He taps his nose as if I've said something clever. "Now you see. But Nikolai grows tired of his jobs, so he must be taken care of. I like Nikolai, but Nikolai does not follow rules. Is not personal. Just business. You understand these things."
But I don't. Not really.
It must be obvious on my face, because Vasily sighs and mutters something in Russian. "What is it you think Nikolai does, little one?"
I thought Nick would tell me in time. That he would come to trust me. But it's not making sense. Why would someone that works in computers be in so much trouble? "A computer hacker?"
Vasily laughs. His big shoulders shake with mirth. "Computers? Computers, she says." He laughs and laughs. "You are very sweet, little Daisy Miller. Perhaps it is this he is drawn to." His gaze sharpens and he stares at me. "Tell me, if I threw you down on the floor and fucked you, would I be the first one?"
I gasp and jerk backward, shocked.
But he only nods. "Da. I suspected as much. It is written on your face. A virgin. No wonder Nikolai is beside himself with lust. Rarer than unicorns in this age." Again, that tattooed finger wags in my face. "You are worth far more than your friend. Is why Yury will not touch you, though I know he would love to fuck with Nikolai by hurting you." He shrugs.
"What are you?" I whisper. "What is Nick?"
Vasily pats the breast of his jacket, where I know he keeps his gun. "Can you not guess, little innocent Daisy? Even after all these hints?"
I shake my head. I am blank. I am numb. I have nothing left to draw on.
"I am ubitsya. Assassin. Hitman." His smile is thin and bitter. "I kill for money. Just like your Nikolai." The fingers fan out, splaying the tattoo on the knuckles. So like Nick's. The expression in his eyes so similar. And I know it is the truth.
I am going to be sick.
Chapter Twelve
NIKOLAI
I DO NOT LIKE LEAVING Daisy to fly to Seattle to study and plan for the hit I will carry out for the Watchmakers, but it seems important that I obtain the details necessary to carry out this contract. I am unsure what the resolution with Sergei will be but it is unlikely that I will survive it. I want to make sure Daisy is taken care of. This last hit will add to my bank account. I've never thought of what I would do with the money when I am gone, and I'd had no incentive to spend much while I was still alive. The hollow feeling of hunger is never far away.
A local kennel agrees to watch the dog while I am in Seattle. Not having a good story thought up about the dog, I’ve kept his existence a secret from Daisy. So many secrets I keep from her. I inform Sergei that Mr. Brown is taken care of and that I’ll be moving on to my next hit. If he needs me, I will be in Seattle and away from Daisy.
On my way to Russia, I will need to stop in Switzerland, make a visit to the bank and ensure that Daisy can access the funds whenever she likes. I have to make a list of things to take care of. Take care of the surgeon for the Watchmakers. Eliminate Sergei. Provide for Daisy. I begin with the doctor. He has a regular routine.
While he is at work, his two kids at school, and his wife busy in the neighbor's bed, I go through his papers. Most of it he keeps on the computer in a locked folder. Password locked, not even encrypted. I shake my head at his poor attempts at security. The password-protected folder is opened with a few keystrokes, and I copy the spreadsheet and documents onto my flash drive and leave.
The spreadsheet shows income from the sale of harvested organs. There are notations by each. A, D, Dx. Alchol, drugs, disease. He is selling tainted organs, which makes sense. He cannot sell the pure organs. Those would be noticed. But drug addicts, alcoholics, street people would provide a decent supply source. Likely the transplant doctor's organs have killed the wrong recipient, and now he is going to pay.
My fingers hesitate over the keyboard. In the past, this information would have been sufficient for me to carry out my task without question. It is not a child or a mother. But now, I wonder who my client is. Who is the injured party? I never entertain these morality questions, only maintained a few boundaries. To do otherwise would lead to madness. Do the hit. It's just a job.
I push away from the desk and lift my phone to text Daisy. It is the afternoon. She could be sleeping. Her night schedule is wreaking havoc with her body, she tells me. She felt like she was coming down with something. I need to take her away to somewhere warm, perhaps the Maldives. There are some private islands where she can recuperate and we could make love without worry of gas stations or Sergei. After, then. I allow myself just a glimmer of hope.
