Call at once. Immediate withdrawal.
Too late for that, thought Connor. Regardless, he video-called headquarters.
Charley’s worried face appeared on the screen. ‘Connor! Where are you? What’s going on? We can’t make contact with anyone!’
Connor smiled beneath the wet cloth. ‘It’s good to see you, Charley.’
Her brow furrowed. ‘Connor, why are you wearing that rag? Are you all right?’
He was beginning to feel sleepy and his limbs heavy. It was hard to think straight. ‘We’ve … been attacked by Bratva enforcers,’ he explained. ‘Jason’s dead.’
‘No … not Jason!’ cried Charley, shaking her head. She ran her hands through her hair, struggling to compose herself. ‘Back-up is already headed for Malkov’s dacha. So tell me exactly where you are, Connor.’
Connor felt Anastasia slump against him. ‘We’re trapped in the cellar beneath the dacha … the Bratva have set fire to the house.’
‘Hold on, I’ll arrange for emergency services to respond immediately,’ said Charley. She picked up a phone and began dialling.
‘They’ll get here … too late,’ Connor slurred, his head drooping.
Tears began to run down Charley’s face and she pressed a finger tenderly to the screen. ‘Stay with me, Connor.’
He smiled weakly. ‘I’ll always … be with you.’
‘Connor, I love you.’
He looked at her, taking in the gentle curve of her chin, the bright blueness of her eyes and the soft sheen of her blonde hair. ‘I love you too, Charley.’
Then the phone slipped from his fingers.
Connor could hear Charley’s voice, distant and frantic, sounding from the phone at his feet. The glow from the screen did little to illuminate the cellar, but he could just make out Viktor and Feliks’s forms slumped against one another in the darkness. By now the heat had risen so much that it felt like a furnace rather than a wine cellar. Several bottles near the ceiling exploded, spilling their contents across the walls.
Connor’s head throbbed and nausea swept over him. He tried to pick up the phone, but his arm felt like lead. A lick of flame caressed the ceiling. Then another. Sparks rained down like falling stars as the blaze took hold and started to eat its way into the cellar.
Connor was fighting to keep his eyes open when the door to the kitchen burst open and Mr Grey appeared at the top of the stairs, flames rising behind him like he was the devil incarnate.
‘OUT!’ he yelled.
Viktor wearily rose, carrying his son with him. Helped by Mr Grey, they climbed the stairs and disappeared through the doorway. Connor knew with grim certainty that the assassin wouldn’t come back for them. So, in one last superhuman effort, he willed himself to his feet and dragged the barely conscious Anastasia up after them. Each step was like climbing Everest, with his head spinning and legs that seemed made of lead. At one point he almost toppled backwards down the steps, but managed to grab hold of the rail and steady himself.
When Connor finally reached the top, he discovered the kitchen ablaze. The flames were so fierce and the heat so intense that his skin was instantly scorched and his hair singed. But Mr Grey had set up a garden hose to spray water at full blast into the room. While it couldn’t stop the fire, the fountain of water was enough to reduce the flames and create a narrow pathway through to the back door.
Connor staggered out, stumbled another few paces until they were a safe distance from the dacha, then collapsed in a heap. The ice-cold air and freezing snow felt heavenly after the hellish heat of the fire. He lay there a moment, allowing his cheeks to cool against the snow and inhaling lungfuls of sweet oxygen. Once his headache had faded and his senses returned, he put Anastasia into the recovery position and got unsteadily to his feet.
The dacha was a raging inferno, its charred skeleton wreathed in yellow and red flames, thick black smoke swirling into the bleak sky like a tornado.
Mr Grey stood guard beside Viktor, who was checking on Feliks, his son weak and listless but alive. Blood ran down the assassin’s right-hand sleeve where a bullet had clipped his arm. And there was a cut on his left cheek. Otherwise he appeared relatively unscathed.
The same couldn’t be said for the Bratva enforcers. Their bodies were dotted round the dacha like discarded bags of rubbish. Mr Grey had laid waste to them. The krysha closest to Connor exhibited a classic double tap to the chest and one to the head. Mozambique drill, Connor thought absently and then remembered with sadness Jason entombed in the snow at the bottom of the garden. He had to go back and retrieve his fallen friend. The thought of it filled him with grief. Jason had paid the heaviest price to save him and Connor dreaded telling the other members of Alpha team about his tragic death.
