At exactly 1 p.m. it began.
The convoy was about an hour outside of Lviv when the first security car exploded into an unrecognizable heap of burning, twisted metal. The entire caravan had no choice but to come to a grinding stop. The second security car in front the bus, while not destroyed, was heavily damaged, with licks of fire making their way out from under the hood. If anyone in the second car survived the blast, they would have been too injured to do anything about it. The explosion, the caravan coming to a halt, it all took exactly five seconds—just as planned.
Viktor yawned as he sat calmly in his seat.
Behind the bus, six SUVs pulled up alongside the remaining two security cars, three on each side. Each one was filled with heavily armed men. Two of the SUVS continued on to the bus.
The remaining SUVs unloaded a storm of bullets from both sides shredding the two security cars like heads of cabbage against a new grater. The security detail was able to get one shot off. It missed.
The other two cars that drove ahead stopped on either side of the bus and began firing on the guards. It was ten against the SBU’s four guards and their lightly armed driver.
Scratch that. Just the guards now.
The security guards got lucky and put down two of the attackers as they exited an SUV. But by now, the other vehicles had caught up to the bus and masked men began exiting the vehicles and assaulting the bus.
Viktor joined his men on the floor the second the bus took fire. The first two from his crew to hit the floor did so because of multiple bullets to the head.
One of them shouted, “Viktor, what is happening?”
Viktor turned his head to the man and just smiled.
“You knew all along?”
Viktor said nothing and waited.
The masked men advanced on the bus, shooting relentlessly and stopping only to reload. The four guards were running low on ammo, their last clips locked and loaded. Thirteen, twelve, eleven… ten, nine… eight, seven, six, five… their bullets counted down.
A booming sound reverberated throughout the bus as the back door was blown off. The front door followed a second later. The attacking men filed in. The guards were dead men standing the second the bomb went off.
Chapter 45
Odessa, Ukraine
Valery Buchko looked at his wife and sighed. His face said it all. Irina knew right then and there that Viktor Kazapov had escaped. Valery hung the phone up and sat down, his head now in his hands.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?”
Valery nodded without looking up towards Irina.
“The caravan was hit. All the guards are dead. Viktor and his men were missing when the police arrived.”
“Why are we only finding out now?”
“The prison officials, the SBU—they were too embarrassed. They tried to find Viktor first, but no luck.”
Irina sank into her chair. Everything they had done in the last few weeks was slowly unraveling, becoming a distant memory. If Viktor was free, what would stop him from coming after the family? “What do we do now, Valery?”
“I will put extra security around the house and the children.”
“What about Viktor?”
“One of the guards, surprisingly, was still alive when help arrived. He said the entire ordeal took no more than fifteen minutes. They were overwhelmed by the sheer firepower of the attackers. He said Viktor and four of his men escaped. It sounds like it was planned and arranged by someone on the outside. Viktor would not have been able to plan this under his tight security.”
“Another gang?” Irina asked.
“No. Someone with more power, more reach, planned this operation. A brutal escape in the middle of day? Out on the open highway? These men were professionals, highly trained.”
“Where is Viktor now?”
“We are not sure. Borders and airports are closed, but what good is that when you deal with a man who seems to have unlimited resources? It would not surprise me if he is already outside of the country.”
They both sat quietly in Valery’s study, comprehending the news.
The long beep of the phone broke the silence. Valery picked it up.
“Yes, okay. Put him through… Hello, Darby… Are you sure? … Yes, it is true. Viktor escaped while being transported from one jail to another. We only found out ourselves a few minutes ago. Lots of people died, twenty guards total… How was he able to reach you? … Hmm. I wouldn’t worry too much, Darby. It is impossible for Viktor to fly to United States. He is on no-fly list. His picture is everywhere. I don’t think Viktor will come for you. Too much trouble and not worth it. His focus will be on getting his operation back up and running… I know.”
Irina moved next to Valery. “Put the call on speaker. I want to hear.”
“Darby, I’m with Irina. I put you on speakerphone. Can you hear us?”
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“Hello, Darby. It’s Irina. Did Viktor contact you?”
“Yes. He rang me through Skype no more than ten minutes ago.”
“What did he say?” Valery asked.
“I didn’t give him time to say anything. Once I saw that evil grin on his face I disconnected the call and shut down my laptop.”
“Darby, my government will do everything possible to catch Viktor. We will bring him to justice. The borders are closed.”
“How do you know he isn’t already outside of the Ukraine? How secure is the border?”
Valery paused for a moment. “The truth is, the borders are easily crossable. If he has left Ukraine, he most likely will head north to Belarus. He has many allies in this country.”
“How helpful will the Belarusian government be?”
“We will have to work with them. Darby, there are means we have at our disposal I cannot give detail to. You have to trust we are doing everything we can. Options are limited. I’m sorry. We’re both sorry.”
“Yes, Darby, we are truly sorry,” Irina echoed. “Viktor’s escape worries us as well. We are afraid for our family, especially Natasha.”
The phone line went quiet. Valery wasn’t sure if Darby was still on the line.
