is a rumour that Andrei was killed by that bastard.”

  Jahn nodded. “So I heard.”

  “It’s not right. Andrei was a good man. He had a thing for Lena, and I think she has heard the news. There was a very bad look on her face. You should not have brought her back here.”

  “I’ve made several mistakes lately,” Jahn sighed deeply.

  “And hanging around here will be another,” Oleysa reached out and ran her fingers down his cheek. “I wish it was me that you had chosen that night, but seeing Lena looking so well, the way she looked at you, it felt nice. Almost makes me believe that there are still decent men out there somewhere. Go and find her.”

  Jahn looked at the old man. “I think his arm is broken.”

  “Just go,” she insisted. “I’ll look after him. It seems I trained to be a nurse many years ago. Maybe I’ve found my calling again.”

  “Don’t hang around too long, Oleysa.” He gripped the back of her hair and planted a kiss on her lips.

  She was grinning as she watched him slip away, before turning her attention to her patient.

  Jahn slipped back into the dispersing crowd. Most of the miners had congregated to the gambling area, having overpowered Makarov’s men, and were stripping them of their suits. Money was being collected up and arguments had broken out over who was owed what. He had little doubt there would soon be more fighting, but he had no intention of getting involved.

  He was near the exit when a scream penetrated the shouts and commotion behind him. Turning back, he saw Oleysa being dragged away by several miners. Her body was flailing as she kicked and clawed at them, screaming.

  Jahn cursed, glanced at the exit and then ran back. Grabbing the nearest man, he punched him in the face savagely, breaking his nose and sending him to his knees, screaming. The others backed off instantly, their alarm obvious as they recognised him. Glaring at them, he stretched out a hand to Oleysa, who seized it, gratefully.

  Pulling her up, he clutched her against him as he backed away. “Looks like you get to come with me after all.”

  * * * *

  Victor Makarov slammed down the car phone. “Nobody’s answering. What the fuck has happened back there?”

  Vera clutched her belly, and leaned forward to the front seat. “Victor, I don’t feel so good.”

  “Shut up, woman,” he roared. “You think I don’t have enough to deal with at the moment? There’s a fucking gunman on the loose. We’re all lucky just to get out of there.”

  She looked at him anxiously. “You think an assassin?”

  He turned to face her, but then looked at Lena sitting next to her. “Why don’t you ask her? This was something obviously set up by Zaleski.”

  Lena shook her head. “Jahn did nothing like that.”

  “Nothing that he told you. That arsehole wanted me. I saw it in his face… that face. I know him, the eyes, something.”

  Sitting back, Lena pursed her lips and turned to look out the window.

  Makarov narrowed his eyes at her. “Take a look at my driver here, Lena. His name is Oleg, and he has been with me now for the past two years. His driving skills are exceptional, nearly as good as his methods of extracting information, especially when I am really angry as I am right now.”

  Lena glanced at the big man at the wheel, and then stared back at Makarov. “It wouldn’t bother you to see me hurt, would it?”

  “Not in the least,” he sneered.

  “Why do you even want me with you?”

  “I made the mistake years ago of setting up accounts in your name. I want them back in mine, but I need you to sign them over.” His face looked thoughtful. “Is that what he wants? Is it the money?”

  She looked at him with contempt. “Jahn doesn’t care about money.”

  Makarov laughed. “He really played you for a fool, didn’t he? Did you really believe that a man like that was interested in you? Have you looked at yourself? You’re nothing. Men like him have a different woman every night. Did you never question it, why he had you, while you were spreading your legs for him? It was about me, you idiot.”

  “I know that,” Lena screamed. She grimaced as the words were said.

  His face grew vicious. “What the fuck else do you know? You’ll either tell me, or you will be telling Oleg.”

  “You said it yourself,” she replied miserably. “He was KGB.”

  Makarov nodded solemnly. “I thought as much, but there’s something else.”

  “There’s nothing else,” Lena insisted. “He told me about your filthy money, the politics, and everything, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to arrest you. He changed his mind. He brought me back to be with you. He was going to walk away.”

  He eyed her with contempt. “And you believed that. How stupid are you? Where do you think that gunman came from, Lena? He had it all set up. Do you really believe he would put his life at risk for you? He knew I would never let him leave that place alive, so he planned his escape, and hoped to take me out. He didn’t give a fuck about killing a decent man like Rabinov, or a few miners. The man you care so much about, is nothing but a cold hearted killer.”

  Lena shook her head feebly. “No, you’re wrong.”

  “Am I?” His eyes bo
re into her. “Those accounts are in your name. It would make life easier for him if you accessed them without a fuss. I see now how it was going to go. He would have rescued you tonight, and in your undying love for him, you would have signed everything over. How did he do it, Lena? Did he treat you like a lady? Did he wine and dine you?”

  “Why didn’t he just take me then and get these accounts?”

  “Because he would have had to have a death certificate for me, as the trustee, otherwise he needed both of us. You were used, Lena, in every way he wanted. I’d like to think you put up a struggle, but somehow I doubt it.”

  Her heart was sinking rapidly, but she shook her head. “He was going to give me back to Andrei that day, and it was me that stopped him.”

  “Was it? Or was it just another ploy to convince you of his integrity? How easily did he change his mind?”

  Tears began streaming down her face. “He cared for me.”

  “Of course he cared for you, Lena.” Makarov sighed and lowered his voice. “He needed you alive. You were no good to him dead. He saw a simple, trusting girl and he used that to his advantage. It’s a wonder he didn’t convince you to kill me.”

  Clutching the coat on her lap, she felt the gun within, and she felt sick. How much had Jahn known about her life? Was he already aware of Greta, and how her life had ended? Had this been his plan all along, that she would kill her own grandfather? As she thought about how close that had come to being a reality, Lena wanted to throw up.

  Makarov leaned closer. “Are you getting a little wiser, Lena.”

  “Just leave me alone.” She curled up on the seat and rested her head.

  It was quiet for a while, except for some groaning from Vera. It gave Lena some time to try to sort out the mess in her head, but all she could think about was her baby doll still back in Jahn’s apartment. It wasn’t right that she was there. What would he do to her? Throw her in the trash?

  “I remember,” Makarov shouted, turning back again “The tattoo, the fucking tattoo on his guts, what was it?”