by John Charles
The passenger-side window was a spider web of tiny bits, but he could still see the car that hit him, a Honda. The crumpled hood and rising steam made it a little hard to see the occupants. Sokolov strained to see who they were. He could make out two passengers. One was a young girl who was conscious. She appeared to be screaming for help. The driver, a man, sat still, his bald head hung low. He slowly started to move and lifted his head up looking straight at Sokolov.
Viktor!
Sokolov blinked his eyes and shook his head. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he dizzy with shock? He looked back over to the driver and there was no doubt the man sitting behind the wheel, unbuckling his seatbelt, was Viktor Kazapov. He knew it.
“Viktor, stop,” Sokolov barked. He drew his gun in case Viktor had similar thoughts. He saw that Viktor was frantic and kicking at his door to get it open. Sokolov reached around and worked to free himself from his seatbelt, but couldn’t get it to pop open. “Open, damn it!”
A crowd had started to gather. He could hear shouting as people tried to help. The whirring sound of emergency vehicles wailed in the distance.
A stranger opened Sokolov’s car door. “Hey, buddy, are you okay? Don’t move, help is on the way,” he said.
Sokolov reached into his jacket and managed to pull out his badge. “The driver… he’s a… he’s a wanted fugitive,” he mumbled as he motioned toward the other car.
“What driver?” the stranger asked.
101
I gathered my stuff and was in my car within seconds, but very unsure if I had made the right decision to rush back to The Vic. On the one hand, Viktor had Natasha. God knows what he planned on doing with her. On the flip side, this could all be a trap to get to me. Could he be using Natasha as bait to lure me in? If I was Viktor and I had the opportunity to get us both, I would take it. Natasha was the bait. With the line cast again, I planned on taking every precaution to avoid getting hooked.
When I turned down my street, everything appeared normal. I drove by The Vic slowly. Nothing stood out. I also didn’t see Sokolov’s car anywhere. Where was he? Should I go inside or wait for him? Hopefully my ringing cell phone had the answer.
“Darby, it’s Detective Sokolov. You were right. I saw him.”
“You did? Where? Did you see Natasha?”
“I got in an accident with him. He got away, but Natasha was in the car. She’s fine now. A little banged up, but okay.”
This was all too much. Viktor was supposed to be in Moscow. Suddenly he shows up in my apartment and kidnaps Natasha. And now he gets into an automobile accident with Detective Sokolov, the man who’s been pursing him for years. It felt like a dream, very surreal. It seemed like this guy could do whatever he wanted, even the impossible.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m at Geary and Presido.”
“I’m on my way.” I dropped my car into gear and hightailed it over there, careful though not to repeat what had happened to the detective.
My mind soon wandered and I was thinking about the hitman and how he could be in two places at once. It would have been impossible to fly back and forth just from a timing standpoint. Could there be another person behind the killings in Moscow? Could someone be imitating Viktor? Could that person be the mastermind behind this plan? I wondered what Sokolov thought.
When I showed up at the scene of the accident, a tow truck was pulling away with one of the cars—the brown Honda.
I saw Detective Sokolov talking to a couple of cops and headed over. “How are you?” I asked with concern. He had a bandage covering the left side of his temple and I could see bruising and scratching on his cheek and jaw.
“I’ll survive.”
“Where’s Natasha?”
“She’s at the hospital. Don’t worry—only a precaution. Everything is fine. I have men with her just in case.”
“How is she handling all this?”
“She is a tough girl. She will be okay. Have you visited your house yet?”
“No, I was about to head inside, but you called and I came straight over.”
“Let’s go take a look around first, and then we can head to the hospital after.”
Although there were only two of us in my car, with Sokolov’s giant frame, it felt like four people had squeezed in. Luckily for him, we only had a short way to go.
102
I turned to the detective as we drove and asked, “What happened to Viktor?”
“He’s gone. He escaped the scene before help could arrive. He’s injured. How much, I don’t know.”
“Maybe the bastard keeled over and is dead near a sewer drain right now,” I suggested. “That would be awesome.”
Sokolov let out a laugh and then groaned.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I need a laugh.”
“Now that you’ve seen him with your own eyes, any thoughts?”
Sokolov stared out the window. “I don’t know what to say. When I saw him in the car, I thought it’s the accident. Is my head injured? But I realized it was him.”
“The way I see it, Viktor is in San Francisco, not Moscow. Someone else is killing people there and wants everyone to believe it’s Viktor. Unless someone can definitely ID the assassin, there’s no proof.”
Sokolov shook his head. “It’s baffling. The intel says he is in Moscow and now we see him here. This makes no sense.”
“You said the men were killed in a similar fashion to other Ghostface kills, but how do you know it’s not an impostor, or worse, that Viktor didn’t orchestrate this whole thing himself to throw you guys off his track? Don’t you think that’s plausible?”
