Assassin on Centauri B (Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal Book 7)

by John Bowers

  Reeling with shock, she nodded dumbly, staring at the keycard as if it might be radioactive.

  “Okay. Yeah, okay. I can—I can do that.”

  He kissed her on the forehead.

  “Good girl. Get going, now. I’ll come and get you.”

  He watched as Nicola stumbled out of the room. A moment later he heard the lift door open, and breathed a brief sigh of relief. He turned back to Diana, who stood staring at him, still shaken, but now in control.

  “That was a good story,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her, too.”

  “And you never will. She’s a sweet, innocent kid. I don’t want her hurt, by anybody.”

  “I know. I feel the same way.”

  He moved close and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you okay?”

  She swallowed, then nodded.

  “Da, I think so. I’m sorry I lost it like that. I didn’t think it would affect me so much.”

  “Killing someone is never easy. And this was family, so I can only imagine.”

  “I’ve hated them so much for so many years, I thought I would feel good about it. But I don’t.”

  “I understand. But your reasons are still valid, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. Revenge aside, the survival of the business depended on it.”

  Trembling, she bent to pick up her pistol. Nick watched her hand closely, but she slipped it into her purse, turned to him, and gazed into his eyes.

  “Thank you. For helping me. For being here.”

  He kissed her gently.

  “This was the hardest part. Now we have to pick up the pieces, put them back together. Where is Kozel?”

  “At the casino. He called in most of the loyalists on the pretext of helping clean up the damage; I think he’s going to kill them there.”

  He glanced around the room. “You and I never did discuss what to do with the bodies.”

  “Kozel will take care of that. After dark, he will collect them and bury them offshore.”

  “Okay, then we should probably join Kozel, don’t you think? There’s going to be a reaction when the employees find out about this, and it’s probably safer if we’re all in one place.”

  “I agree. I just hope nobody comes in here before we’re ready. It could cause problems.”

  “You said you trust Sasha and Aleksandr—maybe we should give them the same story we gave Nicola and have them seal this place off. Nobody will get past the two of them.”

  She smiled for the first time, relief in her eyes.

  “I like that idea. Let’s go find them.”

  As they rode the lift down, Nick’s mind continued to race. Not only had they failed to discuss body disposal, neither had they talked about possible press coverage, or police reaction. Diana didn’t seem to think Boris Nikolaev might be a problem, but Nick knew that Nikolaev could sink her entire agenda if he decided to make a play of his own. As head of MGB, he could arrest or kill the surviving Petreykins and take over the business for himself. It all depended on where his loyalties lay, how strong they were, and how ambitious he might be.

  One thing Nick knew for sure—he didn’t need to meet up with Nikolaev at this particular moment.

  The lift stopped at the mezzanine level and the door flashed open. Nick started to step out, but stopped. Two men were waiting for him, shoulder to shoulder, like a pair of gumshoe cops back home on Terra. They were stocky, wore cheap suits, and didn’t look especially bright. The minute they saw him, one held up a badge.

  “Nick Russo?”

  “Uh, yeah. Who are you?”

  “MGB. I’m Agent Volkov, and this is Agent Alexeev.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you know a Sergeant Polina Stepanova?”

  “I…don’t think so.”

  “She apparently knows you. She would like to have a word with you.”

  Nick’s danger flags began to snap, but before he could reply, Diana stepped forward, anger in her eyes.

  “What the hell is this? Nick is my employee! What does this Stepanova person want with him?”

  “No idea, Ma’am. We just follow orders.”

  “Tell her he’s busy. We had a bombing yesterday and I need him here. He can come down tomorrow.”

  “I understand, Ma’am, but I’m afraid that won’t work. Sergeant Stepanova was very insistent, and nobody wants to piss her off.”

  “Then tell her to come here. I simply cannot allow you to take him.”

  Nick stepped out of the lift and turned to Diana.

