Darby Stansfield Thriller Series (Books 1-3 & Bonus Novella)

by Ty Hutchinson

  “Privet, Ivan.”

  “Privet.”

  “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “A man must eat.”

  “Right.”

  Two bowls filled with Russian salad, a steaming plate of grilled meat, and beef stroganov were placed in front of us. We dug in. I inhaled deeply, savoring the aromas. It never failed to get the faucet flowing in my mouth.

  There was only one way to eat when dining with Ivan: his way. He didn’t like to talk and eat at the same time. He found it difficult. He preferred to eat first then talk. This of course was fine by me. I, too, hated talking and eating at the same time. It’s like we were meant to be dining buddies.

  After feasting, I always got coffee and a slice of Napoleon cake. Ivan usually just stuck with his tea, but he surprised me today and got a slice as well. “This is the first time I’ve seen you partake in dessert.”

  “We all have to live once in a while,” he chuckled.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” I said.

  “We all have problems.”

  “Mine are unusual.”

  “We all think that.”

  “I need your opinion.”

  “Most do.”

  I took a folded piece of paper out of my pocket and placed it on the table.

  Ivan opened the paper just enough to see what was written on it. “Yes,” he said.

  “You know him.”

  “I know of him,” he said dropping the paper back on the table.

  “I think he wants to take me out.”

  “Where to?”

  “No. I think he wants to take me out. Like get rid of me.”

  “That’s a big accusation.”

  “That’s a big word.”

  “I’m a big man.”

  And he was. Ivan, like many Russians, was very athletic and lifted weights. Solid beefsteak—not an ounce of fat on his body. I don’t know what Tav was talking about when he dissed Ivan as not being able to handle Viktor.

  “I just said this guy may want me dead. Have you no concern?”

  “Darby, in my world, people come and go. It’s nothing new.”

  “Well in my world it’s a big deal. And if I go before I finish my consult, who knows what success the Odessa clan could have achieved?” I hoped mentioning the business might spark some care on his part, if not for me, for his organization. There was no doubt they were making more money because of me. If they wanted to continue to maximize profits, well, I need to be alive for them to do that. Plus I knew it was easy for Ivan to let others in San Francisco know I was off limits. I was hoping it would translate to people on the outside. This was a good way to find out how powerful his word really was.

  “Tell me everything,” he said. “Leave out no details.”

  I had hit the sweet spot: his wallet. I explained to Ivan discreetly and quietly the entire ordeal, except the parts about talking to Sokolov.

  “Darby, we are not entirely friendly with that gang you speak about but we are not entirely enemies with them either. It’s so-so. I will ask friends of ours to keep us informed on Viktor’s whereabouts. I will know if he comes to San Francisco. If he comes, we’ll deal with him. But I don’t think he will.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You are nobody. Not worth the effort it would take. If you live there, yes, you probably be dead but here…” Ivan brushed off the topic. He was done with it. “So what about new product?”

  Shit! That was an excuse to just meet. I wracked my brain for something new. Bingo. “It’s a new phone Teleco just came out with. It allows you to shoot video in 3D and upload it to the net in real time.”

  “Sounds interesting, but why do I need this?”

  “I have ideas on how this can help. As soon as the first shipment arrives, I’ll send some samples over and we can talk more then.”

  Chapter 54

  Same deli. Same seat. Grigory Orlov watched Ivan and Darby eat their lunch and have their private conversation.

  No other member of the gang was allowed to eat at the Russian Tsar while Ivan was conducting business. This was the controlling part of his personality, and something Orlov despised. He didn’t like being kept out of the gang’s business. Why should he? He was a brigadier in charge of his own crew. He held seniority.

  Orlov had taken it upon himself to keep tabs on Darby, even more so after he heard from Moscow. Orlov knew he shouldn’t be discussing gang business with the Moscow organization but he was angry with Ivan for keeping him out of the loop with the gang’s decisions. The trouble between them started before Darby even came on board as a consultant, but that certainly hadn’t helped.

  Ivan had diminished Orlov’s role in the gang purposely. At one point, he had a bigger crew and responsibility for the car theft ring. But then Orlov questioned Ivan on his decision making. Suddenly the car business was now shared with another brigadier, and Orlov was forced to find other ways of earning. To make matters worse, that brigadier listened to everything Darby had to say and practically doubled the income for his portion of the operation. That said, the demotion was still the bigger embarrassment. Orlov looked bad in front of the other leaders. Someone had to understand how he felt. Maybe Moscow would understand.

  This American, he tries to play it off like he’s hired help. A dentist doesn’t have lunch with Ivan after fixing a cavity. He fixes teeth. He’s done. You don’t fool me, Mr. Stansfield.

  He had already heard through his network of contacts about Darby’s troubles with Viktor Kazapov.

  Viktor had a reputation as being a cruel man who was untouchable by law, and not so much as a mention about him had ever been jotted down in a police file: he was that good.

  And now? Suddenly he’s been captured and found guilty of sex trafficking, kidnapping, and other crimes—and Darby was in the center of it all, testifying against him. That the government officials even thought they could keep Kazapov locked up was insane. You have to kill a man like that to keep him down.