Sokolov shook his head. “Someone could be imitating his style, but he’s not easy to mimic. Very few hit men have this skill.” He waved it off. “The killer in Moscow does not matter to me anymore. Viktor is here and he’s after you. We must get to him first. His injury will slow him and aid us.”
When we reached The Vic, Sokolov led the way in. I had no problem trailing behind my own personal riot shield. I unlocked the front door and the detective slowly pushed the door open. We stopped for a second in the foyer.
Sokolov whipped around. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I whispered.
“A scream.”
And then I heard it, more like a crying scream. Sokolov motioned to me to be quiet and withdrew his sidearm. The further up the stairs we went, the louder the noise got. When we reached the living room, much to our surprise, there was a woman screaming. Actually, she was moaning while bent over an office desk as a janitor gave it to her from behind. I looked over to the couch and sitting there was Tav, fully engrossed in the porno playing on the large flat screen TV. Ralphie was right by his side.
“Jesus, Tav,” I blurted out, sending him jumping out of his seat.
“Damn, don’t be sneaking up on me,” Tav blurted.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at work?”
“I didn’t feel so good. I came home. What are you guys doing here? What’s with the gun?”
“It’s Viktor. Tav, he’s here in San Francisco.”
“What? Wait, he’s back in San Francisco?”
“He never left. He kidnapped Natasha after we left this morning.”
“Holy shit.”
I explained the whole story to Tav.
“Natasha’s fine?”
“Yeah, she’s at the hospital being looked over. We left a message saying we were on our way, but first we wanted to come here for a look around.”
Sokolov stepped forward. “Do you remember the time you returned home?”
“Yeah, I got here maybe twenty, thirty minutes ago.”
“Did you notice anything? Was the front door open? Any windows? Anything out of place?”
“No, I mean it’s not like I was looking, but nothing stood out to make think so… No, everything seemed normal.”
“What are you doing watching porn with her here anyway?
”
“I thought she was sleeping.”
“Where’s her room?” Sokolov asked.
The three of us entered Natasha’s room. The bed wasn’t made and her belongings still seemed to be there. Everything appeared normal, except her absence. Viktor somehow got into the house, grabbed her while she was sleeping, and left. There were no signs of struggle or even a break-in. It was like a ghost had taken her.
When we returned to the living room, the woman on the desk was now on the conference room table and another woman had joined the party.
“Tav, could you shut that off?” I said, motioning to the television.
“Sorry.”
“Wait. Don’t touch it,” Sokolov said as he stared at the television. “The women—they are the same.”
“The Malenga Twins,” Tav supplied.
“That’s the answer.”
Tav and I were a bit confused. “That’s the answer to what?” I asked.
“What if Viktor had a twin brother? It would answer all the questions we have about his ability to be in two places at once. It might also explain Viktor’s ability to plan and kill. Two things Ghostface is a master at. He could have been taught by his brother.”
I was catching on. “If they were identical twins, they could also be interchangeable. Ghostface could be the one who kidnapped Natasha and Viktor the one assassinating people in Moscow. How would we know?”
“We wouldn’t,” Sokolov said. “We have no idea who we’re dealing with.”
“It can’t be Ghostface. Viktor has to be the one here in the city. He never left that night; that’s what happened. He went into hiding and his brother went on the offensive.” I was certain.
“You might be right,” said the detective.
“I know I’m right. Only someone who has done what he’s done could have such a vendetta against me. While his brother is more than capable, he probably lacks the passion that fuels Viktor’s revenge.”
“I have a lot to do now that Viktor is here. I need you to drop me off at the station before you go to hospital.”
I reached for my keys. “Detective, if it’s true that Viktor and Ghostface are twin brothers, how is it you didn’t know this? It made sense not to know anything about Ghostface, but Viktor? He wasn’t an elusive hitman. He lived in plain sight. How did he keep his past a secret?”
“I don’t know.” Sokolov appeared at a loss.
“Wait...what about me?” Tav asked. “Is it safe for me to be here? What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Sokolov said.
“That’s what you said last time, and he did.”
“And we saved you.”
“Yeah, barely.” Tav wasn’t backing down.
This was going nowhere fast. “Tav, calm down. I don’t think he’ll come back here either, at least not right away. He’s injured from the accident, so he’s probably going to lay low for a while. You could always go back to the office, or to your mom’s.”
Tav made a face.
“I’ll put a guy outside just in case,” Sokolov suggested.
This time, I didn’t object.
103
Viktor knew he had to get off the street, fast. Luck was on his side, but for how much longer? He didn’t know. Dead is what he should have been. At the accident, the detective had the jump on him with his gun, but never got a shot off. Viktor didn't bother waiting around to see why. He ran as hard as he could away from the scene, sticking to the alleys behind the houses.
He popped out onto busy Geary Street, right in the heart of Little Russia. He was dizzy, tired, and his body ached all over. More than once he had lost his footing when his vision blurred too much, sending him tumbling on the ground. He had to get out of sight now. Viktor pushed forward into a nearby store.
Ding-dong the bell on the door chimed. The blond woman behind the desk looked up from her magazine only to see what surely was the devil staring straight at her.
