by C. A. Wilke
Markus shook his head and leaned against the light pole. “You know we can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Do you have any idea what would happen to our reputations?” Markus shook his head again and stood up straight. “We’d never have a job again. Besides, you just made it personal.”
“I’m telling you, walk away and let me have Zinchenko.”
Devan screamed again. “No! Fuck this. Kill the bitch, she ruined my hand! Slit her goddamn thro—”
Scarlett swung her weapon over and fired. A small hole appeared at the center of Devan’s forehead. With wide eyes, he fell face first onto the concrete sidewalk. Scarlett trained the gun back on Markus.
“Next?”
Markus’s arms hung limp as he stared at his brother’s body. His shock turned into a quivering rage. He turned to look at Scarlett. His mouth curled up in a sneer, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed.
Scarlett’s finger squeezed the trigger, releasing another shot. The bullet bounced off Markus’s chest armor. He bolted toward her.
She fired two more shots at his chest. Scarlett raised her weapon for a headshot when his fist slammed into her stomach. Even through her armor, the impact lifted her from the ground and took the air from her lungs.
Markus’s massive hand seized her face and slammed her head into the window. Scarlett felt the glass crack against her skull. Dazed, she swung her pistol at his face. Markus caught her weapon with is free hand. His powerful grip crushed her fingers against the ceramic gun. He growled and wrenched the pistol from her. Scarlett flailed against Markus’s hand over her face. His long arms kept his body and face out of her reach. Markus shifted his grip to her throat and lifted her off the ground. A dark rage filled his eyes. His chest heaved as he rammed the barrel of the pistol he’d taken from her against her temple. “I’m gonna make you pay, bitch.” The enraged man’s proper English accent disappeared, replaced with a Cockney dialect. “I’m gonna fucking decorate the front of this pretty little shop with your fuckin’ brains, huh?”
Scarlett struggled against the man’s fist. She’d had hands wrapped around her throat before, but none as strong as this man’s. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the shot.
Over the ringing in her ears, something exploded nearby. Her eyes opened just as bits of wooden shrapnel tumbled off Markus’s shoulders.
He turned to look back.
The grip on her throat relaxed just enough for her to get a trickle of air. Scarlett blinked away the dizziness.
Markus stepped aside, revealing Jules, holding what was left of a chair from the coffee shop.
Markus looked the barista up and down and laughed. He raised his gun to Jules’s forehead.
Jules! NO.
Scarlett grabbed at the hand around her neck. She dug her thumb in between the bones at the top of his hand and wrenched his grip from her neck. Markus’s arm twisted and he screamed.
Freed, she fell to the ground. A double-fisted punch to Markus’s groin dropped him to the ground. Scarlett climbed to her feet and moved behind him in one swift, fluid motion. She wrapped her arms around Markus’s head.
“Fuck you—”
She wrenched hard to one side, breaking his neck with a sickening crack. When she let go, he fell face first onto the concrete, just like his brother.
Scarlett looked up. “You okay?”
Jules’s body shook. She stared down at the lifeless hitman without blinking.
Squealing tires from Zinchenko’s car answered her. Scarlett snatched the gun from Markus’s lifeless hand. She took a couple steps toward the fleeing car but stopped. “Jules? You okay?”
The barista continued to shake and stare at the dead thug. Her head twitched up and down just enough for Scarlett to recognize it as a nod. Scarlett took off at a dead sprint after the black sedan. The car was leaving her behind. She tapped the skin just below her ear. A moment later, Dax’s voice rang in her head.
“Scarlett, you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dax. I need you to get a fix on Zinchenko’s GPS for his car. I’m going to end this.”
Chapter 36
Promises
A promise is a promise.
* * *
The black car disappeared around the corner. Scarlett dashed down the next alley in hot pursuit.
“You’re going to what?” Dax’s voice echoed in her head through her comm implant.
“I’m going to kill him, right now.”
“What? Now?”