  “It’s okay. Probably a misunderstanding. I’ll go with them and explain things to this Sergeant whoever. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

  Unnoticed by the MGB agents, he winked as a warning. He stepped between them and turned toward the main entrance. Six steps later, he stopped and spun to face them.

  “By the way, what’s the password?”

  “The what?”

  “The password. Sergeant Stepanova told me that anybody she sent to fetch me would know the password.”

  “You said you didn’t know the sergeant,” Alexeev said.

  Nick whipped his hand out of his pocket with the .45 in his grip; both agents were taken by surprise as he pressed it against Alexeev’s forehead.

  “I lied. What’s the goddamn password?”

  Volkov didn’t miss a beat.

  “Volcano,” he said.

  “Wrong answer.” Nick dropped his aim and shot Alexeev in the foot.

  As Alexeev hit the floor with a scream and twisted in agony, Nick shifted his aim to Volkov, who was belatedly reaching for his gun. Volkov never got a chance to fire, nor did Nick—Diana killed him with a single shot to the back of his head.

  Nick leaped to the side as Volkov dropped, then stared at Diana.

  “You didn’t have to kill him.”

  “Yes, I did. You don’t shoot a cop—not even a crooked one—and expect it to be okay.”

  She took a step forward and shot Alexeev as well, ending his pain. Nick watched in dismay, with a growing feeling that things were spinning out of his control.

  Diana put her gun away and stepped over the two men, leading Nick back toward the mezzanine.

  “Boris is going to give me hell over this, but I think I can rein him in. But we need to finish what we started and finish it fast. That Stepanova is an iron-clad bitch and she won’t let this go.”

  “You know her?”

  “Da.” Diana stopped and pinned him with a suspicious expression. “How do you know her?”

  “I don’t. I was bluffing.”

  Diana nodded, as if she didn’t really care.

  “What do you think they really wanted?”

  “Hard to say, but I suspect this Pauline character found out I was working here and sent them to pick me up. I take it she isn’t a friend of the family?”

  It was thin and didn’t make a lot of sense, but Nick couldn’t tell her he had a warrant hanging over his head. Luckily, Diana wasn’t thinking as clearly as usual.

  “No, she’s just about the only cop over there who gives us a hard time.”

  “Why haven’t you dealt with her?”

  “Ivan Federov likes her. Every time the public starts making noise about what we do, she arrests somebody, and that makes Federov look good. Or he thinks it does, which is all that matters.”

  “What kind of guy is Federov?”

  “Personally, he is a nice man. The public likes him because he doesn’t appear to be corrupt; we like him because he knows his place. We try to make life easy for him so he can make life easy for us.”

  Nick nodded. Then why did he order me investigated?

  “Okay, we can discuss all this later. Right now, let’s find Sasha and Aleksandr and explain things.”

  Chapter 26

  Federation Embassy – Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri

  Connie Ventura closed her pocket phone and sat back in her chair. As a visiting agent, she had no workspace of her own, but t
he FIA provided temporary quarters and work facilities in the basement of the Federation Embassy.

  She didn’t like the way this mission was shaping up. Nick’s mission, when she was first briefed, had seemed impossible, something akin to suicide. In spite of all obstacles, he had so far survived and actually seemed to be making progress, but then things had started to unravel.

  Four bombs had destroyed some of Bratva’s merchants.

  Another bomb had obliterated Harbor Casino, with over six hundred casualties.

  War was brewing with the Patushkin family.

  Prime Minister Federov had ordered Nick investigated.

  Polina had stopped making contact, and was presumably arrested.

  A warrant had been issued for Nick’s arrest.

  And now, Diana Petreykin-Stepurin was about to murder most of her family and take control of the organization…

  And Nick wanted Connie to hide in the basement?

  Fat chance!

  Connie wasn’t trained for field work, had spent her entire career as an analyst, but sitting on the sideline when her friends were facing danger was not in her nature. She had a gun—a small one—and knew how to use it.

