A siren howled in the darkness. Across the river, a pair of white and blue police cars wove through traffic, screaming past the quaint riverside buildings. Caine turned left and ducked down an alleyway. He knew the police were not looking for him, but he felt uncomfortable in the open streets of St. Petersburg. Rudov and the Russian Mafia’s reach went deep into the local government. He knew it would be wise to leave the city before the old gangster’s body was discovered.
As his boots crunched across the snow, he removed the satphone from his coat pocket. He dialed a number from memory. It was the second time that day he had called her…
A singsong voice answered the phone in Thai. “Chi?”
“It’s me,” Caine grunted. Put her on.”
“She busy. You tell me what you want, I let her know!”
“Tell her to pause her damn Korean dramas and pick up the phone.”
The voice muttered an unintelligible curse. “Kd kĥāng wị̂, hold on.”
Caine continued walking down the alley, glancing left and right to make sure he was alone.
He heard a sharp intake of breath, a gasping wheeze on the other end of the line. “Now what?” the old woman demanded. “You seem to have a knack for interrupting my favorite shows.”
Anna. The Chao Mae. A godmother in the Chao Pho crime families. His partner Lau worked for her, and as much as he hated to admit it, Caine owed her some allegiance as well.
“Sorry,” Caine replied. “You okay? You don’t sound good.”
“I’m not the one wandering around Russia in the winter.”
Caine left the alley, and crossed through an empty parking lot. Above him, the stars twinkled in the cold, clear sky. The wind began to pick up, sending an icy chill across the river.
“Your information about Rudov paid off. Thank you.”
He could hear her sipping tea on the other end of the line. “Sergei was a sick old bastard. It takes a certain kind of person to hold on to power as long as he did. I’m sure he got what was coming to him. But then again, I’m not one to judge.”
Caine said nothing. He and Anna maintained an uneasy alliance, but he suspected the old crone was just as capable of monstrous deeds as Rudov, or any other gangster.
“You mentioned you could arrange transportation for me?” he said, breaking the silence.
A rasping laugh crackled over the phone. “Well, well. So eager now to make use of my shipping contacts. Lau tells me you cost us quite a bit of money the other day. You embarrassed him in front of Ramil. Made him lose face.”
“When you asked me to work with Lau, you knew my terms. No drugs. No guns. No people.”
The woman sighed. “Yes, yes, I remember. Very well. There’s a cargo vessel leaving Neva Bay this evening. Lau will get you details. Be on it. You’ll be back in Pattaya in a few days.”
Caine took a breath. He glanced up at the stars.
“There’s something else,” he said. “A woman, Irena Duskin. She’s being treated in a hospital in Seversk for liver disease.”
“Xu,” the old woman cursed. “I just missed the opening of my next show.”
“Ramil has legitimate pharmaceutical connections, doesn’t he?”
“Perhaps,” the woman muttered. A sly tone crept into her raspy voice. “But I’m not interested in charity cases. Who is this woman? What’s so special about her?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
He heard her inhale a cigarette. She coughed and wheezed on the other end of the line. “And what is it you want?”
“I need a drug called Cupramine, as much as Ramil can get. I’ll text you the hospital details. Have him send it to her. All of it.”
The woman clucked her tongue. “I take a cut of your profits, so getting you home, helping you with Rudov… That’s just good business. But I see no profit for me in this."
"Anna—"
She cut him off with a loud sigh. "Oh, very well. But in return, you will owe me another favor.”
Caine gritted his teeth. “Fine. Same rules apply.”
“Still think you’re on the side of the angels, eh?” the woman cackled.
“I told you before, I don’t believe in angels.”
“Long is the way, and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.”
“What are you talking about?” Caine snapped.
“The quote is from a book. Paradise Lost, I believe. Perhaps a little above your head?”
Caine was silent.
“You think a few good deeds can wipe away a past like yours?” the woman rasped. “I’ve looked into your eyes, Mr. Waters. And I know the eyes of a killer when I see them. As a gambling woman, I’ll wager you won't be hearing the heavenly choirs anytime soon.”
“Neva Bay,” Caine muttered. “I’ll be there.”
He hung up the phone. The wind picked up. Flakes of white snow began to fall. The ivory powder swirled through the air, blocking out the stars above.
Caine lowered his head, and jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. He quickened his pace across the empty lot. It was getting colder.
He still had a long way to go.
He disappeared into the darkness. Behind him, his footprints remained in the snow. The lonely trail followed him into the still silence of night.
THANK YOU!
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WHAT TO READ NEXT
Thank you for reading Cold Kill. If you enjoyed this novella, here are some other books featuring betrayed assassin Thomas Caine…
CAINE: RAPID FIRE NOVELLAS
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A Thomas Caine Novella
COLD KILL
A Thomas Caine Novella
THOMAS CAINE NOVELS
TOKYO BLACK
A Thomas Caine Thriller
RED PHOENIX
A Thomas Caine Thriller
FIRE AND FORGET
A Thomas Caine Thriller
THOMAS CAINE
will
RETURN!
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About the Author
Andrew Warren was born in New Jersey, and studied film, English, and psychology at the University of Miami. He has over a decade of experience in the television and motion picture industry, where he has worked as a post production supervisor, story producer, and writer. He currently lives in Southern California.
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