After.
Decision made, I return to the computer and type in a search for "failed organ transplant." There are many results, but one news article stands out. A twelve-year-old daughter of a Swiss banker has passed away due to some long-term illness. Ahh. That is it then. The dangers of the black market where unregulated goods are traded with regularity.
Desperate people take desperate action. I understood this nameless man’s grief and his pursuit of some kind of justice. But I despair at the ephemeral nature of it all. Taking out this one transplant surgeon only means that others will take his place. The market will still exist. The market for illegal goods, for depraved acts, for weapons and drugs will continue, no matter how many people I eliminate.
The inscription on my chest itches. Is death the mercy that I promise? I’ve not found peace in these years of killing.
No, peace is life with Daisy, on her farm, watching her grow round with my child. Peace is a future without killing, without the Bratva. Someone else could take my place, but I'd need to secure our future. First, by taking down this trauma surgeon and then by eliminating Sergei in such a way that Daisy and I would be untouchable.
The information Mr. Brown imparted was helpful. He had heard Alexsandr’s seditious whisperings that he was unhappy with Sergei’s decisions for the Bratva. Mr. Brown thought to bring all the information he had been compiling on Sergei to Alexsandr in hopes that Alexsandr would pat him on the head and send him safely away. But Alexsandr wasn’t the general of the Petrovich Btrava just because he was a brilliant military man. No, Alexsandr loved the Petrovich family. He was a distant relative, and he may have loved a Petrovich daughter. In the end, Alexsandr’s loyalties were with the Bratva.
But the information Mr. Brown compiled was too valuable not to use, and so Alexsandr must have demanded a change. Change came. Sergei killed Alexsandr, and now Vasily is the general. But I have the information now, secrets like the ones Sergei has on so many others, and that information will be used to buy safety for Daisy and myself.
I drive along Interstate 5 to ascertain the best location for the kill shot. It takes me three passes to determine the best one. About three kilometers south of the hospital, the highway runs along a rundown neighborhood filled with graffiti, empty apartment buildings, and abandoned railroad tracks. A look through one of the buildings sitting some distance off the freeway shows evidence of it being a drug house. Perfect. Mr. Blue, as I have named him, visits a woman who is not his wife every Tuesday. The woman lives south of the hospital on Ranier Beach.
I take my binoculars and go from room to room to ascertain the best location for my hit. I make a tiny "X" on the floorboards marking the optimal position of my SAKO rifle. I'd have to drive here. This would take at least forty-eight hours, but for now, I will return to home, report back to Neuchâtel, and hold Daisy.
They will give me the final details, and then the hit will be done. Now, though, Sergei.
Sergei will require a transatlantic flight, first to Switzerland and then on to Moscow. I could be gone for up to two weeks, but I couldn't leave Daisy for that long. Would she consider a trip abroad? That was a risky undertaking, but having her with me seems safer than her staying here to be robbed or raped at the gas station.
I bring up the security feed to the gas station. Another person is there. Not Daisy but it is early yet. She will not appear until later. I check my car's GPS. I wanted her to take that to work instead
of public transportation. Daisy had argued, but I'd left her the keys. The car is still sitting in the parking spot between our two apartments.
I'd text her then.
Miss you. Will return tomorrow.
I receive no response.
She is sleeping then. I should sleep so that I am well rested when I see her tomorrow. I will be able to plan for Sergei better.
Thoughts of Daisy warm in her bed arouse me. In the shower, I take myself in hand, the warm wet of the water and the slick of the soap eases my strokes. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the tiled wall. The remembrance of my fingers inside Daisy rocks me. She was slick and so tight. I had a hard time fitting both fingers in, and after she'd come, her walls were so swollen that even one finger seemed too immense for her. The thought of pushing in between that tight cunt of hers makes me shudder. I squeeze my cock tighter, imagining that it was her flesh that surrounded me.