  More to the point, she was willing to use it.

  She had first met Nick on Tau Ceti 4, and instantly disliked him, so much that she had actually pulled a gun on him because she thought he was a threat to her mission; in the end he had blown her cover and she had returned to the Federation, but she couldn’t hold that against him. Her mission had been important, yes, but his was a matter of life and death. The man he was chasing had murdered thousands and had to be stopped.

  Nick had stopped him, and though Connie felt her contribution was a small one, Nick disagreed. They had become friends, and there was no way in hell she was going to abandon him now.

  She got up from her desk and went into her sleeping quarters, changed into a tight blouse, micro-skirt, and spiked heels; she brushed her long black hair until it gleamed, then tousled it to give it a sexy, windblown look—and finally brushed her face with cosmetics to make her even more alluring. She broke out a tube of LiquiStik and painted her lips, turned her head from side to side to survey the results—and was satisfied.

  She checked the loads in her five-shot .25 automatic and slipped it into her bra; she positioned three extra clips inside the elastic waistband of her pantyhose, easily accessible but—short of a strip search—hard to find. She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and breezed out of her quarters, up the lift to the parking garage, and checked out a hovercar.

  Twenty minutes later, she skimmed over the harbor and approached the island. The casino roof was intact, and from that angle the damage was difficult to see, but as she circled the parking lot, she saw fire damage. A dozen or more vehicles had been reduced to burnt-out hulks and the pavement around them, right up to the casino entrance, had bubbled up like lava. The glass and metal façade around the entrance had been destroyed, but the main structure, though scorched, was intact.

  She could only imagine what it looked like inside.

  The fire and police investigation must have been concluded—she didn’t see any official vehicles or personnel. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.

  Connie set her hovercar down fifty feet from the entrance, shut down her turbine, and climbed out. Slinging her purse again, she slipped on a pair of sun blinders and proceeded toward the burnt-out entrance of the building, hair and hips swinging. She hadn’t expected to make it without a challenge, and didn’t—two rough looking men intercepted her just before she reached the door…but not before she almost gagged on the stench that emanated from inside. Their faces were illustrated by tattoos, their heads were shaven. Their eyes were cold and unsympathetic.

  The taller one did all the talking.

  “Sorry, Miss, you cannot be here. This is crime scene.”

  Yeah, like you two are cops!

  She pulled off the sun blinders, her eyes reflecting alarm.

  “What happened here? I was supposed to meet my boyfriend this morning.”

  “We had fire yesterday. Casino is closed.”

  “Oh, God, that’s horrible! Was anyone hurt?”

  “Da, some people killed. Casino closed. You go now.”

  Connie slumped, distress in her eyes. She tilted her head in anxiety.

  “Was one of them Billy Shaw? That’s my boyfriend. He didn’t call me last night, so I hope—”

  “Sorry, Miss, no names released yet. You go now. No one allowed inside.”

  “Aw, gee!” She peered up at him and dredged up a couple of tears, which slid down her cheek. “Aw, gee!”

  She lowered her face into her hand and stood shaking her head, forcing a sob. The Bratva soldier looked suddenly uncomfortable.

  “So sorry, Miss, but my orders say you must go. Maybe check with authorities. I hope boyfriend is safe.”

  She nodded, lifted her chin and, lips pinched, made eye contact again. She nodded.

  “Thank you. You are so kind. Thank you.”

  She took a step forward and buried her face in his shoulder, then blurted out another sob, her shoulders shaking. He glanced at his partner, whose lips curled in amusement. He put both hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back.

  “Sorry, Miss. Please, you go now.”

  She stepped back and nodded again, wiping her eyes. She lifted her chin, sucked a deep breath, and swallowed down her distress.

  “Yes, you’re right. But first, I need to use the ladies’ room. Can I at least do that?”