‘It’s over,’ Mr Grey declared, having completed his sweep of the grounds.
Viktor smiled with relief and went to shake his protector’s hand when –
‘Not quite,’ said Anastasia, now standing with an SPS handgun aimed at Viktor’s chest. ‘You’re a very hard man to kill, Mr Malkov.’
Everyone stood perfectly still, as ash and snow fell around them, mottling the garden a funeral grey. Viktor had his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Feliks knelt beside his father, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. Mr Grey had automatically reached for his Ruger pistol, but Connor noticed the slide was locked out, indicating the magazine was spent. Connor simply stared at Anastasia, unable to believe what she was doing. For a brief moment he wondered where she’d found the gun, then remembered her snatching it from the krysha who’d shot Jason.
Connor took a careful step towards her … then stopped as her eyes flicked in his direction, their icy glare warning him to stay back. ‘Anastasia, put the gun down,’ he urged. ‘You’re delirious from the fumes.’
‘My name’s not Anastasia,’ she replied curtly, the pistol not wavering. ‘It’s Nadia.’
Connor blinked in bemused shock. Nadia? She was delirious.
Ignoring him, she addressed the billionaire. ‘My father was Anton Surkov. My mother was Talya Surkov. My little brother was –’ her voice cracked – ‘Piotr Surkov.’
Viktor looked at her blankly. ‘Am I supposed to know these people?’
‘You should do,’ she spat. ‘You’re responsible for their deaths.’
‘Me?’ he exclaimed, genuinely surprised. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Nadia sneered. ‘Of course you don’t. Why would you? We were just farmers. You were the mayor of Salsk.’
Viktor screwed up his face. ‘That was some ten years ago.’ He frowned more deeply. ‘Surkov? Now I come to think of it, I do recall that name. Wasn’t there some fire at their farmhouse? Very sad. Everyone died, from what I remember.’
‘Not quite everyone,’ said Nadia, her finger tightening on the trigger.
Viktor held out a hand to ward off the attack. ‘B-b-but what have I got to do with the fire?’ he stuttered, a panicked sweat breaking out on his brow. ‘It was a tragic accident. I didn’t kill your parents.’
‘You may not have pulled the trigger, but you’re the one who loaded the weapon.’ Her eyes blazed, all her rage focused on her bewildered target. But Connor saw Mr Grey’s left hand sliding surreptitiously into his back pocket, clearly preparing to make a move. Not liking where the situation was headed, Connor subtly reached for the SIG on his hip.
‘The fire was no accident,’ continued Nadia. ‘It was to cover up the attack by the Boykov Bratva. An attack you sanctioned as mayor, because my father was planning to resist and expose the corruption in your administration.’
‘Ana – Nadia, are you sure you’ve got the right person here?’ Connor interrupted. ‘Mr Malkov is the one fighting corruption in Russia.’
Nadia let out a hollow laugh. ‘He’d like everyone to believe that. As Lenin once said, a lie told often enough becomes the truth. And, Viktor, you’ve told yourself the lie so many times even you believe it! But you’re the corruption that needs to be
rooted out. The cancer that needs eliminating.’
Viktor raised his hands higher. ‘Believe me, I had nothing to do with that attack. You’re clearly confused and in shock. Your mind’s been twisted by today’s events. Now be a good girl and put the gun down, then we can forget all about this.’
‘I can never forget about it,’ snapped Nadia, a slight tremble in her hands as she tried to hold the gun steady. ‘Every time I close my eyes. Every time I go to sleep. I see my father burning. My mother bleeding on the kitchen floor. And I hear my baby brother screaming, screaming … until his cries are silenced by a gunshot.’
‘I’m truly aggrieved to hear that. It must be a living nightmare,’ said Viktor, his voice soothing and calm. ‘But, if you’ll let me, I can help you hunt down these criminals and bring them to justice.’
‘I already have,’ said Nadia coolly. ‘You’re the last on my kill list.’
Viktor’s eyes widened in disbelieving horror.