  While Orlov wasn’t entirely clear on was how Darby got involved with Valery Buchko’s daughter Natasha, their involvement was clearly what led to Viktor’s capture.

  A small effort had been made to silence the American. Hired help was almost always used in cases like this, should it be deemed worthy of everyone’s time. When Orlov heard that Ghostface declined the contract and the powers that be didn’t feel like taking the issue any further, he was disappointed. What has happened to our honor, our code among thieves, he wondered. Rule Number Four: Help other thieves.

  Orlov decided he would be the one to see that hit move ahead. It was time he took a stand and kept the honor alive. Vory v zakone. He would certainly need outside help though, men who were not familiar to his clan. And for Darby Stansfield, preferably men who specialized in slow deaths.

  Chapter 55

  Odessa, Ukraine

  Three days after walking out of Elana’s Travels, Harold was in a van on his way to a hotel in Odessa. He was nervous but excited. He and seven other men made up Elana’s tour group. Harold didn’t spend much time talking to the others. He couldn’t believe how pathetic they were.

  Yes, that was irony.

  Elana sat in the front seat checking her e-mail. She turned to the men when she finished. “Okay guys, we arrive at hotel shortly. You check in and then we take small tour of town. Then we have dinner and then you have time to rest and shower before first social tonight. Any questions?”

  The van remained silent. Elana looked at each man. They were either staring out the window lost in thought or avoiding eye contact with her. This is going to be a long night, she thought.

  •••

  Later that night at the social, Harold stood rigid with fear. He had no idea how to approach these women or what to say. He had already gulped down two whiskey sours and was well into his third, hoping liquid courage would kick in soon. Three of the other men were already out on the floor dancing with a cluster of women. He didn’t want to be the last guy stand
ing alone.

  Four drinks later and Harold was suddenly the big man on campus. He was surrounded by a harem of cooing women. Suddenly, he had become the popular man of the night. He was bold. He was funny. Heck, he was, by all accounts, a stud next to the others. Harold had found his confidence. He had pizzazz.

  No one was more dumbfounded by this than Elana. She watched from the sidelines wondering what was it he said to the women that had them flocking to him like pigeons to breadcrumbs. Whatever it was, it worked—all night.

  Toward the end of the social, Harold had become fearless. He began collecting phone numbers, so many that he had run out of room on a receipt he found in his pocket and had to ask the bartender for something to write on.

  •••

  When Harold woke the next morning, not only did he have a headache of epic proportions but he was also full of fear. Was it all a cruel dream? He jumped out of bed and reached out for the one thing that would tell the truth, the jacket he wore last night. This is where he remembered pocketing the newspaper the bartender had given him.

  Harold opened the jacket and saw the newspaper. This was the moment of truth. If memory served him right, the front page should be covered with names and phone numbers. He took the paper out and slowly unfolded it.

  He stared quietly at the front page of the Chornomorski Novyny, the local paper. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them both. Again, he focused on the paper, only this time with absolute clarity. There was no mistake.

  Staring right back at him was a picture of Darby Stansfield.

  Chapter 56

  It was another quiet day at Teleco. Bored at my desk, I decided to visit Tav. When I got to the bottom-feeder floor, I saw that about a quarter of the bottom-feeders were out making sales calls. It was very unusual. Maybe I gave them hope. Inspired them. Work hard and you, too, can become a heavy-hitter like me.

  Of course they should know that calling on mom-and-pops isn’t the way to get up to the twelfth floor. Oh well. Why take away their hope? Let them believe it.

  Tav wasn’t at his desk, so I headed back up to my office. I didn’t have anything on the calendar, so I was now wondering how to fill my day. The answer came in the form of a slender blond.

  “Knock, knock,” Hillary said, peeking into my office.

  “Hey there. What’s going on?”

  “You busy?”

  “Nah. Have a seat.”

  Hillary sat down and crossed her legs. She had on pair of khaki pants and a white blouse with embroidered accents. She had one hand twirling her hair.

  “So what’s going?” I asked. “You guys busy downstairs?”

  “Not even. It’s such a bore. I get the impression it’s the same up here.”

  “Yeah. A lot of the guys are out on trips.”

  Hillary crossed her other leg and shifted in the chair. God, she looked hot sitting there.

  “Wanna grab lunch?”

  “Sure,” she agreed.

  “I’ll swing by your desk in ten minutes.”

  “Okay.” Hillary got up and left with a little more bounce in her step. I hadn’t called her or spoken to her since our first date. I’m sure she was wondering what was going on. I mean, her hand did put out and not hear back. This certainly isn’t the way to go about improving my personal life. I had good reason to let her wonder for a bit: I didn’t want to come across as clingy. But maybe my distance was a bit too much. Either way, I was glad she came up and reminded me what a catch she was.

  Fifteen minutes later we were out from under the sleepy grasp of Teleco and I was busy trying to please her with various restaurant options.

  “No,” she said.

  “Okay, how about Chinese?”

  “Eh.”

  “Pho? You like Vietnamese?”

  “Not feeling it.”

  I stifled a sigh. “Sushi?”

  “I had it last night.”

  “Mexican?”

