Looking at the watch that was supposed to be my life preserver, I didn’t see any confirmation that it was working. Five minutes had passed since I’d activated it…and nothing. There was no cavalry, no tanks, no aerial support, nothing. Nobody even called to see if I was okay.
Bang! Another bullet clipped off the glass.
“Those animals!” I cried, a wave of rage washing over me suddenly. They’d probably killed Alexey, and they were chasing us down like rabbits. And there’s nothing I can do. In a fit of anger, I slammed a fist down on the seat, hit my pocket, and felt an object inside.
“The Nagant!” I exclaimed. Seriously? I just put it there. It was a dummy, but that was better than nothing.
Bang! Bang!
“They’re aiming for the tires,” Oleg said, giving the gas pedal a kick. “That’s not good.”
I snarled and rolled down the window.
“It won’t work,” Oleg said imperturbably. “Don’t try to crawl out.”
“I couldn’t get out, anyway,” I laughed, feeling my adrenal glands pump adrenaline into my blood. “There’s nobody to grab me tenderly by the legs!”
Regardless, I wouldn’t have gotten out past my waist. But I could stick my head and arm out to shoot a few times at the black jeep following us, not even really bothering to aim.
I didn’t even have time to yell something like eat a grenade, fascist! like I’d planned, when I saw one of the headlights in the vehicle following us go out. The jeep itself dipped off to the side and slammed into a lamppost.
“What?!” My eyes popped, and I pulled back into the car.
“Well done,” Oleg said approvingly. “If you can take out another one, we’ll definitely get away. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Nowhere,” I replied in shock. “That was the first time I’ve ever fired a Nagant. And shooting a headlight out with blanks? I haven’t even read about that happening.”
I pulled open the cylinder and knocked the bullets out onto my palm. One had a primer that had already gone off and smelled bitter, probably like burned powder, while the second was nice and golden, with a bullet poking out of the casing.
“Vika,” I said, showing the girl the bullet, “where did you get this pistol?”
“I told you—it was a gift,” she hiccupped. “One of our anarchists came over, in a papakha and with a mustache, and said I could keep it. I reminded him of his sister, he said. And so, I took it.”
“You’re kidding me,” I replied, rubbing my forehead.
I could only hope that I’d just shot out a headlight. What if I hit someone? Why did they spin off the road like that? I didn’t even know how I’d actually scored a hit. A long time ago, I’d shot a pistol at a military base near Kansk, in Krasnoyarsk Krai, though even then, completely sober, I hadn’t been able to hit the target. Not even the edges. And there… Damn it, that’s the last thing I need!
Just then, two things happened simultaneously. My phone rang, and Oleg yelled back at us.
“Now, it’s really bad—they’re getting around to pin us against the railing!”
We’d driven out of the alleys and onto one of Moscow’s embankment roads, one without many people even in the summer. Right then, there was absolutely nobody out, and that was our fatal mistake. The two jeeps bumped us toward the railing, their plan clear as day.
“Oleg, go, go!” I called the driver as I pressed the green button on my phone. “What?”
“Harriton, your tracker activated,” a kind of imposing voice replied. “That was an accident, I imagine? You’re already at home, right?”
Through the somewhat fogged glass, I saw the powerful black silhouette of the jeep towering above us.
“What accident?” I roared. “Alexey’s probably dead, we’re pinned on the embankment, and it looks like they’re trying to send us into the ice. I’ve never minded an invigorating dip now and then, but not like this!”
“Understood.” The voice on the phone changed instantly, the relaxed tones disappearing. “What embankment are you on?”
“Derbenevskaya!” I yelled. “Paveletsky station is behind us, though I don’t know the house number.”
“We don’t need the number—we already have the tracker. How many cars are there?”
“Two.” I was starting to feel a little better. Somebody knew about us, at least. “There were three.”
“Whatever happens, don’t take off the watch. We have a fix on you.”
And with that, he hung up. That was a surprise—What happened to the “Hang in there, buddy?”
The side of our car scraped up against the railing.
