by Ty Patterson
And then it became personal for Grigor Andropov.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vasily took six months to do the developing, a timeline Nikolai grew impatient with.
‘I am doing it all alone,’ the hacker snarled. ‘Do you know how many people usually work on something like this?’
Nikolai waved him away angrily. He didn’t want to know. That wasn’t his world. He forced himself to stay calm and used the time to wind down his arms business. There were only a few clients that he met personally and explained that he would no longer sell weapons.
‘Change of heart?’ an African dictator guffawed.
‘Something like that,’ Nikolai said. ‘I am starting a new business. It will take all my time.’
The despot had a liking for blood sports. He was worth cultivating.
The Russian didn’t get anger or bitterness with his other clients. It was business; besides, others had already stepped into the vacuum he had left.
He headed back to Rublyovka and invited two billionaires for dinner. Over the finest Russian vodka, he broached the topic he had mentioned to them a while back. They raised their heads, interested.
Nikolai knew both of them well. Pirogov had made his money by grabbing state-owned steel companies as Russia emerged from the remains of the former U.S.S.R. Maslow had similarly acquired oil companies. Both men, as was true of all Russian billionaires, had risen to their wealth by bribing and colluding with politicians. Nikolai was no different.
He also knew his dining companions liked killing. Both had areas in their estates, remote spots, where their victims were buried. Human prey.
There were no cops to question them. They owned the police. Nikolai wasn’t one to judge them. He had benefited from the same system. He had his man in the Kremlin. And now, he was planning to make money off them.
‘How will this work?’ one of his potential customers asked when two bottles had been emptied.
Nikolai explained.
They were bemused for a while. The gaming world wasn’t theirs.
‘It is the only way,’ the ex-arms dealer insisted. ‘For safety.’
Now, that was a word they understood.
‘It isn’t hard. Here, let me show you.’ He grabbed a screen and showed them the preliminary version that Vasily had developed.
‘And these?’ Pirogov, the steel magnate, asked. ‘They correspond to …’ he didn’t complete his words. Even Nikolai was careful with what he said.
‘You can make a guess,’ the weapons supplier’s finger hovered over a female. Vasily had described the roles and had physical descriptions for each character.
Pirogov swore when he made the link. ‘She’s —’
‘Yes.’
‘I want her.’
‘No, I want her,’ Maslow slammed his palm drunkenly.
Nikolai sat back. The bidding had begun.
He would provide logistics, intel, weapons and if necessary, people to assist the two men, he told them. He would help them with alibis. They might need training, and he would arrange for that too.
They discussed details long into the night, and when the day broke, he delivered a thumb drive to each of them that contained a video recording of their evening. Now each had leverage on the other.
Mutually assured destruction, the best protection they could have.
Nikolai refined his plan as Vasily perfected his creation, and by the time the hacker launched it, the arms dealer was ready.
Pirogov started off. Nikolai saw a different side of him as he helped the billionaire train. The steel company owner became cold, focused; his ruthlessness became apparent. On seeing him prepare, the weapons supplier knew his venture would work.
Pirogov made the payment to Nikolai. Full advance, no refunds. And on a cold, Moscow night, he shot Russia’s upcoming pop star as she was performing.
He made the kill from two hundred yards at the SK Olimpisky, an indoor arena and former Olympics stadium.
He used a Dragunov SVD, Russia’s sniper rifle — he was a patriot — and shot from a prone position. The shot was easy; after all, he was a crack shooter. He had triggered from the highest stand in the stadium, seats empty because he had ensured none of them got sold.
The weapon had been smuggled in before the concert and hidden in a restroom. His getaway had been easy amid the ensuing melee. He had crawled back, gone into a service closet and changed into a police officer’s uniform, donned a wig and a mustache, and had hurried out, shouting orders.
Easy. But it had required intense planning from Nikolai, and both men had used their political clout to erase certain sections of the security camera footage.
And with that kill, the game began in earnest.
Chapter Thirty
It had been a long journey. There had been hiccups, but overall, his new venture was a success. Several politicians had joined the game in the years since that first kill. Nikolai had taken them on enthusiastically. Many politicians in Russia were billionaires in secret and having them on board gave him ironclad protection.
He played with a paperweight as he watched his hacker in his cabin. Vasily’s hair was thinning, but other than that, there was no sign of his aging. He made minor tweaks to the game every now and then and followed avidly every character’s development. Or exit.
Kloops was the only American client Nikolai had taken on, and now he was regretting it. The millionaire had come to him through a known reference, which was the only way he took on clients.
He had passed the personal interview, of which both men owned recordings. Mutually assured destruction.
He had zipped through the tests Nikolai set out for new clients. Shooting skills, willingness to kill, planning capability, and many others.
He had been insistent on an American target on American soil and had paid well beyond the bid. That had been the clincher.
Nikolai had an extensive network in America and provided the intel on the target. Kloops failed in his first attempt, and the NYPD stepped in.