Scarlett focused on her breathing. “The son of a bitch just killed Janson, right? Not really looking to talk about it. Just keep me up on where he’s going.”
“Uh, okay, one second.” Dax’s fingers tapped. “He’s heading down Forty-Second.”
Ahead, a garbage truck blocked the alley. “Yes, I know that.”
“No, wait. He’s heading North on Adams.”
“Into the warehouse district?” Scarlett squeezed between a cement wall and the side of the truck.
“Yeah. That’s where his office is. I’ll ping the address to your commpad.”
“Don’t bother; I don’t have it right now. You’re going to talk me through where he’s going.”
* * *
She stood next to a three-story warehouse with grimy windows wrapping around the building just below the roof. Graffiti covered the surrounding structures except for the one she was about to enter, Zinchenko’s headquarters.
A twinge of trepidation crept into the back of her mind. She knew killing Zinchenko in cold blood was technically murder. If the authorities caught her, she could spend life in prison.
It didn’t matter, though. She knew criminals like Zinchenko often had cops on their payrolls and lawyers to keep them out of hot water. Thugs like him always get away. But not today.
She inched along the edge of the building until she came to a short set of stairs with a recessed door at the top. Metal handrails flanked each side of the green-painted steps. She looked around to make sure the coast was clear and climbed to the entryway.
Scarlett pulled on the handle but it refused to budge. “Shit.” She turned around to find another entrance when a pair of voices stopped her in her tracks. Two men approached from around the corner of the building. She ducked back into the doorway before they could see her.
“Shit. Shit.” Scarlett pulled her pistol from its holster. So much for the element of surprise.
She pulled her gun and checked the chamber for a live round. Something clicked behind her. Her eyes widened in terror.
“You could say thank you.” Dax’s voice rang in her head.
She spun around and pulled on the handle. The door opened. Scarlett slipped inside and closed the door. The air was musty and stale. She tapped her ear and whispered. “I forgot you were still on the line. That was you?”
“Gee, thanks. And, no, the door opened by itself. Of course it was me.”
Scarlett smiled. “Dax, I might just have to kiss you.”
“Really?”
“No.” She turned around to see a dark hallway stretching out a couple dozen feet before her. The hallway ended with a door on the left wall and a bend to the right. She heard three voices talking in the distance; the loudest of them belonged to Zinchenko.
She tried to listen but could not understand what they were saying. “Dammit, they’re talking in Russian.”
“Get a little closer. I’ll boost the audio and translate for you.”
She heard Dax’s fingers tapping the desk where his virtual keys were. “I... I can’t.”
The typing stopped. “Are you busted? I’ll call in the cops.”
“No!” Her response came out harsher than she wanted. “I mean, no, I’m not caught. I just, I can’t.”
She took a few steps further down the dark corridor. Her eyes darted back and forth between the floor and the door to her left.
“Is your leg broken?” Dax’s voice nearly broke her concentration.
“No.”
“No.” Scarlett smirked.
“Are you somehow otherwise disabled?”
“What? No.” She came to the corner stopped, her eyes still glancing back and forth. “Would you let it go?”
Dax sighed. “No. would you just put your ear up to the door?”
“Why?”
He gave another exasperated sigh. “Scarlett... I’m pretty smart, so hiding shit from me doesn’t really work so well. I pinged your commpad’s GPS, it’s still back in the coffee shop. That means you either have a second one or something else.”
Scarlett shook her head then caught herself and stopped. “Dax, I don’t have time for this.”
“Fine, you’ve got an implant. Direct bone-conduction audio with a receiver just below the skin. I’m assuming your left ear?”
She leaned back and rested her head against the wall. A smile spread across her face, despite her dangerous situation. “Congratulations. Now can we get back to dealing with Zinchenko?”
“Oh, yeah. Um...” More tapping. “Satellite data says there are five heat signatures in the room. Two by the door and three in the middle.”