Nadia took a step closer to him. ‘I know you were involved because I heard the Bratva scum who murdered my father say, “You can let the mayor know the weeds were rooted out before they got a chance to grow.” And he was telling that man.’ She turned the gun on Mr Grey.
The assassin froze, his hand still behind his back. ‘You were the one in the cellar,’ said Mr Grey, more a confirmation than a question.
Connor was stunned. She was apparently telling the truth.
Nadia gave a single nod. ‘I didn’t recognize you, Mr Grey. Not until today at least. You’re strangely forgettable. But I remembered the one with the dagger tattoo on his neck. The one who ordered my brother to be shot. The one who locked me in the cellar and set my house on fire. I didn’t know his name or how to find him – as I did with Viktor – but his face and dagger tattoo were burnt into my memory, just like the scars on my back!’
Like a bolt of lightning Connor suddenly knew who she was talking about – Lazar! Viktor’s personal bodyguard – he’d had a dagger tattoo on his neck. And it was Anastasia – or rather Nadia – who’d suggested the meeting in Red Square straight after she’d learnt that the bodyguard had been assigned to protect Feliks. It now struck Connor that Feliks had never been the target. ‘So you were the sniper who shot Lazar?’
Nadia smiled, not with her usual warmth but with the hard edge of revenge. ‘Yes, Connor. It was luck, or maybe fate, that I crossed paths with Lazar again. Whatever, I’m thankful for the chance I had to take revenge on my father’s killer. And that’s when all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Seeing Lazar, I had a flashback and recalled the lowlife who shot my brother. That’s why Timur met his end with the bomb. It was meant to take out Viktor as well. But, as I said, he’s a very hard man to kill.’
‘But that bomb hurt so many more than just Timur,’ said Connor, horrified. ‘Innocent people died.’
‘None of Viktor’s men are innocent,’ she snapped. ‘They’re all ex-Bratva. Every one of them has blood on their hands – if not my family’s, then countless other innocent people’s. Besides, the assassination was planned to be so much cleaner.’
She swung the gun back to Viktor. ‘You were always my main target. I’ve spent my life preparing to kill you. Ten years in hiding, training with Chechen rebels, learning how to shoot, fight, flirt, assume another’s identity … every conceivable skill I might need to assassinate you. I first tried to poison you at the restaurant but we were interrupted when you were arrested by FSB agents. Then it became a waiting game until I could get close enough to you again. When you invited me to stay at your dacha, I knew this would be my golden opportunity. I’d planned to shoot you last night, but Connor put a stop to that.’
‘I did?’ queried Connor.
Nadia gave him a pitying look. ‘For a trained bodyguard, you sometimes overlook the obvious. Who’d practise the violin in the middle of the night? My case contained my gun. It was the only way I could smuggle a weapon through Malkov’s security.’
Connor couldn’t believe he’d been deceived so easily. He now recalled Nadia fleeing the scene at Red Square. She’d had her violin case with her there too. It must have concealed her sniper rifle! ‘Can you even play the violin?’ he asked.
Nadia gave him a wry smile in answer, then turned back to Viktor. Behind them the dacha groaned, then roared like a dying beast as the building collapsed in a fury of flaming timbers, flying sparks and billowing smoke.
‘You burned my house to the ground. Now yours burns to the ground,’ said Nadia with grim satisfaction. She aimed the gun directly at Viktor’s heart. ‘You took away my family, my home and my life. Now I will take yours.’
‘Please, NO!’ Viktor begged, his face a picture of true remorse. ‘You have to understand that was the only way to exert authority back then. The nail that stuck out had to be hammered down. The Bratva had a stranglehold over me. But everything I have done since is to repent for those sins.’
Nadia snorted with disdain. ‘What difference does that make to me and my murdered family?’
‘Our Russia could be a new start for this country,’ Viktor went on, wearing the oily smile of a politician. ‘We’re on the cusp of a big change. No more Bratva. No more corruption. You kill me … you kill the hope that your father died for.’
Nadia appeared to waver a moment. Then she gave a slow shake of the head. She clearly didn’t believe him. Nor did Connor. Viktor had not only admitted his guilt; his supposed redemption was a lie. In ten years the billionaire hadn’t changed at all. Connor had seen the man’s true nature when he’d ordered Mr Grey to murder Dmitry in cold blood. And, although Viktor might no longer be associated with the Bratva and had every intention of bringing them and the government down, Connor knew the billionaire was connected to an organization seemingly far more sinister and dangerous – Equilibrium.