With widened eyes and a cigarette dangling from her mouth, Elana Voronova said nothing as she stared back at the large figure blocking the only way out. His face was covered with splotches of dried blood; parts of his cheeks were stained black as if burned. His head was a sweaty mess. Heavy breaths moved in and out of his open mouth.
Elana sat frozen in her chair as she watched the hulking figure slowly take steps toward her. His left arm reached out and grabbed a hold of a shelf for balance. He’s injured. The threat she felt began to slowly subside, even though with each step, he got closer to her. She could tell the large man was weak, barely able to support himself.
Elana stood up and walked around her desk toward him. She reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Without warning, Viktor swung his arm up and clamped down on Elana’s neck and shoulder. She reached around and brought his arm around her and allowed him to use her for support as she led him into a tiny back room. In there was a cot where she would sometimes take naps. She laid him down and then fetched him bottled water.
Still no words had been spoken between the two, but trust was developing. Viktor had no choice but to trust. Elana still had a choice. She was the one in control.
Within seconds, the devil was asleep. Elana spent a few minutes cleaning most of the bloody grime off of his face. She stared at him for a few minutes and then left the room to make a call.
104
When I got to the hospital, Natasha was sleeping in a recovery room in the emergency ward. The doctors said that she had some bruising, but nothing serious. The seatbelt had prevented her from any real harm.
I sat near her bed and tucked her hand into mine. “Natasha,” I whispered.
The girl’s eyes fluttered for a moment and then opened. It only took a slight moment before she was able to respond. “Darby, you came to visit me.” She squeezed my hand.
“Of course. You are my guest. How did you like the visit to the hospital?” I joked. She giggled a little and then reached up to her head with a wince.
“Does it hurt much?”
She shook her head. “Only when I laugh, so behave yourself.”
“The doctors said that they want to keep you here for a few hours, for observation.”
“After that, we go to The Vic?”
“Yes, we go to The Vic. But this time, you will not be left alone. I want you to feel safe. I don’t want you to worry.”
“I feel safe with you and Tavish. What about Viktor? Did they catch him?”
“No, Natasha. Viktor escaped, but the police are working on it.”
Before coming to the hospital, I wondered if I should have told Detective Sokolov about Grigory Orlov and the apartment and the visitor or even about the brown car that followed me the night Viktor went on a rampage. I had turned over this information to Ivan Renko, trusting he would deal with it. I couldn’t risk the detective discovering my connection with a known criminal.
“Darby, I will have to leave soon. I spoke with Papa. He insists I fly home as soon as I can.”
“I understand. It’s probably best that you go.”
“I don’t want to go. I was having so much fun. I wish I could stay. I’m not afraid of him.”
“No, you’re not, but your father knows best.” Truth is, I didn’t need her father blaming me for anything happening to his daughter. He was a powerful man with a long reach. No need to create enemies in my business. What I need are allies.
105
Elana brought Viktor food and tended to his wounds for two days in the back room of the travel office. Still he told her nothing about himself. He didn’t care for conversation when she initiated it. It didn’t matter; she knew who he was. She knew he was member of the Vory v zakone and that he had ties with the Mafiya in Moscow. She also knew he was responsible for the death of Tatiana Galanova.
There he slept, helpless. She thought of killing him. She even held a large knife to his throat as he snored. Revenge was the best medicine, no? Tatiana was like a daughter to her. She was a bright girl who was working hard to
improve her life. She wanted better for herself. She even talked of coming to America for a new start. But now none of that was possible, all because of that pig that lay on Elana’s cot. It disgusted her how he could sleep so calmly, with all of the harm he had caused to others. Where was his conscience?
Later that day when she returned with Viktor’s dinner, she discovered the cot was empty. Viktor was gone. No note, no sign that he had been there was left behind—he simply vanished.
Thankfully, she had a plan.
106
Viktor hobbled up the front steps of Orlov’s apartment complex still clutching his side. It was a bruised rib most likely. He had waited for the blond woman to leave before making an escape. He had already stayed too long.
Once inside the lobby area, he rested against the wall and peered outside through the glass door. He was careful about being followed here.
The accident was an anomaly. Viktor had not expected it, nor did he have a contingency plan. Thankfully he found a kind Russian who knew not of his background. A miracle he thought, considering the circumstances.
He was rested, but still needed to recover. The detective had identified him. The ruse that his brother Sergei had so conveniently pulled off was over. Whether or not it was discovered that Viktor had a twin brother didn’t matter at this point. The detective would focus on hunting him here. But worse was the girl escaping him once again. He had planned on a marvelous evening with her back at the apartment, one that would violate her in ways she dare not imagine.
Viktor needed to make a decision. Was it worth staying in the city or was he better off cutting his losses and heading back to Belarus? Darby was no threat to him, nor was the girl. Well, there were plenty more where she came from. Everything he was doing was unnecessary and only put him, and now his brother, at risk.