Nikolai pulled the plug, but the American had been insistent. This time, the Russian arranged a grab team. However, it was American, and they failed at the nightclub. Nikolai arranged for their killing and decided on using Russian help only.
Chavez, not his real name, nearly succeeded. Nikolai had to move fast and arrange for the driver to be killed while in custody.
By then, he, too, was determined that Kloops have his kill. His ego took over, which he knew was a mistake. However, he was committed.
And then those sisters had entered the picture. Meghan, that was her name, wasn’t it? He checked. Yes, it was. Sooka! Bitch. He cursed loudly and glared at Vasily when he looked up.
She had taken down his men at Times Square. He had a backup team, however, who had killed the men.
Similarly, his men had been taken apart by those women in the parking lot. He had given Kloops an ultimatum: Take out your target yourself. The American had agreed, but wanted an additional shooter, which Nikolai had provided.
And that had been a disaster, too.
Nikolai’s fingers tightened on a thick folder on his desk. The dossier on the two sisters and this man, Zeb Carter. The intel on them was fascinating reading, and Nikolai now knew why all the attempts had failed.
These weren’t random PIs or close protection people. Konstantin had chosen well.
With Kloops’ death, Nikolai had begun his damage control. He knew he had overstepped by taking on the American and taking the game to the U.S.
Still, it wasn’t panic room time. After all, he was still here, in his mansion in Rublyovka, and he knew he could never be extradited to America. Too many people in Russia had too much to lose to allow that.
His phone rang—a direct number that very few knew.
‘Da?’ he growled and listened as his minion reported that Sidorov had been killed.
His faced darkened when he learned that there had been two men with the recruiter. They, too, had been killed.
>
His man’s voice trembled when he revealed who the men were.
‘Come back,’ he told his man. ‘There’s nothing you could have done.’
Grigor Andropov. He had heard of the name just once, when an FSB contact had let it slip, and then had found out more about the man and what he did.
Why was Andropov involved?
He reached for his phone and made several calls to politicians and high-ranking police officers. He made another call to Lubyanka Square, to the FSB’s headquarters.
‘Vasily?’
His hacker trotted over.
‘Grigor Andropov. He runs some secret agency. Hack into his system.’
‘Da. I have some news.’
‘What?’
‘The bidding on Angie Konstantin has increased.’
Nikolai was astounded. He followed Vasily to his screen and saw for himself.
‘But don’t they know she’s hot, now?’
‘Yes, but it looks like there’s still interest.’
The arms dealer thought rapidly. A small smile appeared on his face. ‘Change the terms. We will offer no support. Anyone winning the bid will take out the target by themselves.’
And then he saw two characters that Vasily had created. He read their details in the boxes next to them.
They looked almost alike. Both had brown hair and green eyes.
Both were female.
And bidding on them had begun.
Nikolai smiled wider.
The game had taken a twist.
Chapter Thirty-One
‘Why are there so many Russians involved?’ Hiram Konstantin asked the room in general, as he processed what he had heard.
They were assembled in the Columbus Avenue office. The twins, Zeb and Angie, Konstantin and his lawyer, Pizaka and Chang. And Bwana and Bear, who tried to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible, which was difficult since they were huge and gave out a stay away vibe.
Beth had told Konstantin and his daughter about the identities of the shooters and was getting into the meat of their findings, when her sister interrupted the narration by heading into the kitchen.
‘That’s what we are looking into, sir,’ Meghan said, as she returned bearing a tray and handed over cups of coffee.
Konstantin took a tentative sip. A look of surprise crossed his face, and he took a longer one.
It’s not just you who drinks good coffee, Meghan said, suppressing a smile.
‘Who’s Andropov?’ the billionaire asked.
‘A friend.’ Meghan didn’t elaborate. They had to tell him about the Russian’s involvement because he had identified the recruiter. Pizaka and Chang knew about his existence and suspected what Andropov did. Konstantin didn’t need to know anything more.
‘You trust him?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You asked about Russian involvement.’ Beth placed her cup down and wiped her lips. She went to the flip board that Meghan had drawn on.
‘This is where we have gotten to.’ She outlined Hidalgo’s confession, their investigation into Kloops, and smirked at the stunned silence when she revealed the Nikolai connection. She didn’t mention the games site. It was something they didn’t understand and needed to study more.
‘Two million …’ Konstantin struggled for words, his face white when he heard the sum Kloops had paid Nikolai. His daughter crossed her arms around herself and shivered.
The billionaire swung towards the cops. ‘I spoke to Rolando this morning,’ he said hoarsely, ‘and he didn’t mention any of this.’
‘First time we are hearing this,’ Pizaka said, staring balefully at the twins.
‘This won’t do much good to the cops, sir,’ Meghan replied.
‘Why not?’
‘The evidence, uh,’ Chang coughed. ‘It won’t stand up in a court. We would be shot down.’
