by Jack Parker
"Okay remind me, 'cause I don't remember," Victor whispered gruffly. "Are you good at plans, or incredibly fucking terrible at plans?"
"Relax," Emery replied. His eyes remained scanning the group of men standing outside the van, who were muttering to one another and pointing their way. "This is better than our original plan anyway. We're being taken straight to the source."
"I can't believe you think that's a good thing."
"I played Hunter for years. I can play these people, too. Just trust me, Victor."
"I don't. I don't; not even a little bit."
"Alright. Then prepare to be impressed."
The doors opened and both of them were snatched out of opposite sides. Emery complied as he was pushed along first towards the open back door of the building. Dave was standing nearby, stammering to the door guard. "B-be careful. They're crafty. And dangerous. They almost killed me."
Emery gave Dave a hard look as he was pushed past him. "I'm very disappointed in you, Dave."
Before Dave could muster a reply, Victor was pushed by him in tow. "Yeah, you suck, Dave."
He gaped after them as they disappeared, expression a mix of confusion and indignation.
Emery absorbed every detail he could about the enclosure surrounding him. The building looked as though it was a lounge of sorts, or at least once had been. There was a stage in the back, tables and chairs scattered before it, but on most of those tables sat stacks of cash and a few men separating it into piles. Bricks of white powder sat on others, being tucked away into black duffel bags. All eyes in the room landed on him and Victor at least once, glowing with suspicion. "Get moving," the voice behind him snapped, kicking his heel and forcing him to keep pace. He kept on walking until he was made to stop outside a curtained-off room in the back. Eddie came to the front of the group and slipped inside while the others waited.
Emery steeled himself in the meantime. He would have to be very convincing this time around. Time to play every card he had. Not only did his goal depend on it, but now so did Victor's life. He looked up as Eddie returned. "Bring 'em in."
Emery and Victor were ushered through the curtain. At the other end of the well-lit room a man sat in a chair, an armed guard standing to his right. He was middle-aged, blonde, and in rather good shape. Victor stopped short behind him, resisting immediately as he saw this man. "Oh shit," Victor blurted.
Confused, Emery looked between them. Then the blonde man leaned forward, eyes narrowed and an intrigued expression on his face as he pointed the finger of one terribly scarred hand at the two of them. "Ah…" he began with a heavy Russian accent. "Now here are two faces I did not think I would be seeing again."
Chapter 7
Like most developmentally normal people Victor stopped pissing his pants at around two years old, but as he stared across the room into the eyes of infamously savage nutjob Aleksei Ludkov, it damn near convinced his bladder that he was twenty-eight years younger.
Of course. Of course it would be Ludkov. He really should have fucking seen this one coming. Who else would Eaton be smuggling shit into the country for but his good old psychotic Russian pals? This was most assuredly the end of the line and he attempted to convey as much with the grim look he shot to Emery. Emery simply blinked at him with perfect innocence before turning back to Ludkov. "Have we met?" Emery asked brazenly.
Ludkov smirked and sat back, rubbing his chin. "No, not exactly. I think that your friend here remembers me, however. Isn't this so, Mr. Scott?"
Boy did he ever. Victor swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and averted his gaze.
Emery looked down pensively for a long moment, clearly working something out. Then he slowly looked back up, lips parting. "…You're Ludkov."
Now do you see how fucked we are? Victor thought spitefully.
"That is correct," Ludkov affirmed with a nod. He looked to the men who had brought them into the room and shooed them away with a gesture, leaving only himself, Emery, Victor, and his bodyguard in the room. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Mr. Eaton?"
Victor wanted to tell him not to, but ever quick on his feet, Emery easily maintained his original story even in the face of imminent death. "As I'm sure you've guessed, I'm not here on behalf of my stepfather."
"I have guessed this, yes."
"That's because he doesn't know I'm here." Emery paused for a moment. "I didn't know that Hunter had any affiliations with men like you until I was abducted, you see. I knew he'd go to any lengths to get me back, but I never suspected these sorts of ties. I thought him entirely lawful. No offense meant."