She is eager, my Daisy. She would cling to my shoulders and the tiny heels of her feet would press into my low back as she urges me closer. I would pump inside of her, slow at first and then faster as I feel her clench her tight heat around me.
I'd need her mouth on mine. I'd need to fuck her mouth with my tongue as I fuck her cunt with my cock. I'd want to surround her with my arms, my body, and my scent. Instead of coming inside her, I would pull out and spray my semen on her stomach. Then I would rub it in until she had absorbed every ounce of me.
I come in my hand, spurting long jets of ropey semen into the shower. My hand is no replacement for Daisy, and I feel myself harden again, just at the thought of her name. With a flick of my wrist, I turn the water icy cold and stand there until my erection has subsided and I am nearly blue with the cold.
Sergei would need to be taken care of in less than a week. I cannot wait for Daisy much longer. If I don’t end this now, I will not be able to think of anything but her and her warm welcoming body.
I check my phone once again, but there is no return text. The feed from the gas station shows the owner behind the counter. He looks unhappy. Perhaps Daisy is sick and stayed home. Maybe she would be fired. The thought fills me with more pleasure than it ought to.
The bed beckons to me, and with the phone in one hand and the other languidly jacking my cock, I think of Daisy until I drift off.
The buzz of my phone wakes me at once. I jackknife into a sitting position, my heart pounding. Daisy. I know it must be her.
"Allo," I answer immediately. She must be sick. I will be on the first flight home. Punching in the airline address, I start searching for the earliest flight from Seattle.
"Allo, Nikolai."
Dread wraps its fingers around my heart. I quickly look at the phone. It is from Daisy's number.
"You are a dead man, Sergei." I spit into the phone.
He laughs at me. "I can hardly believe that you've been late on your assignment because of a girl! A girl, Nikolai." He sounds joyous and amused. I'd cut out his tongue and make him eat it. "I actually thought you might be a boy lover given your purported monk-like existence. That last whore you hired in Amsterdam a few months back said that you looked like you were fucking a pillow you were so disinterested."
I hiss. Sergei had been tracking my activities for far longer than I'd expected. "Why?"
"Well, that's the right question to ask me. I thought for sure you'd parcel out more threats, but we both know that's a worthless endeavor." Sergei pauses, inviting me to say something, but I bite my tongue until I taste the tang of blood. "Why? Because I knew when I killed Alexsandr the lot of you hungry animals would come after me."
The animals? He must be referring to the other boys, the other hired killers that Alexsandr had trained. It did not occur to me that others would want to avenge him. What was it that Daniel had said? That I was not alone.
"You've misjudged then," I say, trying to sound calm and unaffected, but how can I? He must have Daisy. She is in their grasp. He could be trying to addict her to drugs. He could be—my thoughts splinter. I cannot think of Daisy like that.
"You know, we didn't know which one of these girls was yours, because this fancy phone with your number on it was in the blonde's possession, but we figured out with a little persuasion that it was the flower you were fucking." He pauses to take a breath and a swallow. Probably drinking vodka. "I've not taken her, your Daisy, because she's a virgin." Sergei sounds amazed.
I mute the phone and take the chair I was sitting on and bash it against the desk until it is in pieces.
Sergei is talking in the background. "I've never found the US to be much of a marketplace. Most of the girls there are dried up before they exit their teen years, but this one is what, twenty, and still a virgin? I'm delighted! I have just the businessman in mind for her. He sadly has syphilis from one of the products that was infected by Harry, but he'll be so happy to get this one. I think he believes that if he fucks enough virgins he'll be cured."
Sergei laughs, and I squeeze the broken wood so tightly in my hand that I begin to bleed in three places. It is enough to keep my voice level.
"I cannot imagine why you are calling me with this tale, Sergei. I took care of your accountant."
"You were supposed to bring him back, not kill him," Sergei thundered. He pounds his fist against the table so loud I hear it through the phone.
His show of anger has a calming effect on me. I open my laptop and pull up the GPS of Daisy's phone. The satellites take a moment, but she is pinpointed south of Moscow, at the location of the Petrovich country estate. It is a large, wooded compound complete with guards, fences, dogs, and trees. I copy those coordinates and send them to Daniel. If I am not alone, then this is his opportunity.