“This is it,” Oleg said, darker than a thundercloud. “Another couple minutes, and we’re done.”
“I don’t want to die like this,” Vika piped up. Her voice was actually calm. “Drowning in the stinking city river water…”
“What water?” Oleg spun the wheel, trying to push us back against the shadowy jeep. “They’re just going to pin us in against the railing, and then… Well, I don’t know what they’ll do then. Maybe, they’ll gun us down, maybe, they’ll grab you. But I’m definitely a goner.”
“Why do you say that?” I pulled the Nagant’s cylinder open again, knocking the rest of the bullets out and slipping the three spent casings into my pocket. Then, I loaded the rest back in and hoped I wouldn’t have to use them. I wasn’t sure I could shoot at a living human, even if they were shooting at me first. It’s only in the movies that someone with no experience whatsoever could up and shoot that professional killer. But in real life? Of course, not. No, we needed our driver to get us out, though they were shoving him against the railing like a rooster shoves a hen.
“What do they need a witness for?” Oleg shrugged his powerful shoulders. “They need you, and they can use your girl for leverage, but me… Ballast and an extra pair of eyes. Anyway, we don’t have a choice. Hang on—I’m going to try to break left, and if I tell you to get out of the car, make a run for it.”
“Run where?” Vika asked, eyes bugging.
“As far as you can, into the courtyards,” Oleg said seriously. “I didn’t get you to Chertanovo, but it isn’t that far. Wait out in the entrance to one of the buildings, catch a car, or, better yet, wait for the metro to open. Alexey would have explained it better, but he isn’t here.”
I realized that our driver hadn’t counted himself in with us. “Hey, don’t be stupid, Oleg!”
The wheel ground as he turned it hard and metal scraped against metal.
The jeep that had practically boxed us in jerked away and our nimble little car just about got through the opening. Just about, but not quite.
A powerful blow propelled the car all the way across the road, sending us flying into the base of the heating main. Snow flew everywhere as we were thrown around inside the vehicle.
“Out of the car,” Oleg said, opening the door on his side. “Run!”
He piled out into the snow and fired a couple rounds at the figures jumping out of the jeeps.
“Run!” he yelled again. “You have three minutes, maybe five.”
A few bullets clattered off the car door, and Oleg responded with three shots.
I heard gunfire for the next two minutes as we ran to one of the nearby courtyards. Once we’d gotten inside, the wind and buildings were too much for the sound to get through to us. Either that, or there’s nobody to shoot.
“Where are we going?” Vika asked, breathing heavily.
“As far as we can.” I pulled her across the courtyard. “Our job is to break away from whoever’s following us.”
***
We were lucky—it was a neighborhood resplendent with the architecture of the 1960s. Moscow, of course, wasn’t built in a day, and it was split into areas that differed from each other. The spot we found ourselves in must have been built at the end of the ’60s. It was too late for the first wave of khrushchyovkas[11] that were nearly extinct in Moscow and too early for the taller brezhnyevk
as[12]. They were just long, multi-story, identical buildings made of dirty brick. And that was perfect for us because they hadn’t been built evenly, unlike the brezhnyevkas. They were built, lots at a time, in little clusters, and, most importantly, they had courtyards that intersected with each other. You could get lost in them.
“Maybe, we should duck into one of the entrances?” Vika wheezed. Her heels, her nerves, and the alcohol were making it hard for her to run. Poor kid.
“No,” I replied. “This isn’t St. Petersburg. The buildings here don’t have connecting doorways, and the basements are all locked. It would just be walking into a trap.”
“But how would they know which one we were in?” she asked, tripping over the root of a huge lilac bush. I’d decided against running along the well-lit road in favor of dodging back and forth in the bushes. The new occupants had planted that lilac back in the ’60s—beauty for them, problems for us. The snow was coming down harder, too, and there was no way they could miss our tracks.
“I’m not going to go through the situation with you,” I replied, nipping further questions in the bud.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I didn’t recognize the number.