Ludkov shrugged.
"After all was said and done and I was returned to him, there was no hiding it anymore. I knew his true wealth and where it really came from. Ever since I was a young boy Hunter's always told me that I'd be taking over his affairs when he died. I only thought it right he tell me everything, but he won't talk to me about this no matter how hard I press him. So I decided I'd find out what this was all about on my own. Then I could confront him with the details and he'd have to cut me in. If he wouldn't, well…I thought perhaps I'd make my own alliances. There isn't much pride in living off an allowance in your adulthood, after all."
"Mm," Ludkov hummed with another nod. "So money is what you are after then."
"Yes."
Ludkov gave Emery a rather terrifying smile—the sort that the cat gives the canary. "Money is a funny thing, is it not?"
Emery said nothing, giving a hesitant expression.
"Especially when family is involved," Ludkov continued. "Your stepfather, for example, was willing to pay a vast amount of his wealth back to the men who gave it to him in exchange for the retrieval of his missing boy. This was done for him. But money, it cannot buy everything, can it? It cannot buy a son's love. Or his loyalty."
Emery frowned thinly. Victor didn't like where this was headed. Ludkov could definitely sense the lie.
"This lesson I think your stepfather learned. He has not been himself lately, you see. He has been more…careless. Sloppy. Is bad for business. Even his company is not doing so well. Did you know this?"
Emery kept tight-lipped.
"This is something that we first noticed those two years ago. He has become a…what is that word in English? A man who is scarcely seen. A spider is named for this."
"Recluse," Emery supplied flatly.
"Yes, that is it. He has become a recluse. Dealing with him has become difficult. So, as is natural, we became concerned. It is interesting that you come to me with this offer, Mr. Eaton. It is interesting because a year ago I was prepared to present you with this very same offer. An alliance with the Eaton heir. However, when I attempted this, Emery Eaton was nowhere to be found. As if he disappeared. As if he ran away."
Emery's expression became severe. "I see."
Ludkov held up two fingers. "There are two things I want to know. The first is whether or not your kidnapping was staged. This is merely curiosity. The second is what you are really doing here…and I am afraid the truth is rather compulsory this time around."
Victor nervously gauged the two of them as they faced off. He prayed that Emery wasn't about to try another lie, but would that really be worse than the truth? Frankly that would just sound even more unbelievable.
Emery sighed quietly. "Alright," he said calmly. "No, my kidnapping wasn't staged. I suppose I can understand why you might think that, seeing as how I'm being accompanied by one of the men involved at present, but as Mr. Scott can attest, that wasn't my idea. …However it was very fortunate for me at the time. I'd wanted out from under Hunter's control for years and there didn't seem to be any way to do it until I was carted off and ransomed. I convinced my captors to cut me a deal—in exchange for upping their asking price to a few hundred million, they would refuse to return me and instead let me go. But that bit all unraveled after the Russian mob ambushed them during a payment drop."
Ludkov's eyes drifted briefly to Victor before quirking a br
ow.
Emery continued. "I think you're well aware of what happened from there on. I was blamed for this debacle and it was decided that I be returned to my stepfather anyway. But one of the other men who'd kidnapped me, he…he wanted to keep our alliance. He agreed to help me."
Ludkov pulled a cigar out of his jacket pocket and began pulling off the end. "Yes. I think I remember this man. He was purported to be working for Eaton himself."
"He was," Emery agreed. "Just not for the Eaton you thought."
Ludkov gave a somewhat impressed face before producing a lighter. "This is a fascinating trip down memory lane, but you have not yet answered my second question."
"I was just getting to that. I have reason to believe that this man, Kurt Gabler, is in a great deal of trouble. I suspect that Eaton's tracked him down. But two years after having run off I can't exactly just knock on his door and ask him. I need some sort of leverage. I need to surprise him. I need you, Mr. Ludkov, to facilitate this."
