“Shit!”
“That was my thought. Much too close to Cara’s concert event.” He was leaning back against the buffet with his arms crossed. “And after you glance through those photos, you’ll understand why I sent Nikolai to gather her up and bring her to me.”
Jock already had the envelope open and was pulling out the photos.
ST. PETERSBURG—KATYA TARVONA
The first photo was of a young girl in a white blouse and black skirt, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was holding a violin.
The second photo was the same young girl, her throat slit, still holding the violin with bloody hands.
“My God,” Jock said.
“It doesn’t get any better,” Kaskov said.
DUBLIN—MOIRA REARDON
Dark, curly hair, rosy cheeks, blue eyes. No more than eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing a green-plaid jacket over a white sweater. She was holding a violin.
Second photo. Eyes wide open. Blood was pouring out of a wound in her breast and she was holding the violin frantically in front of her as if to ward off the fatal blow.
“They’re all like this?” Jock asked hoarsely. “Same composition?”
Kaskov nodded. “Before and After.”
HAMILTON, BERMUDA—GILLIAN HALEY
Tanned, sun-streaked hair, a little plump, wearing a pink sundress and sandals, holding her violin.
Jock only glanced at the second photo. The sundress was no longer pink, it was bloodstained. But the violin was there in the forefront.
“I don’t have a name on the last photo I received from Charlotte, North Carolina,” Kaskov said. “We’ve been doing a search, but Nikolai hasn’t been able to find any violinists missing in the area with her description.”
“I think that I can furnish you with the name.” Jock pulled out the last photos. “Marian Napier. You should have been checking Toronto, Canada. Svardak must have snatched her there while she was hiking. Because it was in Canada, the hunt and publicity would be confined to Toronto. Evidently he was being more careful the closer he got to Cara and didn’t want to tip his hand.” He looked at the second photo. It was what he expected. Blood pouring from the woman’s wounds to saturate the violin. He felt a sudden burst of rage as he tossed the photos back at Kaskov. “But why weren’t you being careful? Violins? Young women being slaughtered. Don’t tell me you didn’t think about Cara. I could kill you.”
“I thought about it. I told you I had her under strict protection, and the first killings were nowhere near Cara. The Bermuda death was too close, but I was already moving to take care of the situation.” He shrugged. “And you can’t kill me, you’re going to need me. You’re right, it would have struck an immediate chord with me if I hadn’t had a frame of reference other than Cara in the back of my mind. That first killing at St. Petersburg hit too close and threw me off balance. I started to look for a dead man.”
“What? With a damn violin?”
“He could have regarded it as a symbol. I told you he was crazy.”
“But you didn’t tell me nearly enough about him.” He was shooting questions, “Where is he? Why does he have Cara? Do you know how I can get to him?”
“I don’t know where he is. I might have an idea how you might get to him. I paved the way.” He paused. “Why does he have Cara? Pure revenge, I’m afraid.” He put the envelopes back in the drawer of the buffet and closed it. “My fault. I shouldn’t have stopped searching for him. But I’d eliminated the rest of them, and it was a busy time for me.” He added sardonically, “I was a young man, and I hadn’t learned the value of being thorough about tying up loose ends yet.”
“And just who had you eliminated?”
He silently held up his hands. Four fingers on each hand had been smashed and were now crooked and malformed. “Did you think I’d allow that to happen to me without returning in kind? I’m sure Cara told you about it. She was very upset. She loves her own music so much that she couldn’t imagine how I could bear it. But she’s so very young and soft, isn’t she?”
“Not so soft. She did tell me that you grew up in a Gulag prison labor camp in Siberia and that you wanted to be a violinist. She said that a prison guard smashed your fingers. You told her that you could no longer play and had to go in another direction. Should I guess the name of that guard?”