“Satelli....” Scarlett’s eyes widened. “Eh, nevermind. Good, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Was actually pretty lucky that there was already one trained on the area.”
She knew it wasn’t luck. “I’ll call back when I’m done.”
“Hey wait!”
She tapped the skin behind her ear and his voice was gone.
Scarlett leaned against the wall next on the far side of the door. She breathed in deep and knocked.
The voices silenced. Zinchenko whispered a few words in Russian. The handle jiggled then started to turn. The door cracked. A gun appeared through the crack, followed by a man’s head.
Hidden behind the door, Scarlett leveled her own weapon at the man’s face. He turned to see her barrel and froze. His weapon went slack in his hand and hung by his trigger finger.
Scarlett took the man’s weapon. She waved her gun and the thug stepped the rest of the way into the hall. She turned him around and stepped up behind him. With one gun at her prisoner’s head and the other at his back, they moved through the doorway.
Zinchenko stood in the middle of the room behind a small couch. Three other men were spread out around the space. Everyone but Zinchenko had guns aimed at Scarlett and her prisoner. Two of the men, probably just mid-level lieutenants, stood to each side of the boss. The third man was just to Scarlett’s left near the door.
Zinchenko spoke first. “You are formidable. What makes you think I worry about his life?”
Scarlett turned the gun onto Zinchenko. “I didn’t say you were.”
“You are outnumbered. You will not walk out of here.” A smile spread across the mob boss’s face. His eyes darted to the side and he nodded.
Scarlet’s gun arm rose in time with Zinchenko’s enforcers’. She squeezed off a round and dropped one of the thugs before he had a chance to fire. The two other men fired, their bullets shoving Scarlett’s prisoner back into her. Her prisoner collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap as she stepped back through the doorway and to the side. Shots continued splintering the door and the surrounding cement wall. Scarlett pressed herself against the wall next to the doorway. The smell of gunpowder and concrete dust burned her nose. When the gunfire faded, she swung around and fired.
Scarlett targeted where she remembered Zinchenko to be, but her bullets found only empty air. At the far end, a door with a frosted window clicked shut.
She bolted to the other end of the room and skidded to a stop just before the windowed door. Scarlett twisted to the side as a hail of bullets exploded through the glass.
Crouched down, she shot four times through the lower half of the door. A moment later, she heard the thump of a body hitting the floor.
Scarlett glanced through the shattered window. With the exception of the dead mobster, the coast was clear.
She sprinted down the new hallway until she came to the warehouse floor. The expansive space was empty, making every bit of debris or dirt she stepped on echo. To her left and right sat doors leading outside.
A single gunshot from her left rang out. Scarlett ran to the door and yanked on the handle. A freight truck blocked her view of most of the street.
Checking each direction, she ran out into the sunlight. Just past the edge of the truck, she stopped. Before her, Zinchenko stood in the middle of the street with his hands raised over his head. The other mobster lay bleeding at his feet.
Scarlett followed Zinchenko’s gaze to two FBI agents yelling with their weapons raised. The two black-suited agents hadn’t seen Scarlett yet. One of them waved his gun, indicating for Zinchenko to turn around. As the mobster turned, his gaze locked onto Scarlett’s. He smiled.
Her mind flashed back to the army of law enforcement and lawyers under his thumb. She stepped back behind the truck and watched as Zinchenko mumbled something to the agent. A second later, they dressed him in a bulletproof vest.
He kept his eyes locked on her. If possible, she thought his smile was even more smug than before.
“Son of a bitch,” she whispered. “Not this close.”
Zinchenko could just as easily run his operation from a prison cell if he didn’t get right back out. Then he’d just go even deeper into hiding. Neither she nor Dax would be safe if that happened.
Scarlett glanced at the truck and smiled. She raised her weapon and leaned against the large vehicle. Between the twin posts of her sights, her target smiled and shook his head. He was at least a hundred yards away. Even for the best marksman, hitting a target at that range was extremely difficult. And Zinchenko knew it.
