by Laura Acton
Dom cut her off, “Though I appreciate your allegiance, allow me to reassure you I would never intentionally hurt him. The boy has suffered more than anyone ever should in his lifetime. Please, my motives are honorable, and my reasons are valid.”
The sincerity showing in Dom’s eyes persuaded Anastasia, and although she didn’t comprehend why they wanted to maintain the deception, she acquiesced giving him a nod. Mike waved over the waitress, and they ordered dinner. While waiting, they discussed options to exfil in a coded manner.
Kandahar – General Broderick’s Office – 1935 Hours
“Enter,” William Broderick stated, and he closed the classified file on his desk as the door opened. He glanced at the clock noting the time was well past dinner, though he remained too busy to stop. He greeted his longtime friend, “To what do I owe this pleasure? I was not expecting to meet with you until zero eight hundred tomorrow.”
Colonel Thomas Sutton shut the door behind him and strode over to the chair in front of William’s desk and sat down not bothering to stand on ceremony with only a skeleton staff in the outer office.
William noted the grave look on his friend’s face. “What is it, Tom?”
“I directed Bransworth to monitor news and other communications in Makhachkala as you requested. The politsia issued arrest warrants for Maks and his bodyguard earlier this morning.” He handed over a folder containing a copy of a news clipping. “As you can see, they used a picture of the real Maksim and the sketch is damned close to Mason.”
“What are the charges?” William stared at the photo which bore an uncanny resemblance to his son.
“Mass murder at a gentleman’s club. Local authorities are not releasing the exact number dead. However, the airport and all border crossings are under concentrated surveillance, essentially locked down for an all-out manhunt. They issued a shoot on sight authorization if either attempt to flee.”
William slammed his fist on the desk. “Dammit. How the hell are we gonna get them out?”
“They’re dark. They won’t be contacting us. You know that.” Sutton experienced the same frustration level, but nowhere near the personal pain William felt. He tried to placate William, “They are a skilled unit. Dom and Mike are with them too. They will find a creative solution.”
At another knock on the door, William called out gruffly, “Enter.”
Bransworth entered, closed the door behind him, and came to attention.
“At ease, private,” General Broderick said.
Bransworth went to parade rest and shifted his gaze to the colonel.
Sutton returned the gaze of his trusted aide. The young man was whip-smart and would be going places. “Bransworth, what news do you bring?”
Keeping his voice low, Howard conveyed, “Sir, you asked to be kept informed of the Maksim Gennadiyevich situation. I received word Maksim was being transported from the immigration holding facility in Edmonton to Ottawa for questioning by Interpol. While in transit, Gennadiyevich bribed two constables, and they released him. They attempted to make his release appear like an escape, but one of the officers had his mic open and was recorded by the dispatcher. The cops are in custody, but Maksim is on the run.”
Sutton directed, “Thank you, Bransworth. Keep this to yourself and monitor the situation for me. Report any major changes.”
“Did the report say why Interpol was involved?” William asked.
“Not specifically, but the investigator is from their human trafficking division.”
William clenched his jaw. The only emotion visible was a slight narrowing of his eyes as he thought about the consequences. If the Russians get wind Maks is in Canada, it will jeopardize Daniel because they will realize an impostor entered the country. “How was the news reported?”
“The escape is being reported on CBC News. However, the bribe and transfer reason I uncovered after doing some digging. Entertainment media will be picking up the story soon … international playboy flees cops will make the headlines and sell the rag mags.”
With no other questions forthcoming from William, Tom said, “Dismissed, Bransworth. Keep me apprised of any changes.”
Bransworth came to attention, pivoted, and left the room closing the door securely behind him. He headed back to the colonel’s office to pull the latest report from Suhail Yusuf on section Y6. Yusuf appeared to be making progress with the tribal leaders but much distrust existed, and intel was slow to come.
Raking his hands through his hair, William peered at Tom. “This complicates things.”