“Ivan Svardak. He was John Svardak’s father. He also had another son, Boris, and a daughter, Anna. Anna was also a violinist. Technically excellent but no magic. But she was very ambitious. We were all very ambitious in that labor camp. The bastards who ran our Gulag graciously permitted the younger prisoners to work from dawn to dusk in the mines but gave us the hope of escape if we spent any free time working in their ‘social’ program. Being a musician and sent to Moscow to a prestigious school was one of the only ways to get out.” He looked down at his fingers. “And Anna’s father was ambitious for her. Anna convinced him that I wasn’t worthy to enter the competition that might get me a little too much attention. She said that I had no technique, but I was able to evoke an emotional response that might get in her way. So Boris and Ivan took care of that for her. They cornered me in a hallway. It turned out to be a family affair. Anna was there watching to make sure they did a good job. And I remember her younger brother, John, laughing as my bones broke. It was the longest ten minutes of my life.”
“Evidently they believed you were a threat to this Anna. You were that good?”
“I was superb.” He added, “But I was also pragmatic. Dreams are for children. Power is for adults. So after my hands healed, I found my way to a group in the labor camp who dealt in power. I was out of the prison in a year, then I was on my way.”
“Svardak?”
“I’m getting there. It took me three years to rise to a position in the organization where I could allow myself to take back those ten minutes of torture in that Gulag. I went after Ivan and Boris first. Anna saw me do it and took off with brother John in tow. She disappeared from view and probably thought I’d forget. I never forget. Years later, I located her and sent a man to take care of her.”
“But you lost John Svardak.”
“I told you I did,” he said roughly. “I searched for years, but I couldn’t find him. Anna hid him very well in that mental hospital, and she died before she could be questioned. I lost him, and I’ll pay the price.”
“If Cara doesn’t have to pay it for you.”
Kaskov shook his head. “Oh, you won’t allow that.”
“No, I won’t. It’s too bad it won’t help those other women Svardak butchered. You should have been on top of this from that first killing.”
He shrugged. “I told you that it spiraled me back to another time, another Kaskov. As far as I knew, that first victim was murdered by a madman who was killing randomly and was no real threat to me. I didn’t know his potential.”
“But you suspected it was Svardak.”
“Of course I did,” he said impatiently. “The family had dominated and changed my life. I immediately started an in-depth search again. It was easier since we had a new victim and I have many political contacts these days.” His lips twisted. “Perhaps too easy. At one point, I wondered if Svardak was deliberately leaving clues to lead me to him. We found the mental hospital in Narva, Estonia, where Anna had placed him, and I was given a few lessons on what I was going to have to deal with in John Svardak. The surrounding village had a long list of missing and murdered citizens. You might be interested.”
“Right now, my only interest is finding the son of a bitch. You said you might know a way to find him, that you’d paved the way. Who did you use to pave it?”
“Ron Edding. One of Svardak’s men he’d hired in the Bahamas to help get him off the island after he killed Gillian Haley. It was more difficult to arrange a murder on a small island with the strict policing of Bermuda. But Edding managed to do it, and Svardak was impressed enough to hire him for his regular crew … which he told Edding was occupied at th
at time with doing guard duty in this area of West Virginia.”
“And how do you know all this?”
Kaskov’s brows lifted. “The police might not have been able to track down Svardak’s accomplices on Bermuda, but do you think Nikolai would have had problems? He knew the importance. Edding was already gone when he arrived, but Nikolai found out he had a mistress, Malia Basteau, he visited twice a week in Nassau. After in-depth questioning, Nikolai found out Edding had called her after he left Bermuda but told her that he’d have to wait until he got back to Bermuda to call her again. He must have trusted her because he was foolish enough to tell her that he was in this general area. But he said that Svardak was watching everyone, and he’d be a dead man if he found out Edding had called her.”
“But he didn’t even have Cara then.”
“But he might have had Marian Napier. Her body hasn’t been found. And if he’d already set up a safe place to dispose of a body, why not use it for Cara?”
Jock could feel the tension tighten every muscle. “Why not, indeed. Can you force his mistress to call Edding back and pump him for more information about his exact location?”