“Harriton, are we really going to play hide-and-seek?” the person on the other end of the line, obviously one of the people chasing us, said lazily. “We’ll find you, even if it isn’t today, that I can assure you. We’ve already had casualties, too—your bodyguard, and then that other brave, if stupid, kid. We damaged our jeeps, thanks to you, and one of them is really in bad shape. Somebody’s a good shot if they can get a bullet under the hood like that… Anyway, why don’t we just stop this whole thing? I know you’re somewhere in this maze of courtyards, and your chances of getting away are awfully slim.”
“Kif,” Vika said in a strange whisper. Her finger was pointing in the direction we’d just come from, and I saw several dark figures outlined against the snow. They were definitely looking for us.
“I’m still going to try,” I said into my phone. “Actually, you disappoint me. We just damaged your jeep? We didn’t hit anyone inside?”
“Well, aren’t we bloodthirsty?” The person on the other end of the line laughed. “The ones your bodyguard shot at your building weren’t enough?”
“Nope.” I felt better—I hadn’t killed anyone. Phew. “I’d put you all underground and do the time happily!”
I hung up, pulled the SIM card out, and hurled the device against the wall of the building we were standing next to. Good, now they can’t track it. Although, I might have been a bit hasty—I no longer had a way to get in touch with the Raidion security. I should have thought that through. And I should take care of Vika’s phone, too…
“What was that for?” Vika stared at me. “Why would you break a good phone like that? We just got it for you!”
“Catch your breath?” I asked, ignoring her question.
“I guess,” she sniffed. “But I’m wet, my mascara is running, I’m frozen, and I have to pee.”
“Well, look at you! I just want one thing: I want to get somewhere where it’s safe, and that’s it. It’ll be warm and dry there, there’ll be a toilet and a cup of coffee, and we’ll even have the boss’s hospitality to enjoy. Most importantly, though, we’ll have a chance to survive this.”
And off we ran again. We dashed through courtyard after courtyard, with me thanking my lucky stars for all the time I’d spent in places like that when I was younger. Moscow courtyards at night are like the forest—you think you’re headed in one direction, but you’re actually going in circles.
“Where are we going?” Vika asked wearily twenty minutes later. She was exhausted.
“Not where; from who,” I replied. “Did you forget about the bad guys chasing us?”
“We lost them a long time ago,” Vika said with complete confidence. “You don’t even know where we are, I’ll bet.”
“Somewhere in Paveletsky,” I replied. “Although, okay, that’s just an idea. If you want, we could pull out your GPS.”
“What’s the point in running any farther?” Vika asked, shivering. I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, the alcohol, or fear. On the other hand, I could tell from her voice that she wasn’t being hysterical. She really did just want to know what we were doing.”
“The point is that sitting in one place risks getting us spotted. As long as we keep moving, we have a shot at getting away. Plus, we’re getting farther away from where we started. Those bastards might get tired of following us and leave us alone. It keeps us warm, too. It isn’t that cold out, but it would feel much worse if we stopped.”
“Oh, God, I just want to go home.” She grabbed my hand, and we set off once more along the snow-covered road. “Even to Kasimov. It’s warm, mom’s there…”
“If anything happens, run.” I had noticed three large figures coming to meet us, and I stuck my hand into my pocket and found the Nagant. I guess we’re going to find out if I really can pull the trigger.
“I’m not running anywhere,” Vika replied firmly. “Where would I go? You think I want to get lost in these courtyards and just wait for morning? No, I’m too tired. They probably aren’t going to kill us, and even if they are, screw it.”
I clutched the butt of the Nagant, experiencing the same rush of emotion all peaceful people feel in times like those. Stick a poorly made knife in their hand and tell them it’s a weapon, and they’ll be sure they can stand up for themselves. They have no idea how to handle themselves in a fight? Not a problem—they’re holding a weapon.
I figured they would kill us before I had time to pull the trigger. They might have been able to do it without shooting, even, seeing as how they, unlike me, knew the art of fighting.
“Easy, Harriton, Azov sent us,” one of them said, holding his hands out in front of him. My face must have looked awfully fierce. “We’re here to get you.”
