“To freedom.”
“To health.”
“To success.”
“To Russia.”
“To his death.”
“Die, American, die,” Viktor added.
On and on they went, celebrating their release from prison by drinking and eating. They had no worries. The dacha served as the perfect safe house. A thick Birch forest near the outskirts of the city surrounded it. The nearest neighbor was an old babushka about 200 yards away. It was safe for the time being.
Grodno was a fairly big city in the northern corner of Belarus—the perfect place to lay low for a while. Viktor knew the area well and had friends he could trust; they had arranged for the dacha. The city itself was strategically located near the border of Poland to the west and Lithuania to the north. If need be, they could easily cross over into either country undetected.
After the massive attack on their convoy, the gang immediately hit the road. Grodno was a straight shot north, only eleven hours by car. By the time local authorities had figured out what had gone on at the scene, the gang was halfway to their destination and singing the praises of the Elders back in Moscow for their help.
When the last of the vodka and food was gone, the men slowly retired their singing voices and found a portion of the cabin where they could bed down for the night. Only one other, Pasha, remained up with Viktor.
“What are we to do now? Minsk?”
“We stay here.” Viktor had no intention of heading anywhere just yet. “Too dangerous to move around now. SBU will be looking for us in Minsk. We are safe here.”
“What about the Elders? They orchestrated our escape so we can get the operation running again.”
“Let them wait. They will not go broke. I’m tired of them always with their hands out.”
“But Viktor, this is how it is.”
“Then maybe it is time for a change.” With that Viktor rolled over and was soon snorting and grunting like the rest. He was content to stay at the dacha. No bothers or worries. Plus there was a banya.
Early the next morning, Viktor rose with the birds, but worms weren’t on his mind. He fixed a small pot of coffee and then poured the thick brown liquid into a cup, waiting for the grounds to settle before taking a sip. He dug around in a bag, pulled out a black laptop, and smiled. Viktor had taken it from Tatiana’s room before leaving to make sure he had all of the evidence of his act. Of course he hadn’t realized until the trial that Darby could record the feed. He was grateful that he had stashed it away with a mistress in Minsk before he was captured. The laptop contained everything he needed to track down Darby Stansfield and torment him.
Viktor couldn’t stop obsessing about the American. How dare he testify? Never before had the gangster been arrested. Never, until the American showed up. Such bravado, such arrogance, as if this were his country. Darby had become Enemy Number 1 in Viktor’s head.
All he could think of was the American. It made him crazy. Darby was in his thoughts when he was drunk, was there when he slept, was there even when he took a shit. No matter how much he tried to shut Darby out of his mind, that stupid smiling grin popped into Viktor’s head. It made him want to strangle the man. A personal kill.
The American needed to learn respect. Who was he to testify against the great Viktor Kazapov? He should know what it’s like to experience true fear. A lesson in humility was due.
•••
About a week later, Pasha was awakened in the early morning by nature’s call and headed outside with a flashlight. It wasn’t until he came back in from the cold, shivering, that he noticed that Viktor was gone.
Chapter 50
San Francisco, California
It was another late night in the den for Pete Sokolov. Most of that time was spent going over the details of the cases in which Darby had been involved in Ukraine. The bold escape from the prison convoy outside of Lviv was embarrassing for the Ukrainian government. They would need to save face. Sokolov could already see from the reports that the Belarusian government was contributing resources to the manhunt.
After perusing the material for hours, he could find no good reason that Viktor would come after Darby now that he was back on American soil; the risk would be far too big. With the SBU hunting him, Viktor would probably be forced underground—unless he was stupid. Sokolov never ruled out stupid.
None of that made him any less interesting to the detective. “How is it that I have not heard more about this guy?” Sokolov muttered as he shuffled through the information on the gangster. He sent a text message to his personal contact in Interpol to see if there was any classified information about the man known as Viktor Kazapov.
It was just after midnight when Sokolov turned his attention to Ghostface. He pored over the latest picture and reports from the recent kill in Paris again, searching for an angle—anything that might have been overlooked. Such a brave kill in the open. Is he losing his touch or is he getting better and thinks he’s untouchable?
In the past, Ghostface’s kills were intimate. He always made sure the targets got to see who their executioner was right before they died—the last thing they ever saw. These two most recent hits were a departure. Distance in the Paris hit enhanced the glory of the kill, it sensationalized the act. Brave, spectacular kills seem to be the objective. He’s trying to make a statement.
Maybe Ghostface was getting bored with only being a hitman and wanted more from his job as an assassin. Recognition seemed to be the answer. His kills could showcase how good he was. He wanted everyone to know he was the best.
But it didn’t stop there. Ghostface wanted to entertain—hence the reason for the very public kills. He wanted to put on a show for the people, like a page out of the Roman Empire. Ghostface intended to give the people what they truly wanted: blood.
He had moved beyond communicating only with law enforcement. He was talking to the bigger audience, the general public. It was his version of street art.