  “I’m not in a bean mood.”

  “What about that Cuban restaurant on Kearny?”

  “I don’t like Cuban.”

  What? Does this girl only eat fine dining? This was slowly turning into a chore. I wracked my brain, mentally searching for a place near the office. Then it hit me. “Tadich Grill. We’ll go there. It’s the oldest restaurant in San Francisco.”

  Hillary didn’t respond, so I guess it piqued her interest.

  When we got there, it was crowded, but there was room at the original mahogany bar that ran the length of the restaurant. We found two open spots and sat. I went ahead with the alpha male role and ordered for Hillary.

  “We’ll each start off with the sliced tomato with Dungeness crab and then the cioppino for both of us. Oh, and a large bottle of Pellegrino.”

  Hillary started to protest but I cut her off. “You look very pretty today.”

  “Oh… Thank you.” She looked down, then up again. “Um…Why haven’t you talked to me since we went out?”

  I knew sooner or later I would have to answer this question, and there was no way I was going to drink the truth serum for this one.

  “First off, I’d like to apologize for lack of follow-up. It was very rude of me. I hope you can forgive me.”

  “Well, I guess we all get busy.”

  You got her, Darb. Keep spinning the spin. Get another topic going that benefits the situation. “Tell you what. I’d like to make it up to you. How about we hang out this weekend? We can goof off around the city, maybe see a movie, hit the beach, picnic in the park…What do you say? We’ll make a weekend out of it––if I can steal you away for so long.”

  Hillary smiled and giggled at the same time. I had her. Her left hand was twirling her hair like crazy—a good sign. “Well I did have a bunch of errands I had to run….”

  I had her. “We’ll take care of them together. Add it to the list of things I, Darby Stansfield, will do with Hillary Kate.”

  “Okay. Sounds like fun.”

  “Great. I’ll start planning.”

  •••

  Hillary was beaming; she never expected this from Darby. She continued to stare at him when he wasn’t looking. His boyish looks and slightly curly hair had grown on her. He was being such a man and a sweetheart at the same time. Hillary was definitely loving every single part of it. The arrogant Darby she had met three years ago on the bottom-feeder floor was now a take-charge kind of guy. He was confident and knew what he wanted. This was exactly what Hillary liked—no wishy-washy guys. And suggesting that the entire weekend be all about her, well she just about melted right there.

  Hillary was a sucker for the alpha male with a side of jerk. Yet, Darby made up for his jerk side. She even liked how loyal he was to his friend Tav. She truly liked him, for him. Oh my god, what’s happening? Do I actually like him? This is crazy, she thought. Sure he was kind of cute and all, but she never did take him seriously, until today. Darby had come at Hillary from her blind side and hit her with his best shot. It worked. Even though Darby had a lot more to learn and had plenty of room to grow, it didn’t bother her. I can fix him.

  These thoughts were all coming too fast. Hillary took a sip of her water and tried to clear her head. But there was no denying it. She was really starting to like Darby. He was even looking a lot like bedroom material right now.

  Hillary didn’t know what to make of it all. These feelings were so unexpected. It felt nice though. She hadn’t had someone make her feel this way in a long time.

  •••

  “Darby. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why do you like me so much?” Hillary paused for a moment. “I mean, a lot of guys think I’m pretty and want to go out on dates but you want to run errands with me.”

  “I think you’re fun to be with. I like talking to you. Yes, you’re beautiful but I’ve come to really like Hillary inside here.” Darby pointed at her chest.

  Hillary blushed and looked away and then back. “Really?”

  “While I appre
ciate it, I don’t need tight dresses and a sexy smile to see how beautiful you are. I like the woman behind all that.”

  Hillary could barely contain herself from shedding a tear. Darby viewed her as a person and not some trophy to show off or a fun time in bed. She wanted an old fashioned relationship. She wanted the family. She wanted the in-laws. And for a split second, she thought maybe Darby could be the one to give this to her.

  There was only one problem: Harold. What would she do about him?

  Chapter 57

  Troyka Café was always empty. It was closed during the day and open for only a few hours at night. Most of the dishes on the menu were sold out. There was always borscht, though it wasn’t listed on the menu. There was always some sort of trance music playing over the speakers—usually in the vein of “The Best of Ibiza.”

  A few people would stumble in at night since a bar sign did hang outside. No bartender could be seen immediately. There were two drinks available: Smirnoff vodka and Baltica 3 beer—nothing else. Usually these people left shortly after arriving.

  The only ones who came here and stayed were members of the Odessa Mafiya. They sat in the back corners, slightly out of sight from the accidental visitor, and spoke only in Russian. The locals knew to stay away from their headquarters, where men like Orlov conducted their business. Today he was sitting opposite Ivan Renko. “Ivan, what’s in these boxes that arrived?”

  “From where?”

  “Teleco. Where the salesman is from.” Orlov’s cigarette somehow gripped his bottom lip while he talked.

  “It’s a new phone. It can make video in 3D. Darby says it well help business.”

  Orlov took a moment to calm down. Clearly it wasn’t enough because when he spoke again, his voice was elevated from its usual low gargle. “How much longer will this man be involved with our operations?”