“Are you still there, Darby?”
“Yes.”
“We will keep you posted,” Valery promised before hanging up.
Chapter 46
San Francisco, California
“Hello? Hello?” The phone line was dead and I wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t wind up the same way. The Buchko’s left me completely unsatisfied with those answers.
I could hear Tav bounding up the stairs right before he entered my room.
“Hey, man. It’s a beautiful day. We should do something. We can take Ralphie over to Dolores Park, over in the Mission. I’ll call some girls to meet us. It’ll be awesome.”
Here comes the rain and there goes Tav’s parade. His mood faded quickly when I told him what had happened.
“Buchko confirmed everything?” Tav asked, looking stunned.
“Yeah. I just got off the phone with him and his wife. They’re just as shocked as I am. They’re worried about him coming after Natasha.”
“That’s messed up. This guy told you to come over and testify knowing full well what men like Viktor do to witnesses, and now he’s escaped. So what that he gave you 50K for your troubles.” He paused. “He did give you the money, right?”
“Uh, well, sort of.”
“Don’t tell me he stiffed you on it.”
“No. I felt bad for Tatiana’s family, so I told Valery to give them the money instead. They need it more than I do.”
“That’s very admirable of you. Huge respect. A lot people would have taken it but now once again, you’re left holding the bag of poo.”
“One step forward, two steps back. That’s my life.”
We both fell into a daze until Ralphie’s barking shook us out of it.
“You’ve got to go to the police, Darby. You can’t let this sit.”
“But what can they do? Ima
gine me explaining this. I’ll sound like a nut.”
“What about those detectives you know, the ones from Chinatown? Maybe you can reach out to them.”
“Maybe.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“Well, I’m wondering if I would be better off calling Ivan Renko—keeping this within the underworld. The minute I go legit, I gotta juggle both sides. I’d rather not.” I knew Tav was looking out for me. I knew he thought I was nuts to take this problem to my Mafiya associates. But somehow I felt like I needed street justice. I had already tried the way of the law and look how that turned out.
“Are you saying you’re too legit to quit? Is that what I’m hearing?” Tav started to shuffle across my room like an MC Hammer wannabe.
I tried to keep it serious but seeing him with his long legs and short torso—it was too much. “Stop it. I’m serious,” I said, trying to look like I meant it. “I’ve got a situation here and I need your help.”
“I already told you what I think you should do.” Tav stopped his shuffling. He took a seat on my bed and scratched Ralphie’s stomach.
“Seriously now, what’s Ivan going to do: Extort this Viktor guy? I’m sure Ivan is a very important person but Viktor sounds like a beast.”
“Ivan’s pretty intimidating. He’s no slouch.”
“Well, you have three options: hope this Buchko guy deals with it, go to your detective friends, or pay the Russians a visit.
Tav was right, as usual. He always had a way of clarifying what my options were in a pragmatic way.
I fumbled through the pockets of my jeans and pulled out my wallet. I dug around until I found what I was looking for. I dialed the number. “Hi, it’s Darby Stansfield calling. I’m in trouble.”
Chapter 47
An hour and a half later, Detective Pete Sokolov parked the black Monte Carlo SS along Sacramento Street. The ’84 model sported original checkerboard rims, a rear spoiler, and a T-top. As a stock car, the V-8 block maxed out at 165 horsepower. With a new engine and a few modifications made by the Russian, it jumped to 350 horsepower. It could catch anything.
Sokolov crossed the street and headed up the steps. He had dropped Darby off here once before and remembered where he had lived.
He knocked on the door and waited patiently. No one answered. He knocked again. Still no one answered. Being the detective that he was, Sokolov pressed his ear against the door and listened quietly. He could hear his own breathing and running water in a pipe, but not much more.
Suddenly his cell phone rang. It was Darby.
“Detective Sokolov, are you coming over?”
“I’m here.”
“Huh?”
“I’m outside, I’ve been knocking.”
“Hang on, I’ll be right there. Sorry about that…”
Sokolov could hear Darby’s voice trail off on the phone.
“What’s the matter?”
“There’s no one here. I’m looking outside the front door and no one is here.”
“I’m standing right outside your door. Apartment four….”
“Damn, my bad. I forgot to tell you. I moved.”
“Well that explains the mix-up but why is your name still on the mailbox?”
“I still have the lease to the end of the month but I decided to move into the new place early. Man, for a minute there I thought someone else was messing with me.”
“Who?”
“I’ll explain when you get here.”
Sokolov was at Darby’s new place in less than ten minutes. Nice upgrade, he thought as he walked up the steps of the Victorian.
•••
As soon as Detective Sokolov entered The Vic, I immediately launched into a retelling of everything that had happened, beginning with my tour to Minsk, Belarus. Pleasantries are overrated sometimes.
“Look Detective, I know this is a lot to take in,” I said when I summed up the most recent news of the escape. “I’m sure it sounds crazy. But let me just show you something to lend a little credibility to the tale.”
I showed him both videos: Tatiana’s murder and then the short call from Viktor. “In the second video you can clearly see that he’s in another place, like a cabin or something.”