Connor found himself in a quandary. He was employed by Viktor. His duty lay with protecting Feliks. And Nadia had deceived him about her identity and her motives. Yet he and Jason had deceived her too about their roles. He’d also promised to protect her. On top of that, Viktor, believing his own lies, was the biggest deceiver of them all.
Out of the corner of his eye Connor noticed Mr Grey creeping forward. He drew his SIG Sauer pistol and took aim on the assassin. ‘Stay back!’ he warned.
Mr Grey stopped in his tracks, eyeing him with snake-like suspicion. ‘Careful, Connor, which side you choose.’
‘I think it’s pretty clear which side I’ve chosen.’
Mr Grey shook his head in what looked like disappointment. ‘I’m warning you, don’t get in the way of Equilibrium’s interests.’
Connor kept his gun trained on the assassin. ‘And I’m warning you to leave Nadia alone.’
A cold sliver of a smile slid across the assassin’s lips. ‘I admire your courage, Connor, but I don’t believe you’ve the guts to pull that trigger.’
‘Well, do you have the guts to find out?’ countered Connor.
Mr Grey didn’t respond. But neither did he move.
‘Surely we can settle this without further bloodshed,’ said Connor, his muzzle not wavering from the assassin. But his resolve to pull the trigger was wavering. He didn’t want to shoot anyone, not even Mr Grey. ‘Nadia, think about what you’re doing. Didn’t someone once say, an eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind? Killing Mr Malkov won’t bring back your family. Report his crime to the authorities instead. Have him arrested. Tried in court. He’ll be jailed for life and justice would be served.’
‘Connor, you’re so naive,’ said Nadia. ‘That might work in your country. But this is Russia. Money and power rule here. Even if the police believed me and arrested him, he’d just bribe his way to freedom. But this –’ she held up the gun – ‘is true Russian justice!’
The moment she took her aim off the billionaire, Mr Grey rushed at her, a glint of steel betraying the knife in his hand. At the same time Viktor went for the rifle slung over his shoulder. Caught between the two deadly threats, Nad
ia faltered for a fraction of a second before zeroing in on the billionaire. But Mr Grey was quick, covering the distance in a few paces. Seeing the assassin’s blade slicing for her throat, Connor instinctively pulled the SIG’s trigger. The pistol kicked, a crack like thunder splitting the air, and Mr Grey was blown off his feet. A second later another gunshot rang out. Viktor was hit square in the chest, but miraculously managed to keep on his feet.
He laughed at Nadia.
‘Stupid girl!’ he spat, chambering his rifle to return fire. ‘Have you forgotten that I wear a bulletproof vest?’
‘No,’ she replied, her eyes like ice. ‘Armour-piercing bullets.’
Viktor glanced down in shock and saw the blood seeping through a hole in his jacket. Only now did his brain register that he’d actually been shot.
‘Our Russia votes you out,’ declared Nadia as he slumped to the ground.
Even though Malkov was dead, Nadia kept her gun held out, a faint vapour trail of smoke rising from the SPS’s muzzle. She appeared to be in a daze, as spent as the shell casing that had fallen at her feet. Then her arm fell limp at her side, the weapon dropping to the snow with a soft thunk.
Connor cautiously approached, one eye on Nadia and the other on Mr Grey, who lay sprawled on the ground, his body lifeless. The assassin had been wrong about the first time being the hardest. In the heat of the moment Connor had found the trigger all too easy to pull. It was the aftermath that was hard to cope with. He’d taken a man’s life and the weight of it hung heavy on his conscience. He knew he’d had no choice, that Mr Grey would have killed Nadia with a vicious slice of his blade if Connor hadn’t pulled the trigger. But that fact didn’t dull the deep shock he was feeling.
It appeared that Nadia was also stunned by her actions. She stared blankly at the man responsible for her family’s brutal murder. ‘I thought I’d feel happier, my grief lessened,’ she murmured. ‘But I just feel … empty.’
Bodyguard (Bodyguard 5) Page 24
