by Hamel, B. B.
He reached the door and threw himself inside. Blood oozed from his arm but he slammed the door.
“Go!” he yelled.
Something flew through the air and slammed against Hedeon’s building. Fire fell down the front of it, setting the door and the window frame ablaze. It took me half a second to realize they were throwing Molotov cocktails.
I hit the gas and leapt forward. Gunfire filled the air as another cocktail missed the car and hit the sidewalk. It was lucky for us, because the gasoline inside exploded outward and forced the guys in the second van to stagger away from it.
Another Molotov hit Hedeon’s house. The fire engulfed the front as I drove fast past the second van. They shot out a wheel and I had to hold on tight as the car nearly lost tracking, but I rode the rim to the next street and turned right. I hit the gas and accelerated forward, sparks flying up.
The gunfire ceased, but I couldn’t slow down. They’d chase soon.
“You alive?” I said.
“I’m alive.” Hedeon’s face was white. Robin was still crammed on the floor. He crawled into the back seat and lay sprawled out along it.
“Robin?”
“I’m okay.” She climbed up from the floor. “I’m okay. Nothing hit.”
“What’s injured, Hedeon?”
“Arm.” He clenched his jaw, hand pressing hard against the wound. “Bullet went through.”
“That’s good. Clean shot.”
“I need a doctor.”
“Can’t do a hospital.”
“Who the fuck cares? We’ll pay for it. Got to get to a safe spot, first.”
“Where?”
He grunted and looked out the back window.
The black van was coming.
“Fuck,” he said.
I turned left, nearly lost control. The blown-out tire wouldn’t last much longer. The rim was going to bend and break soon. I didn’t have much time.
My mind raced. I had to find a safe spot to stop, somewhere the Volkovs wouldn’t follow us, and it had to be close. Otherwise they’d catch up and finish us off.
“Where’s Oleg been staying?” I asked.
“You know I can’t—”
“Hedeon, goddamn it, tell me where Oleg’s staying.”
“Nearby. Brown Street, behind the penitentiary.”
I grabbed my phone and threw it back at Hedeon as I slammed onto Fairmount. The car fishtailed, nearly smashed into a truck. Robin screamed and snapped her seatbelt on. Sparks flew up from the rim as it scraped along the road.
“Call him!” I yelled.
“I can’t just—”
“Call him and tell him to be outside in two minutes with the biggest fucking gun he owns.”
Hedeon let out a snarl, but dialed.
I crossed over Fairmount and slammed a right onto Twenty-Second Street. Eastern State Penitentiary loomed up to our right, an enormous stone behemoth of gray slate. Guard towards stood at either corner, staring down like ancient sentinels. Cars swerved out of the way as I barreled forward, barely under control, sparks flying wildly. I saw pedestrians stare, some of them probably tourists.
The van was gaining as I reached Brown Street.
“Oleg,” Hedeon said. “Get your ass outside in one minute. Big gun. Yeah, biggest gun you got. One minute, Oleg. You’ll fucking see us.”
I whipped the wheel around and the tires screamed in protest. I lost control, slammed against the compact car on the right, nearly hit some girl on her bike on the left. The car bounced forward, puttering, smoking, steaming. The Penn’s wall loomed on our right. Beautiful, modern brick buildings jutted up on the left. The car died and rolled forward, then came to a stop resting up against a red work truck with a portable generator behind it.
“End of the line,” I said.
The van pulled up behind us. Men climbed out.
I checked my gun, nodded to myself. “You ready?”
“Leo,” Robin said, her eyes wide, fear in her voice.
I looked back at Hedeon. “It’s been real.”
He grunted at me, face pale, blood staining the seat.
I kicked open my door and rolled out. Gunfire filled the air. Good, I wanted them to shoot at me. I got behind the generator and fired back. I hit one right away, made him stagger and drop to one knee.
But their fire pinned me down. I shot blind, barely staying undercover as the bullets slammed into the pavement around me and made horrible dents in the generator’s steel.
Then all hell broke loose.
An enormous spray of noise and shrapnel tore across the afternoon. The guys coming toward me staggered and broke away. I knelt and fired a few more shots, but they were being torn to pieces.
I saw Oleg standing on the sidewalk with his legs spread wide, bracing an enormous black machine gun with a long strand of bullets draped over to one side on his massive shoulder. The gun screamed and fired, the bullets ripping the Volkov guys to pieces.
It was a fucking Hotchkiss machine gun. Some shit British WWI vets fought with. Oleg’s face was wild with delight as the antique firearm did its deadly job, tearing the Volkov men to pieces.
It ended in a spray of smoke and steam. Black plumes rose from the car’s engine. Gunpowder stink spread out across the sidewalk. Oleg’s laughter drifted on the wind.
I ran to the car. Robin looked scared, but okay. I pulled the back door open and dragged Hedeon out.
“Oleg,” I yelled.
He came jogging over, machine gun on his shoulder. “I didn’t think it’d fucking work,” he said. “I rebuilt it myself, but didn’t think it’d work. I mean, I never actually shot it before, but goddamn, did you see that? Tore those motherfuckers a new one.”