This told Sokolov that Ghostface did not view law enforcement as a threat. To this date, Ghostface had avoided any sort of run-in with the law. But ask anyone in the Eastern European law enforcement and they’ll say he is highly trained in the art of combat, especially hand-to-hand—an expert killer. Depending on how you look at it, a sloppy kill might really be an attempt at extravagance. Stupid kills, Sokolov thought. That’s how they all get caught.
A text came through on his phone: “Got it. I’ll see what I can dig up.” A few seconds later his phone lit up again: “Ghostface—I might have a description.”
Sokolov nearly jumped out of his seat. A description. It couldn’t be, but he hoped so. He had never actually met the man on the other end of the phone. They were introduced via e-mail, through an old contact, and even then it took a series of various e-mails before information passed between the two. Now all contact was made via text messages, with the contact getting a new cell number every other week. It was completely untraceable; Sokolov had tried. So far, the information was thorough, making the contact extremely valuable. He assumed it was some person at Interpol who just wanted to help, but was not authorized to hand off so much classified information.
“When? Where?” Sokolov texted back.
A few seconds passed by before his phone beeped. “Waiting on my source. Soon.”
Chapter 51
After the weekend, I still felt uneasy about Viktor’s sudden reappearance. It’s not something I had anticipated. As far as I was concerned, that part of the story had come to an end, but it was if my life was destined to be one big plot twist.
My lack of protection didn’t help to make the situation any better. Basically, I was told not to worry because Viktor can’t be concerned about me. And if he were, he couldn’t travel to the States anyway. From where I was sitting, this was the equivalent of waving off the whole situation like someone farted.
I managed to drag my butt into the office thinking it might be a good way to keep my mind off of the Viktor thing. I was
halfway through my first cup of coffee, when I received a call from Sokolov.
“Darby, I spent time getting up to speed on Viktor. He’s a dangerous man.”
The verdict’s already in on that, Detective.
“But I don’t think he will come for you. Most criminals, they want to get the money flowing again. That will be his priority.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“That makes two of us.”
Not what I wanted to hear, but I knew what he meant.
“I have a contact in Europe looking into the investigation. If Viktor makes a move, we will know.”
“Thanks for your help, Detective.”
“Call me anytime.”
I felt marginally better after our conversation, if I tried really hard. You can’t blame me though. This Viktor guy was hardcore, dangerous, and probably never heard of the word “remorse”. I’m going to have to look out for myself. No doubt about that.
I peeked out into the hallway, expecting another slow day at the office. It was abnormally quiet. Seemed like a lot of the heavy-hitters at my end of the hall were out. I was alone in my office. I actually missed sharing space with Tav. We had made really good cubicle mates. It was so easy to turn around and lay it all out for Tav’s take. He always took the high road. I needed that from him. Sometimes I wished I were more like him.
I opened up my personal laptop and looked at the pictures I took on my trip, almost all of them were from the time I had spent with Tatiana. She was an incredibly beautiful woman. I still couldn’t believe she was gone. Man, this is so not what I should be doing right now. It was only making me more depressed about my life. I felt lonely. And paranoid. I needed to get my mind off of this.
There was a knock at my door.
“Hey, fucktard.”
It was the village idiot, Harold. I wondered what the stump wanted. “I’m busy.”
“Yeah, doesn’t look like it,” he said.
“Well, if you stop squinting like a sphincter and open your eyes, you might be able to tell.”
“Just saw last month’s sales figures. You barely made your numbers.”
“But I did and that’s all that matters.”
“Look, you may have everyone else around here buying your stories about your clients, but not me. There’s something going on and I’m going to figure it out.”
I snorted. “Just so you know, the solution involves using addition and subtraction.”
“Joke all you want but one slip in sales is all it will take for you to find yourself back down in bottom-feeder land. My domain.”
Harold was right. The Odessa gang was cautious with their orders and with a lot of my recommendations. Even though the product was all but free to them during my consultation period, they would only implement my suggestions one at a time. I wasn’t about to place an order for product that would sit around unused. The good news was they had strong weekly sales that could easily be attributed to Teleco product. So I expect they’ll be more open to trying new things, which meant more product and thus, more orders. I needed to push them harder.
I pointed toward the door. “Look, small balls, do yourself a favor. Take your hippo physique and waddle back out of my office.” I should have ended it there but as usual, I didn’t. “Oh, did you hear about the other news…?”
“What?”
“How I’m dating Hillary. Yeah, that’s right. We’re an item. While I’m getting busy with her, you can go ahead and get to third base with yourself.”
“Very funny. Ha ha. You think you have a shot with Hillary? Delusional at best.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see how this plays out.”
“You think you’re God Almighty, don’t you?”
“Ask around. We had dinner the other night. Now get. I got work to do. Shoo, fly, shoo!”
Harold split in a huff. I knew his next move would be to find out the legitimacy of my date with Hillary.
Screwing with Harold always made me fell better. Even though he was doing everything he could to undermine my heavy-hitter status and I was obviously winning on the Hillary angle, my concerns about Viktor remained front and center in my thoughts. It was time to take a more proactive role in my safety. I called Ivan Renko.