“Just him?” Vika joked unexpectedly, her face frozen in a weary expression. “What about me?”
“What are you talking about?” Two of them quickly stepped to either side of us, forcing us to match their pace, while another covered us from the rear.
“Prove you are who you say you are,” I replied, holding Vika and leaving my hand in my pocket. “I want confirmation from someone I know.”
The one on our right nodded, pulled out his phone, dialed a number, mumbled something into the microphone, and handed it to me.
“Here.”
“Kif, is that you?” Azov’s voice melted a little of the ice that had formed inside me.
I practically burst into tears. “Ilya!”
“These are my guys, so go with them. Don’t worry, everything’s okay now. We’re waiting for you here.”
“We found them,” the one on the right said, this time into a headset, as he took his phone back. “Everyone, head to the cars.”
***
I wasn’t sure what kind of response he got since I didn’t hear any of the whispered fragments I was used to hearing in the movies, but we found ourselves walking out into a quiet alley five or six minutes later. In front of us, were six large cars and even one minibus with people bustling around them.
“Harriton,” a vaguely familiar gentleman wearing a leather coat said as he walked over. He looked like one of the people Azov had had with him when I got my kidneys jostled. “How are you?”
“Crappy,” I replied honestly. “Really crappy. Actually, I’m fine—it’s my wife who’s wet, tired, and scared. Your bodyguards are back there, too. Alexey’s body is near our building, and Oleg’s is on the embankment. It isn’t far, so we should—”
“Let’s get you warm, Vika,” he said, letting me know that he heard my last few phrases, didn’t want me concerned with that particular matter and wasn’t going to be answering any questions. “Go ahead and get into the minibus. I think they have a blanket in there.”
“Take this.” Vika handed me her bag, which she’d somehow carried along with her the whole way, an
d disappeared behind the corner of a building with a clatter of heels. How did she run on those?
“Six, Twelve,” the leather jacket started to order, though I stopped him.
“No, no, she’ll be right back. Leave her alone.”
He nodded, though the pair still covered the corner of the building Vika had gone behind, waiting for her to come back.
“Look at me,” the girl said, coming back and taking her purse from me. “I would never have dreamed of doing something like that, not even in my wild years.”
“It happens,” the leather coat replied tactfully. “Life is the kind of thing where you just have to roll with the punches. Okay, head over to the bus. You can warm up and calm down in there.”
Vika climbed into the warm space and sighed blissfully.
“God, that’s so nice. A hot cup of tea and I’d be perfectly happy. You know, dear, people take so much for granted. We don’t appreciate things like warmth and boiling water anymore.”
I was starting to shake as the alcohol wore off. That’s what always happens to me: as soon as the nerves subside, I get the shivers and start feeling ravenously hungry.
“How about some cognac?” the leather jacket asked, climbing in with us.
“Sounds good to me!” Vika’s hand shot up, though she glanced quickly at me. “Just as a preventative measure.”
“I’ll pass,” I said wearily.
I didn’t want any cognac. I didn’t want anything, in fact, except for Mammoth to have never found me in the office and had me handle the series of articles about the game. I wished he’d given the assignment to someone else. So much would have been avoided—Alexey would have still been alive, and Oleg would’ve been, too. They’d died because of me, and the realization of that fact was turning me upside down. I’d risked my own head…before, but in those case, the responsibility and consequences had been all mine. The two were good, strong men. Even the fact that their profession came with the good possibility of an end like that one did nothing for me.
And it terrified me to even think about what would have happened to Vika if they’d caught us. They would have tortured me to try to get something out of me, and a hundred to one, they would have used her to up the ante. I didn’t know why I was so sure, but I was. That risk wasn’t going away, either. I wasn’t sure who’d sent our pursuers after me, but the fact that they were there meant that everything I held dear was threatened. Vika, my parents, and… Well, that was it. Thankfully, I didn’t have anyone else. That was enough, though, to have me cursing myself until the end of my days if anything happened to them.
The Crown and the Key Page 29