She would only get one shot before the FBI agents would fire on her. She closed her eyes for a moment and forced her muscles to relax. Scarlett focused on her breathing, felt the rise and fall of the gun in her hand.
Her eyes opened slowly. She adjusted her line of sight on the moving Zinchenko. Not today. With his head between her gun’s sight posts, she waited until all the air had left her lungs and squeezed the trigger.
She rolled back behind the truck and sprinted for the door. Scarlett smiled as she ran. She did not need to see her target fall to know she’d hit him. Scarlett felt the round hit, as if the bullet were an extension of herself. She didn’t just think, she knew the lead slug had torn through his exposed flesh and left him bleeding to death on the ground.
* * *
Agent Romski held his hand over Valery Zinchenko’s throat, trying desperately to stem the flood of blood. “Hang on Mr. Zinchenko, hang on. An ambulance will be here any second.”
The man’s eyes pleaded with the agent, as if there were something else he could do. But Romski barely knew CPR, much less how to save someone whose jugular had just been severed. It’s not as if he cared if the mobster died. With Zinchenko gone, Romski had no idea who would take over the organization. It doesn’t matter anyway, as long I still get my cut.
Sirens wailed in the distance and grew closer. Romski looked over his shoulder in their direction, but they were still too far away. When he looked back, Zinchenko’s eyes were cold and empty.
“Damn. Now what?”
Chapter 37
Sides
It’s not always easy to see who your friends and your enemies are. Through clouds of deceit and false promises, we have to figure out whom we can and can’t trust.
* * *
Scarlett turned the corner and skidded to a halt, sliding farther than she intended on the dusty floor. The warehouse she was running through was far more complex than she’d anticipated, and the FBI agent was getting closer every second.
She tapped her ear and opened a comm line to Dax. “Dax, what the hell. This place is crazy.” Her words came between ragged pants.
“Oh, so now you want my help.”
“I don’t have time for this shit. I’ve got an FBI agent on my ass. I need to get out o
f here now.”
Dax’s fingers clicked away at a keyboard. “Yes, I know. You are literally running around in circles. I was wondering how long it would take you to call back.”
Distant footfalls signaled her pursuer’s approach. “DAX!”
“Fine. Now that I have a lock on your earpiece’s signal... Go back the way you came to the main office, head out the door to the right. Then it’s a straight shot to a back exit.”
Scarlett glanced around the corner and saw only an empty hallway. “Thanks.”
“You better hurry; I’ve got three more FBI cars two minutes out from your location.”
She sprinted across to the small side office. Scarlett skidded to a stop by the door. The footsteps grew closer until he was almost on top of her.
Scarlett backed up to the wall as the door swung open, hiding her from view. She peeked through the crack behind the door to see a black-clothed figure obscure her view.
“Scarlett!” Dax’s voice almost made her jump. “What’s going on? You’ve stopped. Did he find you? Scarlett? Scarlett!”
She reached up and closed the communication line. The door wavered slightly, as if the FBI agent’s hand was still on the knob. Scarlett’s hand slid to her weapon. Just turn around. Nothing to see here.
The door closed. She counted to ten then let out a lungful of air. The agent’s footsteps faded into the distance. She leaned her head against the wall and considered herself, and the agent, lucky.
Scarlett waited a full minute before she cracked the door and checked the hallway. The door opened silently. She spied down one end of the corridor then the other. The coast was clear.
She made her way back to the main office. The room was large and broken into several cubicle spaces. Most of the desks had not been used in some time and were covered in a thick layer of dust. A few, though, showed signs of recent use.
A wide aisle split the room in two. At the far end of the room was a set of double doors leading to the main warehouse floor. To her left and right were several more.
She walked to the middle of the room and looked around. Scarlett did not like the idea of calling Dax back to find out which exit to take. It was bad enough he’d helped her this much. She just wanted him to do a little hacking, not be her personal sidekick.