Chapter 52
Harold muttered to himself as he made his way back to his office on the sixth floor. He knew Darby had smartened up about the way he worked at the office. He no longer used the company computer to do his work, so Harold had no way to monitor his Internet habits or to hack into his files. It was getting harder and harder to mess with his job—even more so now that he was up on the twelfth floor. Harold figured if he couldn’t screw him on the job front, he’d screw with his personal life. That’s why he had plans to spend lunch in the Inner Richmond, and Elana’s Travels was on the menu.
It was nearly noon when Harold arrived at the travel agency. He took a quick look around and couldn’t understand what Darby was doing in this neighborhood to begin with. Everything was in Russian. It didn’t make sense.
Inside the travel agency, Harold was greeted with thick cigarette smoke and a raspy voice. “Hello, hello. You are interested in trip? Please come and sit.”
“Uh, yeah. Hi. I need some information.”
“Yes, tell Elana about your dream vacation and I make it happen.”
Harold took out the flier and placed it on Elana’s desk. “Tell me more about that.”
“Ahh, you like Russian women, huh? Very beautiful.”
Harold nodded like a schoolboy. “What happens on these trips? Do I pick one and do what I want?”
“Pick one? This is not sexy tour like in Bangkok,” Elana shot back. “This is social engagement. I am not sex tour operator.”
“No, no, of course not.” Harold realized he needed to neutralize the situation. “A friend of mine told me he had a nice time on the trip: Darby Stansfield. Does the name ring a bell?”
“Oh, yes, Darby. Nice man. Very popular with girls over there. They all like him.” She paused and took a long drag. “You are friends?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Elana wasn’t buying it. From what she knew of Darby, she just couldn’t picture him hanging out with this man. He fit the mold of her typical client: pathetic, overweight, older. Probably a chronic masturbator; virgin most likely. Darby was a breath of fresh air for these women. “What’s your name?”
“Harold.”
“Okay, Harold, you want to take tour? I have one leaving in a few days, to Odessa, Ukraine. Lots of lovely women. All looking for strong, handsome man like you.”
“Is this one similar to the one Darby took?”
“They all the same, just different girls.”
“You think these women will like me?”
“Sure. You look like you train in the gym. You dress nice, probably make good money.”
Harold got a little giddy at that. “I have Soloflex. I think it’s working. Also, I’m a manager at Teleco, the big wireless communication company.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it. Very good company.” Elana rubbed her thumb and finger together and winked, letting Harold know she knew his financial situation was secure. “Trip is only $2,500. Airfare separate. You pay now?”
“$2,500? It’s a little high.”
“This is vacation. You cannot afford?”
Harold couldn’t believe Darby spent so much money. How can he afford shit like this?
“Was Darby’s trip this much?”
“More or less.”
Damn, that’s expensive, Harold thought. But the more he learned about the tours, the more he really wanted to go. His goal was to get info on Darby. But he was so horny and the thought of these young women wanting him was extremely appealing.
“Trips are booking fast. You must make decision.” Elana gave Harold a few more fliers touting the women. “Look at them. How can you pass?”
“I haven’t passed, I just…”
“What? You make good money, no?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Which lady you like?”
“I like Yulia,” Harold said as he pointed at a blond.
“Done. I personally make sure Yulia is at social. I need decision now.” Elana exhaled a plume of smoke toward Harold, signaling that her patience had long ago run out.
Harold looked at all the fliers filled with half-naked hotties and got a hard on. “Okay.”
Five minutes later, Harold left Elana’s Travels booked on a trip to Ukraine.
Elana stabbed her cigarette butt into the ashtray and picked up the Minsk newspaper from her desk. She knew the brunette featured on the front page. Elana could always count on her to attend the socials even though she wasn’t that interested in a foreign man. Elana had long hoped she would meet a nice man, get married, and have a better life. And she did meet someone. She had met Darby Stansfield. And now Tatiana was dead.
Chapter 53
Calling Ivan for help wasn’t exactly new territory for me. I’ve asked my clients for help in the past. It’s not something I think I want to make a habit of, but at times street justice is the only option available.
“Darby, what so important you can’t tell me on the phone? You sell me cell phones, no?”
“Yes, but I have some new product I want to talk to you about. It’ll be better in person. Trust me.” This was always the little game I had to play with Ivan. He was paranoid about talking on the phone and he rarely did. Being that I was a legit guy in a legit business, he did so—but only if it didn’t stray away from Teleco business. “How about lunch at the Russian Tsar? My treat. I can fill you in on the latest and greatest that Teleco has to offer.”
I arrived at the restaurant at 12:30 p.m. sharp. It was already overrun with its usual lunch crowd, though I never had to worry about getting a table. They always had a table for Ivan; in fact no one else sat there. As soon as I opened the door of the restaurant, a blast of Russian conversation flooded my ears. As usual, Ivan was already there, drinking hot tea and nibbling on a plate of pickles.
Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella) Page 41