“Darby, I believe you. I have heard of this man. Let me contact some people I know and see if I can get what files the Ukrainian government has on him. If this Buchko says the government has closed its borders to him, it will be very difficult for this man to get on a plane.”
“That’s it. You’re going to look up some files?” My stomach sank.
“It’s all I can do right now. I’ll send alerts to Homeland Security and have him put on the Do Not Enter list.”
“It just seems like there isn’t much being done.”
“There isn’t. All we can do now is try to track him down.” He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed briefly. “You are a friend I will work seriously on this and see what I can find.”
“Thanks, Detective.”
“I’m sorry you experienced such terrible events. But he is way over there and you are here—much distance to cover.”
Chapter 48
Moscow, Russia
The temperature was just shy of 150 degrees Fahrenheit when the Elders entered the wooden banya from the predbannik where they stripped their clothes off and hung them neatly along the wall on wooden pegs.
Next they filed into the washing room where it was customary to wash the day’s grime and sweat from their bodies before entering the steam room. This room would also serve as the antechamber where they would spend their cooling off periods.
A table on the other sided of the room was filled with various fruit juices and bottles of vodka. There were various smoked meats, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, pickles, caviar, Russian cheese and a fresh loaf of brown bread.
One by one the Elders took the rubber hose that hung from the wall and washed their bodies.
Wrinkled and showing its age, the tattooed skin of the men still told the harrowing stories of their lives. All of them had done a minimum of five years in the merciless Gulags of Siberia. It was considered a rite of passage, and a place where men of their kind bettered their craft. These prisons were essentially training grounds. Survive and you were meant to be part of the family. The weaker ones were weeded out—but not before serving as targets for the others to practice.
As they entered the steam room, The Elders passed the heating system on their right that stood from floor to ceiling. Beyond this, at the far end of the room, were two levels of U-shape wooden benches.
Three of them took seats on the bottom bench while the Tea Maker picked up a chipped wooden ladle and doused the heated rocks with water, filling the room with steam. He then climbed up onto the higher bench where the heat was much more punishing.
The Elders sat quietly on the wooden benches inhaling the heated air into their lungs, their eyes closed, their bodies flaccid. Sweat began to bubble on their skin and form tiny rivers. After several minutes of stillness, the Oldest dug around inside a wooden bucket and pulled out a eucalyptus branch, which he used to swat his back and legs.
The door to the steam room creaked open and then closed. A shape moved through the steam, stopping near the benches, where a timid voice called out for the Tea Maker. There was a phone call. The others barely cracked an eyelid.
A few minutes later the Tea Maker returned to his high perch. He took a minute to settle in before speaking. “Our friend, Ghostface, has turned down our contract offer.”
“Did he say why?” the Oldest asked.
“He says there is nothing special about this job. His last contract was a high-profile banker.”
“He seems to be changing his tactic. He seeks attention with his kills.”
“Who is this guy?” the Youngest put in. “A nobody,” he says.
The Oldest inhaled the hot air deeply, holding it while he contemplated his answer. He released a long, slow breath. “Should we consider doubling t
he contract offer?”
“It’s not the money; he has plenty of it.”
“How dare he refuse us? We should kill him,” said the Unreasonable One.
“I must agree. He is a hitman. This is his job, no?” the Youngest said.
“Who can we send? Who is a match for Ghostface?” asked the Tea Maker.
The Oldest waved a hand. “Let it go. It’s done. We have much more important business to discuss now that Viktor is free. Do we know where he is?”
The Tea Maker stood up and stretched before saying, “Our eyes and ears tell us he has made it into Belarus. He is in Grodno, near the border of Poland and Lithuania.”
The Oldest watched the Tea Maker slowly make his way down to the floor. “Viktor has always been loyal to us. Unfortunately, Viktor has a hot temper. This is our biggest problem. We can’t afford unnecessary risk. We must get Viktor back on track and get the operation running.”
“I will reach out to Viktor once more and explain the delicate situation we have on our hands,” said the Tea Maker as he walked to the heater. “We have a friend in the area who will keep an eye on him as well.”
“If he finds out we are keeping tabs, it will only make matters worse,” the Youngest added.
“This is a close friend. Viktor will know nothing of it. If we agree I will make the calls.” the Tea Maker looked at his long-time friends for opposition and saw none. He then added more water to the rocks. Steam filled the room once again.
Chapter 49
Grodno, Belarus
“To me, Viktor Kazapov.”
Viktor threw his head back allowing the cool liquid to slam against the back of his throat and run down his gullet. He let out a forceful breath before taking a bite out of a pickle to chase the burn elsewhere.
The other three men enjoyed the vodka’s warmth in their chests. They returned their empty glasses to the wobbly wooden table before them and picked at the spread of dried meats, cheeses, and pickles. The cottage they were in was barely eighteen feet by twenty feet and was dimly lit by a few oil lamps, but it fulfilled their needs. One of the men grabbed the bottle and refilled the glasses. The series of toasts continue.
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