  “Nyet, sorry. My orders—”

  “Oh, please! I’m about to split. I almost didn’t make it here from the city, and I’ll never make it back. I’ll only be a minute, I promise.”

  The Ruke looked even more uncomfortable. This woman was becoming a pain in the ass. He was already shaking his head when she pointed.

  “What about that man there, just inside the building? He looks like someone in charge. Let me ask him.”

  Before the Ruke could answer, Connie dashed ten steps into the building, waving one arm and calling out.

  “Excuse me! Sir? Are you in charge here?”

  The soldier hurried up behind her, but she already had the older man’s attention. Kozel Petreykin had been in conference with another man, but detached himself and came to meet her.

  “What is the problem, Ma’am?”

  “Sir, you look very busy and I don’t want to interrupt, but as I was telling this gentleman outside, I desperately need to use the restroom. I had way too much coffee this morning, and…” She managed to look abashed; she lowered her voice. “…and I’m getting my period. I really need to…well—you know…”

  Kozel stared at her a moment, saw her cheeks flush with embarrassment. He glanced at the soldier and, with a tilt of his head, sent him back outside. With a fatherly smile, he spoke gently.

  “You must not touch or take anything. You understand?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes! I swear, I’ll be out of here before you know it.”

  Kozel pointed toward the back of the main floor, where a broad corridor led to the facilities.

  “The restrooms are back there. Please stick to the aisles and do not step on carpet.”

  “Thank you. Are the lights on?”

  “Yes, we still have power.”

  She cast him a desperate smile. “Thank you! You are a real gentleman.”

  Before he could say anything else, she stepped into the aisle, just bare concrete, and quick-stepped toward the corridor. She didn’t dare look back, in case he changed his mind.

  The devastation was even worse than she had imagined. Everything within thirty or forty yards of the entrance had been pulverized; gaming tables were nothing but piles of ash, row upon row of slot machines had melted. The all-weather carpet had scorched and bubbled, and though she didn’t see any bodies, the smell of roasted flesh was overpowering.

  She could hardly believe Nick had been here and survived all this.

/>   She covered her mouth with a hand as she trotted even faster toward the ladies’ room, and not until she was inside its tiled protection was she able to catch a clear breath…and even here the smell was tangible.

  Shaking and fighting the urge to vomit, she washed her face and hands, then used the facilities to relieve herself. This was the worst thing she had ever seen, in or out of the FIA.

  She took a moment to compose herself, breathing deeply, then took stock. She was inside, but couldn’t remain for long; if she didn’t leave within a reasonable period of time, those men would come looking for her. She needed a place to hide, at least until Nick arrived. After that…she would wing it.

  ***

  Kozel Petreykin was mildly amused by the dark-skinned lovely who had begged to use his restroom. She was a cutie, for sure, and he wondered about her ethnicity. She had a Federation accent, but he heard those every day, as well as accents from every inhabited world in the galaxy. Harbor Casino was a must-stop for off-worlders, and no one cared where they came from, as long as their money was good.

  He turned his attention back to Nikita Potemkin, the casino’s head of security. Potemkin looked impatient at the interruption, but kept his opinion to himself. They had much more important matters to discuss.

  “Where are they now?” Kozel asked him in Rukranian.

  “They will be arriving in a few minutes. They are coming in two cars, five in one, six in the other.”

  “The device is set up?”

  “Da. In the overhead parking lot.”

  Kozel nodded, his expression grim.

  “We don’t want any accidents. Wait until they arrive, make sure of their identity, then tell them we have a change of plan. Send them to Rodina.”

  “Okay.”

  “When they are halfway to the harbor, activate the device. The water is deepest about a mile offshore, just before the breakwater. Do it there.”

  Potemkin nodded, but didn’t look happy.

  “I understand.” His tongue snaked out to moisten his lips.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Potemkin looked up at him, conflicted.

  “I don’t mean to question your authority, sir, but—are we absolutely positive about this? Could there possibly be a mistake?”