“Hedeon’s hit,” I said.
His delight faded. “How bad?”
“Straight through the arm.” I took Hedeon’s weight and lifted him out with a grunt.
“Get him to my car. I’ll take him out of here.”
I nodded and he took some of Hedeon’s weight. We limped as fast as we could. Hedeon let out small grunts of pain, but he remained conscious. Oleg’s vehicle was a pick-up truck halfway down the block parked behind a BMW. I put Hedeon into the passenger seat and touched his chest.
“You’ll survive,” I said.
He grunted. “Always do.”
Oleg started the engine. I ran back to Robin as Oleg pulled out, drove the wrong way down the block, and turned right, disappearing.
“We’ve got to go.” I tugged at her wrist.
She stood staring at the dead Volkov guys on the ground.
“I recognize them. I mean, two of them.” She pointed. “They used to come around the diner all the time.”
“Yeah, well, they’re fucked now. Come on.” I pulled her to the van and pushed her into the passenger side. I got behind the wheel.
Fortunately, they left the keys in the ignition.
I slammed my door and roared the van forward. It bumped over the dead Volkov corpses, mashing them down into the pavement. I swerved around the wreck of my car, turned left, and drove north, not really caring where I ended up. I just drove for a while, taking side streets, alleys, doing whatever I could to avoid main roads.
We’d barely gotten past that. If I hadn’t gone to see Hedeon, he would be dead. There was no way he would’ve survived a hit like that. And we got lucky only one of the two vans followed.
If one thing had gone different, we’d all be dead.
But as I drove and the silence deepened, one thing became startlingly clear.
We had a traitor.
There was no other way the Volkovs could know about Hedeon’s place.
We had a traitor, and whoever it was, had to pay with his life.
18
Robin
When I first called Ursula Pushkin, she didn’t sound happy to hear from me.
“I thought you were dead.” She spoke in a clipped, annoyed tone.
“Hi, Ursula. Nice to hear your voice, too.”
&
nbsp; “They told us not to talk to you.” I heard her light up a cigarette in the background, then the unmistakable sound of her taking a deep drag. “They told us you were dead, yes?”
“I’m not dead. I think they’re just afraid of me.”
“Big, bad Volkov men afraid of little, pretty Robin Volkov? I don’t think so. That very funny.”
I smiled a little and pictured the look on her pretty, bland face. She had long red hair, curly in the right humidity, and pale skin. She was probably pretty once, but years of hard living, drugs, and depression hadn’t done her any favors.
But we were friends. At least, I thought we were. Back when I worked at the diner, Ursula was always my favorite. Sometimes we’d sit in the back together and tell stories about when we were kids. She’d talk about growing up in Belarus, about being so poor she couldn’t afford socks, about the blisters she had for a while and about how the blisters turned into calluses so thick her feet never hurt again. I always thought that was a poignant metaphor for her life, but when I pointed that out, she’d just scoffed and said, “Metaphor? Feet? I think no.”
I looked at Leo from across the hotel room and he only arched an eyebrow.
“They know I know things,” I said into the phone. “They know I can go places.”
“Yes, true, but I have feeling that is not enough, yes? I hear they did something very bad to you and men you are with.”
“They tried, but they failed.”
“Hah, of course, all Volkov men are failures.”
“Ursula, I need your help.”
“Yes, I thought so.” She took a long drag and blew the smoke into the receiver. “What do you want?”
“The next time Maksim’s in the diner, I want you to text me.”
“Text you. About Maksim. You also want me to die, yes?”
“Nobody will know it was you. Send the text then delete it from your phone. That’s all you’d have to do.”
“And you get caught, you tell them I sent you, yes?”
“If I get caught, I’ll get killed. We’re not coming to hold his hand.”
There was a long silence. Then she laughed.
“I always hated him,” she said. “You know, the first day I came to America, he saw me and said, not pretty enough, she looks like a little dirty peasant girl. I hated him so much because he was right.”
“Help me,” I said. “You know it’s the right thing.”
“Right thing.” She grunted. “I hate right thing. But I think I hate Maksim more.”
“So you’ll help?”
“Yes, I’ll help. But only because you are asking. Anyone else ask, I tell them to go fuck themselves.”
“You’re a darling. When you send that text, make sure you’re not anywhere near him, okay?”
“I will be far, far away.”
She hung up the phone. I smiled and leaned back in my chair. Leo tilted his head.
“She’s in, I take it,” he said.
“She’s in.”
“Good.” He looked at a clock. “How long, do you think?”
“Won’t be long. Maksim liked the diner. He’ll show up.”
Leo nodded, but his face remained clouded over.
* * *
Turned out, I was wrong.
It took Ursula five days to text us.
In the meantime, we moved hotels twice. Leo preferred big, fancy chains, and so he made sure we didn’t hurt for comforts and luxury. I fell in and out of bed with him, because there was nothing else to do, and because I wanted him. We ate well, we had sex, and he spent endless hours texting everyone in the crew.
Everything changed suddenly. It was just after seven on a Tuesday. I had my feet up on the coffee table. Leo was pacing around the bedroom talking to Oleg on the phone, getting his evening update on how Hedeon was doing and what the rest of the crew was up to.