Tom thought a moment then offered, “Perhaps but perhaps not. If there is a warrant out for Maks’ arrest, it leads me to believe they succeeded in rescuing Dom’s girls. Their exit must’ve been messy though. Savelievich is bound to finger Maks as the culprit since his is the only name he will know. When the Russian politsia find out the real Maks is in Canada they will assume an impostor entered their county and they won’t link it to Da—”
William cut him off. “Daniel will still be unable to exit unless Dom can scare up a passable passport and change Daniel’s appearance. However, Master Corporal Srònaich O’Naoimhín will be easy to spot. His size and facial scars make him easily identifiable. Blain will never leave a man behind. I have no idea how they are going to exfil.”
Tom leaned back, and his shoulders slumped. William is right. Blaze will ensure they all return, but if any are wounded or worse, their exfil will be further complicated. With an undisclosed number of people dead, it is highly unlikely they got out unscathed.
Sutton stood and squared himself. William didn’t need him to voice worries which certainty already crossed his friend’s mind. He said with confidence, “We will trust them. They are well trained and will find a way.”
Though worried about a plethora of things regarding this mission, William decided to draw on his faith in his men and son to make it back. “Yes, you are right. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the briefing.”
Tom grinned. “You will be happy. I sent Major Plouffe to the remote camp. He will be out of our hair for the unit resource meeting.”
“That’s the first pleasant news in days.” William grinned and reopened the file he had been reviewing before Tom entered.
Colonel Sutton turned and headed out of the room, glad he made William smile at least a little.
Makhachkala – Politsia Station - Tikhonovich’s Office – 1945 Hours
Lieutenant Kesar Tikhonovich seethed. He expected payment today, and Panin had always been reliable in the past. Kesar raked in a boatload of money covering up Savelievich’s criminal acts. As a lieutenant and mid-level in the chain of command, he was in the perfect position to direct officers as necessary, and he had a bevy of officers who were as corruptible as him. It took only a pittance of what Panin paid him to buy their allegiance.
He did his part by keeping officers from entering the club immediately upon arriving so Panin could hide his unsavory affairs. But only moments ago, one of his minions called to inform him Panin left the country on a private jet a few hours after contacting him, thus skipping town before arranging remuneration.
In addition to being upset about non-payment, the carnage inside the Cherry Club was more than he imagined from the rushed conversation. Over eight dozen dead. Not one of Panin’s guards remained alive, and several clients had been slain too. The death toll came to one hundred and three. The coroner would be busy for weeks doing autopsies. Deceased men littered every floor, slaughtered in various ways. Gunshot being the primary method, but also included snapped necks, slit throats, and one with no apparent injuries.
Six of Savelievich’s security force were discovered dead in the underground garage. On the ground level, they found one in the alley, five in the kitchen, three in the main room by the elevator, and ten in a stairwell. The second floor contained twenty slain men, fourteen in a hallway and six in Panin’s office. Two lifeless bodies on the third level lay next to vomit.
Nine had been lined up against
a wall on the fourth floor and shot execution-style. A sniper shot four on the roof. They located the building the shooter used when an officer spotted a rappelling line, and another officer found an SV-98 with a suppressor in a trash barrel nearby. The lab was running analysis on the rifle, and a casing found up top.
The fifth floor held the most carnage, forty-three dead, and the bullet-riddled walls in the foyer and down one hallway indicated an intense gunfight occurred. Six corpses, all wearing Panin’s distinctive red shirt security uniforms lay in one auction room, and eighteen more in the hall and foyer.
All one-way mirrors in the gallery had been shattered. The tally from six separate auction rooms equaled eighteen, six guards and twelve of Panin’s customers. Each victim, a term Kesar used with disdain, had been dispatched with a single bullet to the back of their heads.
Bloodshed on this scale was unimaginable in this city. He did not believe for one second that international playboy Maksim Gennadiyevich Ivanov and one bodyguard could be responsible for this massacre. The people the officers interviewed claimed not to have seen Maks in the club. So Panin lied to him and left without paying.