DAISY
WHEN WE LAND, MY HANDS are zip-tied together behind my back. Yury places a pillowcase over my face, and I am led down stairs, across the tarmac, and into a car. I’m shivering with cold—and fear—but no one offers me a jacket. I’m tossed into the back seat of a car, the door shut behind me. All around me, there are people speaking in Russian, but no one seems even slightly concerned that they have a bound, hooded captive.
I wiggle around in the back seat of the car as it drives, but I am the only one back here. Regan is not with me. Fear strikes my heart, and I wonder where they have taken her. Why are we being sent to two different places?
Even though I am terrified, I am exhausted. I fall asleep in the car, so I don’t know how long we travel. I wake up when the car jerks to a halt. I listen for doors to open and close, so I can count how many people are here.
I only hear one. That means there is just one person with me. I can take out one person, can’t I? I flex my fingers behind my back and twist my wrists. The zip-ties are cutting into my skin. It hurts, but the hurt is minor compared to the fact that I am helpless this way.
The back door opens, and someone grabs me by my legs. "Get out," I hear a voice say, and I’m disappointed to realize that it’s Yury. I’ve been left alone with the person that scares me worse than Vasily. Vasily doesn’t like me, but to him, I am a chess piece to be moved about.
Yury hates me because I tasered him in the balls. I’m terrified of what he will do to retaliate.
I wriggle my way out of the back seat and get to my feet. I’m unsteady, weaving. I haven’t eaten since before heading to work, and I feel shaky and weak. My mouth is dry, and I have to pee, but I’m afraid to ask.
Rough hands grab my arm and drag me forward, leading me. I stagger as I walk, but Yury is moving at a brisk pace, and it’s difficult for my shorter legs to keep up. He’s not a very good guide, either. I stumble when my ankle hits something—maybe a curb? Then, a moment later, my face slams into something so hard I nearly black out.
Yury laughs, the sound cruel. "Stupid pizda. How can I be responsible for your well-being if you keep running into walls?"
Blood runs down my nose and into my mouth, and my entire face throbs and feels swollen. My teeth ache and I want to cry from the pain, but I bite m
y lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction. This is how he will hurt me. Vasily’s boss wants me as a bargaining tool, but Yury will just make me miserable because he can. When he jerks at my arm, trying to pull me forward again, I hunch my shoulders, preparing for another wall, but there is nothing.
And then I am inside somewhere.
I can tell we’re indoors; the air has changed, and our shoes make an echoing noise like we are in a big building. I still have the hood on, so I can’t see anything. Yury’s hand on my upper arm pinches terribly as he drags me forward, and then he slams me into metal that bangs against my shins. "Sit down."
I try to feel things out with my leg. It’s a metal chair, I think. I gingerly sit on it and wait, my hands aching from the tie, my face and arms feeling like one giant bruise. It’s too quiet. I want Regan back. Even knowing she is at my side would make things less miserable.
But I am alone with Yury.
The hood whips off my face a moment later, and I blink at my surroundings as my hair flies about my face in a cloud of static. We are in a warehouse of some kind. It’s empty, though, rows of nearby metal shelves have nothing but dust on them. A single lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, and everything is dark and ominous. There are folding metal chairs in front of a small card table, and this is where I am seated. Yury is hovering at my side.
He glares down at my face and cusses something in Russian. Then, he pinches the bridge of my nose. "Does this hurt?"
It hurts, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of telling him so. I jerk away from his grip.
He grunts. "Good. Is not broken. Sergei would have my hide if I permanently defaced his little moneybag." He gives me a cold smile. "You had me scared for a moment there."
I glare at him, my face throbbing where he pinched it. "Are you going to sell me back to Nick? Is that the plan?"
Yury stares at me. Then he laughs as if I have said something hilarious. "You seem to think your boyfriend will be alive long enough to buy you back. You are funny woman."
Last Hit (Hitman) Page 21