Victor didn't know whether Ludkov was going to shoot him or laugh himself to death, but the man did neither, staring at Emery emotionlessly. "And why is it you care what Eaton does to Mr. Gabler? You are a free man already, yes?"
"I owe it to him," Emery said quickly. "He risked his life for me. He's my friend. I think Hunter knows I feel this way and that he's using Kurt to lure me back to him."
"So you are on a rescue mission," Ludkov decided.
"Yes."
"This is very noble," Ludkov huffed. "But what you are asking of me, it is…not so smart. You are wanting that I betray a very lucrative partnership, and for what?"
Emery reluctantly gave his offer. "One hundred thousand pounds."
"One hundred thousand pounds." Ludkov nodded.
"I'm not asking you to betray him," Emery insisted. "All I want is the opportunity to speak with him. I just want to know what he's done with Kurt."
"And what will you do to him if he does not tell you?"
Emery paused. "I can get more money than that."
Ludkov shook his head. "Yes? Where will this money come from? And more importantly, what use are you to me that I should be granting to you favors? After all, you are no longer the heir to the Eaton fortune."
This was all true. Without the bluff, Emery really didn't have anything to offer and now the two of them were about to find out firsthand why Aleksei Ludkov's reputation was so heinous. Victor was in the middle of wishing that Emery had just let him die the first time around when Emery spoke again. "I'll leave that up to you to decide. I'm not here because I've got the upper hand. I'm here because I'm desperate. I owe more than just my freedom to Kurt Gabler and I will stop at nothing to find out what's happened to him."
Ludkov pulled the cigar from his mouth. "So you are here to offer me your services, then."
"If that's what you want."
Ludkov seemed perplexed, moving forward in his chair. "Perhaps, Mr. Eaton. I am, after all, very curious as to how you managed to infiltrate our little operation…surely you must be very clever. What are your skills?"
"I'm trilingual. I know London well. I'm a good shot, I've got fast reflexes. I'm very, very clever, in fact, and best of all, I've got him." Emery gestured to Victor, who bristled.
Ludkov turned his gaze back to Victor. "Him?"
"You don't know about Mr. Scott?" Emery asked, setting a hand on Victor's shoulder.
Victor stiffened and gave Emery a murderous look. You asshole, don't talk me up to Ludkov, don't talk me up to Lud—
"He's a certifiable genius," Emery went on. "There isn't a program, device, or machine that this man can't hack. Astrophysicists, neurosurgeons, biochemical engineers—they're all dimwits compared to him. Have you got a job you thought wasn't possible? Impossible is nothing to Victor Scott."
With that pitch Victor half expected him to throw in month's subscription to People. "Em," he bit warningly.
Ludkov sat back, chuckling softly and taking a long puff of his cigar. "This is interesting. Very interesting. I will be truthful, Mr. Eaton. You are smart men. I could do with a few smart men. I am sure you have met the young Mr. Ingram out there, yes? It seems that lately there has been an influx of men like him making their way into our ranks. Brainless and obedient. Useful, but only so much. So perhaps there is something I want from you that is worth more to me than money."
"Name the job then," Emery offered. "Let us prove our value. Then you can decide whether or not I'm worth granting a favor to."
Under different circumstances Victor would've throttled him. A little spy work, fine. Some intimidation, nothing new. Helping to take down the apparent sicko that was Hunter Eaton, that's just great, but signing up to do the Russian mob's dirty deeds was not what he agreed to help Emery accomplish. He knew that he was in no position to protest at the moment but so help him if he wasn't going to ream that headstrong, shit-for-brains smooth-talker later on.
Ludkov grinned in reply. "This is fair, I think."
"Then we have a deal?"
"Perhaps," Ludkov said. "There is a man…A man I have been following, rather unproductively, for some time now. His name is Frederick Malcom and he has been something of a nuisance to me for the better part of this last year. Any attempts to apprehend him have ended in failure. He is very adept at giving my men the slip. He knows when he is being shadowed, and he has managed to locate and remove any tracking device we employ. It is no secret that this man is well-affiliated. If he shows himself in public, he is safe from our grasp, so there he has remained, flaunting his face in local night clubs and London hotspots for all to see."