Kesar had a problem though. With no other leads at this time, he must run with the story since Maks was in the city. Customs records showed he arrived early on the twenty-seventh. And so far, the investigation revealed Maks visited several clubs on the twenty-eighth. Maks also rented several suites at Anzhi-Qala Resort. It took investigators most of the day to locate where he stayed. He should have realized Maksim would choose the newest and most expensive hotel. Kesar now waited for a report from those sent to search the rooms.
Before noon, his officers also found two vans gutted and ravaged by fire. Exploding fuel tanks resulted in pieces of both vehicles being scattered over an empty field, leaving no way to trace the ownership of the utility trucks. The only identifiable physical evidence found, a matchbook with the Cherry Club logo, now linked the crime scene to Panin.
The situation and events began to appear as if Panin deliberately pulled up stakes in Makhachkala, with the expressed intent to leave no one behind who might talk. Though a hole exists for that theory too. All the prostitutes are alive. A knock interrupted Kesar’s musing. Speaking Russian, he said, “Enter.”
Stopping in front of the lieutenant’s desk, the officer reported, “Sir, we completed the hotel search. We found no sign of Maks or the people traveling with him. However, we did find two additional bodies in a room which appears to have been used for a drug-fueled orgy involving children based on the items found. We discovered wallets identifying Makar and Kazimir Yurievich and the room was rented to Makar. The coroner estimates the time of death sometime between midnight and one a.m.
“Forensics also reports matching two prints from the sniper rifle and casing found. One set belongs to Damir Ruslanovich, cousin of Radoslav Yegorovich, leader of the Jackals, whose prints are the second set we lifted from the weapon.”
Kesar’s mind rolled with implications after putting these pieces together with another seemingly unrelated incident. The landlord of Boris Antonovich found him murdered in his kitchen yesterday evening. He had been severely beaten and his throat slit. Another dead man was also discovered and identified as Tanas Ilyich, an acknowledged Jackals member.
Aware Boris was one of Panin’s scouts, the reason for Panin’s abrupt departure began to take shape. Radoslav’s gang had been infringing on Savelievich’s prostitution territory, no longer satisfied to deal only in drugs and arms. Kesar was not exactly sure how the Yurievich brothers fit, if at all, but Panin knew of them, as did the politsia given their criminal past.
Shrewdly Kesar developed a plan which would cover his ass since it appeared Panin played him for a fool. “Find out how the Yurievichs died. I believe a full-scale gang war is brewing. Several of the men at the club met with death execution-style which fits Yegorovich’s methods. It is also quite possible Maksim Gennadiyevich might have been abducted or killed by either Savelievich or Jackals members, and one or both of them are trying to shift blame to Gennadiyevich to throw us off and facilitate their getaway.”
The officer nodded and exited the room. Kesar leaned back and lit a cigarette. Taking a long draw, he gradually blew out the smoke as he considered what he must do to handle any loose ends which might tie him to Savelievich. He decided if Panin ever showed his face in Makhachkala again the slimy man would become fish bait.
Risky Yet Necessary
48
May 29
Sacred Heart Abbey – Unit’s Room – 2150 Hours
Dan gradually crawled up a steep embankment towards the light. The closer he came to the top, the more his body ached. His head pounded yet the inferno in his belly garnered his attention. Soft, familiar voices around him let him know he was in a secure place. As Morpheus released him from his firm grasp, he reached for the epicenter of his pain.
“No, Danny. Don’t touch,” Brody crooned as Dan’s movement roused him from a light doze. His hand covered Danny’s and prevented him from making contact with the abdominal catheter.
Realizing his back lay against Brody’s chest, Dan didn’t resist as Brody lowered his arm. He soaked up the comfort provided by his brother. Not ready to open his eyes, his voice dry, Dan softly asked, “Why?”
“‘Cause Patch says so. There’s a tube in your stomach to help extract the toxin. I’ll let Patch explain to you later. He’s sleeping now though. What is your pain level?”
“Five.”
Brody waved at the table to signal Blaze and Winds without talking loudly and possibly waking Ripsaw, Patch, or Mason.
“Need a break?” Blaze inquired in a hushed tone as he strode over.