Then my phone buzzed.
I stared down at the screen. Ursula’s name floated on the screen.
He’s here with some man. Good luck.
That was all, nothing else. I stood up, heart racing.
“Leo.”
I heard him say something on the phone then poke his head out. “What’s up?”
“It’s time.”
He frowned. “She texted?”
“Just now. He’s at the diner.”
He held the phone to his ear. “Oleg? Yeah, I’ve got to go. It’s time.”
He hung up, disappeared into the room, then came out with his gun in his hand. He pulled back the slide.
“Let’s go.”
I chewed on my cheek, but followed him from the room. I wore tights, a sweatshirt, and had my hair up in a bun. I wished I had more time to get ready, but then again, I didn’t know what I would do. There’s not exactly a dress code for a mafia-style hit.
We found Leo’s car parked a couple blocks from the hotel and got inside. A bus rolled past with its headlights on. People sat inside, illuminated next to the big windows. A pack of young men wandered along the sidewalk, laughing too loud.
“You know the plan?” he asked.
“I remember.”
“You’re coming only to identify Maksim and anyone else important.”
“I know.”
“If shit goes bad—”
“I know, I know. Call Oleg, tell him what happened, get out of the city.”
He nodded, face serious. “I’m not sure what’ll happen here.”
“I know.”
“But we have to do this. I have to do this. He can’t keep getting away with this shit.”
I reached out and touched his thigh. “It’s not too late to turn around. We could get more people. Make sure it happens right.”
He frowned, shook his head. “No, this is on me. I need to fix this.”
“If you’re scared—”
“I’m not scared,” he said. “Not for me, anyway.”
I watched him as he turned left and headed north along Broad. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I’m the only thing standing between you and your family. I’m the only one that does worry.”
“But that doesn’t mean you have to go and get yourself killed for me.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on getting killed. Still, just know what you’re supposed to do if something does go down.”
I nodded and retreated to my side of the car. I wrapped my arms around myself and didn’t speak as he stared straight ahead.
The city was full of lights. Restaurants, dry cleaners, clothing stores, shoe stores, pawn shops, check-cashing places. Anything imaginable pressed in on both sides of us. But as we moved further north, the city dimmed. There were fewer businesses, fewer streetlights.
I always wondered why the diner was so far north, but now it made sense. It was dark up north, it was quiet. It was easy to do the dirty work the Volkov family got away with in the darkest hours of the evening, away from prying eyes.
Leo turned down a side street and rolled forward. The diner was at the end of a quiet block, half the buildings bombed-out and empty. The front was like a beacon in a desert, like a bug zapper in a forest. It glowed a bright whitish blue. Cars were packed outside on the street, and I could see people sitting in the booths and at the counter through the big windows.
“I’m parking around the corner,” he said. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s watching outside.”
“How can you be sure?”
“The obvious spots are empty. And the less obvious ones aren’t any good.”
I let out a breath. Nerves rolled up my spine. I wondered if Ursula was as good a friend as I thought. For the first time, it occurred to me that she might not be.
Leo parked around the corner from the diner midway down the block. Two shade trees grew between sidewalk slabs, breaking them into a wedges. He checked his gun one more time then looked at me.
“You ready for this?”
“I’m ready.”
“Good.” He pu
shed open the door. “Let’s go.”
I followed him into the night. I should’ve run the other way. If I were smart, I would’ve gotten out of there.
But I wasn’t smart.
Leo strode down the block past darkened front stoops and windows with black bars over the glass. He slowed as he reached the bright corner where the diner broke up the dreary city street.
I overtook him and kept going. I felt him close behind my hip. I wanted to turn around and touch his chest just to feel his heart beating under his skin and his tattoos but I kept moving forward. I had to keep moving forward, otherwise something might break inside of me.
I approached the front window of the diner and slowed as I scanned the familiar scene inside.
Straight through the doors was a small desk on the left with a register and a display case full of candy bars and gum. Beyond that was the teal counter with its peeling laminate where several people sat on red upholstered stools. I didn’t recognize the girl working. She had short blonde hair and too much eyeshadow. To the left were booths with gleaming silver accents. The floor was checkered white and black.
I saw Maksim in his usual booth toward the back. He faced the front, but I knew he couldn’t see me, not at night. I could see him though, lit up by the interior lighting. They liked to keep it bright, nice and homey despite the surroundings.
“There, far booth.” I nodded. The street was dark and quiet. A car rolled past with its lights on but didn’t stop or slow.
“I see him.” Leo took a step toward the door.
I grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”
Ursula appeared. She wore an apron, had her hair up in pins, her lips painted a bright pink. She smiled but I could see the nervous energy in her eyes. She took a step back, laughing, and wrote something down.
The man sitting with Maksim leaned toward her and I could see his face.
“Fuck,” Leo said, and I knew he saw too.
It was Enrico, the man from the crew, the one from the meeting that was such an asshole. He leaned away from Ursula and Maksim laughed, probably at something he said. Ursula wrote something down then left them again.
Leo took a few steps back away from the door.
“It’s him. It was always him.”