"You want us to detain him," Emery guessed.
"If this is what you must do, then so be it. Mr. Malcom has some very, very important information, you see. A list of names. Get me this list, I do not care how, and I will consider your request, Mr. Eaton."
"How will I know this list?" Emery asked.
"The names are all Russian."
"Where does he keep this information?"
"I do not know."
"Alright. Where can I find this Mr. Malcom?"
"He keeps no set schedule."
Emery frowned, hopefully beginning to understand that this was a purposeful dead end. "Very well. We'll find him, then. You'll have your list in a few days' time." Emery turned away.
"Not so fast," Ludkov held up a hand, then beckoned his remaining bodyguard down to his level. The man bent over and Ludkov murmured a few sentences in Russian at him. The guard stood back up with a nod and exited the room out the back. "You did not think I would let you go unsupervised, did you?"
Great. Not only were they set up with a ridiculous task, but they got to do it with a spy on their backs. Victor watched as a woman emerged from the back room moments later. She was small, probably five foot four with black hair cropped to the middle of her neck and straight-cut bangs. She carried herself with the utmost composure, but when she stepped into the room her eyes widened a bit and stopped on Emery for a long moment. A little too long. Victor narrowed his eyes suspiciously. She recognized him. Why?
Ludkov held a hand towards her. "Mr. Eaton, this is Ms. Faraday. She will be accompanying you on your mission to make sure that everything goes according to plan. She may have some insight that will be useful to you."
Emery nodded. "As you please."
The woman stepped forward, offering her hand towards him. "A pleasure," she said succinctly in a high but soft voice.
"I'm sure, Ms. Faraday," Emery replied, shaking her hand, but his face was stony. Victor didn't think the recognition was mutual.
"You can call me Georgie." She gave him a calculating sweep with her eyes, then glanced at Victor and moved past them towards the exit. "I'll bring the car around and pick you gents up in a moment, then."
She disappeared, leaving Victor and Emery to give one another a look before turning back to Ludkov.
"That is all, gentlemen," he dismissed. "You are free to leave."
Victor cautiously lifted a foo
t, eyes remaining warily on Ludkov in anticipation for a gun to be drawn before he slunk out of the room after Emery. A great many eyes followed them as they made their way through the lounge. This didn't seem to bother Emery, who stopped briefly to pat a sincerely petrified Dave on the chest along the way. Victor shook his head and kept his eyes trained on Emery as they made it out the door into the abandoned lot.
"Alright," Emery said when the door shut behind them. "First thing's first. We need to find out wh—"
Emery was cut off as Victor snatched him by the jacket and slammed him up against the wall beside them. Emery coughed out a shocked breath and gripped Victor's wrists. "You motherfucker!" Victor snapped.
"Victor—!" Emery wheezed.
"Were you even gonna ask before you volunteered me to work for the most sinister assholes in all of England? Huh? Do I get a fucking say in that? You goddamn lunatic—this isn't a job! This is a suicide pact!"
"Victor, I didn't have a choice!" Emery barked. "What could I have done? Could I have refused him? Do you think our fate would be any less sealed if I had? I was trying to save our lives!"
Victor clenched his jaw and dropped Emery, spinning away in irritation. "Don't you fucking get it? I mean are you really that dense?"
Emery creased his brow, rubbing his chest and remaining leaned against the wall. "What do you mean?"
"Ludkov is fucking playing with us," Victor explained. "He's sending us on an impossible task so that when we fail, someone else is going to kill Hunter Eaton's son for him. Ludkov's hands stay clean, his partnership with your stepfather intact. Get it?"
Emery shook his head. "Why should he do that? He knows Hunter and I are estranged."
"So what? Better safe than sorry. He makes a lot of money off Eaton. He's not gonna risk pissing him off."