“No. Danny’s awake and needs more meds. Patch pre-filled doses for him before he went to sleep.”
“I’ll grab one,” Winds offered.
As Blaze sat in the chair at the bedside, Blondie’s eyes cracked open part way. “Rough ride, you’re about three hours from the twenty-four-hour mark. You’re putting up a good fight,” Blaze said.
“Never doubted the kid would kick this toxin’s ass,” Winds said as he cleaned the port with an antiseptic wipe, uncapped and attached the needless syringe, then injected the contents into the line to administer the medication.
“Nauseous?” Blaze asked.
“No. I’ll take starving over poisoning any day … less painful,” Dan croaked.
“Ice chips?” Blaze lifted a spoon to Blondie’s lips and smiled when he opened his mouth. He recalled how the kid savored ice when he was in the hospital after they rescued him from the terrorist stronghold. “Sorry, I can’t give you much, Patch’s orders.”
Frequent regurgitation of acidic contents irritated his esophagus, and the cool liquid helped extinguish the fire in his throat. Dan opened for another spoonful. After that one melted, it became easier to speak. “How’s Ripsaw?”
“Resting. Patch took fantastic care of him and got the bullet out.” Brody relaxed somewhat, noting Dan’s lucidity. It seemed like ages since Dan had been able to converse and he was no longer erupting out of every orifice. Though, he understood his brother was not out of the woods. He may yet suffer permanent kidney damage.
“Where are we?” Dan glanced around the spartan dorm room.
“Sacred Heart Abbey. I guess you don’t remember when we told you the previous six times. Though to be honest, this is the first time you’ve remained coherent,” Blaze clarified, pleased with the change.
“Why am I so bloated?” Dan lifted a hand and laid it on his distended abdomen.
“Treatment. Your stomach is filled with dialysate. Patch will drain it when he wakes, but you must stay still,” Brody explained.
Dan found it hard to keep his eyelids open as the pain meds took effect. “Gonna nap now.”
Blaze grinned and patted Blondie’s knee. “Excellent idea.” Once Blondie drifted off, Blaze said, “Are you sure you don’t want a break, Brody?”
“I’m sure. He is resting easi
er, and I think it might be because I’m close.”
“He feels safe with you near,” Winds said as he stood. “Holler if you need anything.”
“Coffee, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Comin’ up.” Winds ambled over to the table where the nuns provided them with a coffeemaker and all the necessary supplies to fuel them with black gold. Returning with a cup, Winds handed it to Brody and sat on his bunk. “How much longer are we going to wait until we go searching for the others. They should’ve been back by now.”
After taking a sip, Brody smirked. “Said the same thing about you two when you took forever to return from ditching the vans. I’m confident whatever they’re doing is important. They wouldn’t be gone so long unless necessary.”
Park One Block from Politsia Station – 2150 Hours
Dom scanned the park in the dim light, becoming more distressed. They should be here. His gut clenched hoping neither Mike nor Anastasia had been identified as Maks’ traveling companions. What they were attempting to do was both necessary and extremely risky.
Speaking Russian, Anastasia changed the inflection of her tone using a feigned yet accurate accent, “May I help you?”
Whipping towards the voice, accent or no, he recognized the speaker. However, his eyes landed on a visage incongruent with his mental image. His jaw dropped. Sitting on the bench was a woman he would never suspect to be Anastasia.
Blonde hair now brown. Makeup applied with apparent skill giving the illusion of different contours of her face and making her eyes appear larger and more childlike. The fake contusion around one eye and cheek made her look vulnerable. Her choice of clothing displayed her assets in a head-turning manner, as did the three-inch spiked heels, and bright orange, elongated, fingernails.
“Whoa!” Dom closed his mouth. “You pass inspection with flying colors, my dear.”
“What about me?” Mike asked as he pushed off from a nearby tree, lazily blowing out smoke rings as he had watched Dom searching for them … a necessary test. Though he wanted to gag on the odor and flavor of the cigarette, he had noted many officers smoking. He determined he would blend in better if he smelled of the vile things.