“I could, but she’s frightened now, and she’d probably make slips. You don’t want that. It would be dangerous for Cara. The best I can do is text you a photo of Edding. Why do you think I didn’t go after Svardak myself? The minute he thought I was on the hunt, he’d kill Cara. It was better to let you dispose of him.”
“How kind of you. You’re right, I’ll find him on my own.” He turned toward the door. “And I’d better get started. Send those photos to Joe Quinn, will you? I’ll call him and fill him in on this location. But he needs to have the complete scenario of what’s going on with Svardak. I won’t have him kept in the dark. I might need him.”
Kaskov nodded. “Use him if you wish. But understand I deal only with you, Gavin. But I’ll send him the photos with omissions about my previous association with Svardak and his family. He’ll get everything else.”
“Protect yourself all you please,” he said curtly. “I don’t give a damn about what they did to you or what you did to them. All that matters is getting Cara away from him. I’ll find him. I’ll kill him. If I need you, I’ll call you.”
“As you like.” He watched him head toward the door. “However, I believe we should discuss one other possibility. Svardak has probably been anticipating taunting me for a long time. He won’t miss the opportunity of showing off Cara and his power over her. I’ll get a call or, more likely, a Skype.” He paused. “No doubt it will be painful to watch. Should I invite you to his little party?”
Just the thought was making the anger pound through Jock. Anger and pain. Kaskov would have known that would be his response and wasn’t above being pleased. He hadn’t liked having to send for Jock. Nor the orders Jock had been issuing since he got here. He couldn’t blame him, and it didn’t matter. He’d brought Jock here where he at least had a chance of saving Cara. “Aye, call me. But don’t let either him or Cara know I’m here watching. If it’s going to be a party, let’s have it be a surprise party.”
He walked out of the room.
* * *
He had handled the situation just right, Kaskov thought. Well, as right as you could manage to handle a man as dangerous as Jock Gavin.
He went to the window and watched Gavin stride down the driveway. He’d had to be very careful not to give up any control while he’d revealed that nightmare of over thirty years ago. He must always retain control. After all this time, it shouldn’t have been this difficult.
But time hadn’t seemed to matter today, perhaps because Jock Gavin’s fire and passion reminded him of that boy he’d been himself on that day in Siberia …
LABOR CAMP
Pain!
The butt of Ivan Svardak’s rifle struck Kaskov’s temple as he entered the hallway, stunning him. He staggered as the rifle struck him again. “What in hell is—”
“Grab him.” Kaskov realized dazedly it was Ivan Svardak, one of the guards, speaking to his son, Boris, who was behind him. “I’ve seen him fight in the yard. He’s a tiger. Put him down!”
“I’ve got him.” Boris was behind Kaskov, his arm around his neck. “Hit him again!”
He was already hitting him, whipping the barrel across his shoulder with full force.
More pain. Get rid of the sons of bitches. Kaskov broke free, whirled, and karate-chopped Ivan’s neck. Then he head-butted his son in the stomach.
But Ivan was there again, beating him with the butt of the gun. He brought Kaskov to the ground.
Darkness.
He was barely conscious as he struggled to his knees and heard Svardak call, “Anna, come over here and give me your scarf so that I can gag him.” He kept hitting Kaskov again and again. “You wanted this done. Now come and help.”
“Why else am I here?” Anna smiled as she crossed the hall and handed her father the scarf. She looked down at Kaskov. “He’s bleeding. We won’t get in trouble if he dies?”
“He won’t die. And I’ll tell the sergeant I had to smash his hands when I caught him stealing.”
“He was stealing,” Anna said. “He was trying to steal away my prize from all of us.” She stared down at Kaskov with a vicious smile. “It was mine.”
Smash his hands …
Only those words were clear through Kaskov’s pain and dizziness.
Smash his hands? Take away the music? Take away everything he was?
“No!” He started to struggle again. “You can’t do it. I won’t let you do that to me.” He got an arm free and hit Boris Svardak in the groin.
But his father immediately struck Kaskov again, this time in the belly. Then he pulled out his pistol and whipped him with it until the entire room and all their faces were only a blur of pain. “Stop fighting. I was going to knock you out first,” he hissed. “But you hurt my son. Now you’re going to feel every single bone splinter.” He gagged him with Anna’s scarf and turned to Boris. “You get the first hit. Index finger.” He handed him the rifle. “Go slow. Make him feel it.”
“I want to do it.” John, Svardak’s youngest son, was stepping forward. “He tried to cheat Anna. Can’t I do it?”
“Maybe later. It’s your brother’s treat now.”
Kaskov tried to move, to stop them. He couldn’t do either. He could only watch as they spread the fingers of his right hand and lifted the butt of the rifle. It was going to happen. They were going to take everything away from him. They were going to take what had kept him sane in this hellhole of a camp. They were going to take the music.
He could see their faces above him, all eager, like hungry vultures, waiting for the first scream.
He would not give it to them.
The butt of the rifle was coming down …
But, oh my God, he would make them pay …
* * *
“Gavin has left the property, sir.” Nikolai had come out of the kitchen and was standing behind him. “Am I allowed to resume my duties?”
“Why not?” He turned away from the window to face Nikolai. “If you can overcome your irritation with me for ordering you to stay away from him.”
“It’s not my place to question you. But I saw no reason. I would have obeyed your orders.”
“But Gavin would not. He saw the video of you at Cara’s hotel. It was best to avoid conflict in this case. Everything went very smoothly without your interaction.” He went back to the table. “The only thing that went amiss was that my breakfast was interrupted. Would you tell the chef to make me another eggs Benedict?”
Nikolai nodded and started to turn away. Then he turned and looked back at Kaskov. “He did not hurt you?”
“What? Why would you think that?”
“You’ve been flexing your hands since I walked into the room.” He repeated, “He did not hurt you?”
Kaskov looked down at his hands. It was lucky that it had been Nikolai who had noticed. It was only an instant of los
s of control, but he would have to watch it. He smiled and shrugged. “Of course, he didn’t. My hands are perfectly fine, Nikolai. Now see about my breakfast.”
CHAPTER
5
LAKE COTTAGE
“I don’t want you to see these,” Joe said as he climbed the steps to where Eve was standing on the porch. “It’s only going to upset you. We’re not going to let it have anything to do with Cara.”
“Jock looked at them. So did you.” She took his tablet. “And everything that man did has to do with Cara.” Yet she didn’t open the tablet. Joe had told her what she would see, and she had to brace herself. “And there are things I don’t like about this either. Do you think I want to stay here while you go hunting with Jock? I should be there. When are you leaving?”
“As soon as I show you those damn photos and say good-bye to Michael. Is he home from school yet?”
She nodded jerkily. “He’s doing his homework. I told him that you were going after Cara. He wanted to go with you.” She turned into his arms and buried her face in his chest. “I told him I did, too. He didn’t like it when I said I might have him go visit Catherine Ling for a few days.” Her voice was muffled. “But I said we’d discuss it later since we didn’t exactly know where Cara was and we have to wait until you and Jock tell us.”
“You mean until Jock tells us,” Joe said dryly. “He’s been out in those mountains all day trying to locate Svardak’s base camp. I’m just hoping he’ll find it before I get there.” He grimaced. “Or maybe I’m not. Because he’ll probably not wait for me before going in after Svardak.” His fingers were tangled in her hair as he rocked her back and forth. “We’ll find her, Eve.”
“That’s what I keep telling Michael.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Now you go tell him. He took my lecture entirely too much to heart, and he’s feeling responsible for bringing Cara to Atlanta.” She took a step back. “And I’ll take a quick glance through those photos while you’re doing it. I don’t want Michael getting curious.”
The Bullet Page 9