‘That’s a huge sum.’ The lines around Konstantin’s mouth deepened. He reached out unconsciously and Angie went to him, hugging him. ‘Why?’
‘We’ll find out, sir,’ Meghan assured him.
Konstantin kissed his daughter’s hair and visibly composed himself. Angie left his side and stood next to Zeb, color returning to her face.
‘How did you find out the identities of these killers?’
‘We asked Interpol, sir.’
‘Why didn’t the NYPD do that?’
‘It isn’t standard procedure.’
‘This Nikolai … can I help in any way? I have Russian connections.’
If Andropov doesn’t know of him, I doubt your contacts will be of any use, Meghan thought.
‘No, sir. You should not be involved,’ she said, a reply that Konstantin’s lawyer approved of, as he nodded his head vigorously.
‘We have reached a dead-end with him,’ Beth admitted. ‘The NYPD …’ she looked questioningly at Chang, who grimaced, ‘have no record of him. I am not surprised, since they had nothing but a name and a vague description and what he did.’
‘I could ask my cyber security team to look into our business dealings.’
‘No need, sir. You haven’t had any contact with a Nikolai.’
‘How …? You’ve penetrated my system?’ his voice rose. ‘Without my permission? Stan!’
His lawyer squared his shoulders and put on his meanest face ready to wage legal war on behalf of his employer and earn his monthly retainer.
‘Mr. Konstantin.’ Meghan’s voice was a whiplash, her eyes cold. ‘Let me remind you of our conditions when we agreed. No questions. No how. No why. Shall I go on?’
‘You never said you would hack into my own systems.’
‘We never said we wouldn’t.’
‘Dad,’ Angie grabbed his arm, looked disdainfully at the lawyer and pulled her father to a corner. She whispered furiously at him, jabbing a finger at his chest.
A chastened Konstantin returned with a pleased daughter in tow.
‘I take all that back.’ He sat heavily in his chair and raised his hands in surrender. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m still struggling with what Kloops paid. My business … there’s a lot of sensitive information —’
‘It’ll stay confidential.’
‘This Nikolai. Surely there must be a way to find him? If we don’t, he will keep organizing these attacks.’
‘We think there’s a way,’ Meghan replied. ‘But it will cost. And it might be something the NYPD doesn’t approve of.’
‘Money’s no object.’ Konstantin crossed his legs and flicked invisible lint off his knife-edged trousers. His game face was back. ‘I can talk to Rolando if —’
‘We can do that too, sir, but we prefer not to go over Detectives Pizaka and Chang.’
The shades-wearing cop puffed his chest. ‘We won’t hinder any efforts within the law,’ he stated pompously, conveniently forgetting that the sisters had admitted to breaking the law just a few moments back.
Chang winked at Meghan, who smothered a smile. Pizaka was a good cop. He needed to feel important, and so long as his ego was stroked, he was supportive.
‘We’d like to run an ad.’
‘An ad?’ the lawyer spoke for the first time. He had to contribute something, otherwise his boss might wonder what he was being paid for.
‘A newspaper and TV ad. Surely you have heard of them?’ Meghan snickered.
‘How will that help?’
‘We will ask for information on all these attacks.’
‘We did that,’ Chang stroked his chin. ‘We didn’t get anywhere.’
‘We’ll do it differently. Front page of mainstream newspapers. Primetime TV viewing.’
‘And on top of that, we’ll offer a reward.’ Beth interjected before the lawyer spoke another word. ‘Which is why it’ll be expensive.’
‘We’re talking about a seven-figure reward, sir,’ Meghan told the billionaire. Kloops paid Nikolai two million. We should offer at least half of that, she thought to herself. ‘And then there’ll be the cost of
a call center. There will be cranks; we need to weed them out.’
‘Go ahead.’ Konstantin uncrossed his legs and fingered the polished leather of his briefcase.
Meghan blinked. She and Beth exchanged a surprised look. They had been prepared to convince him and had worked out a strategy.
He smiled when he saw their faces. ‘I know I come across as difficult.’
I’ll say. Meghan just about controlled her snort. We know where Angie got that gene from.
‘But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my daughter. Money … it’s nothing.’ It was a shield-down moment, a father speaking, not the corporate titan. ‘Set it up. Stan,’ he looked in his lawyer’s direction, ‘will help.’
He rose, the lawyer followed. Konstantin glanced at Zeb, who hadn’t said a word, and leaned against a wall next to Bwana and Bear.
‘You don’t speak much, do you?’
‘He doesn’t,’ Angie replied for Zeb.
‘Can I help? I, too, have contacts in the media,’ the daughter asked the sisters when her father had left.
‘Yes, but not in the way you think.’ Beth grabbed her phone and began the first of several calls. ‘Stay with Zeb. Stay low. This isn’t over yet.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
It took a week for all the moving parts to come together. Konstantin’s name helped with booking time slots. Newspapers and TV channels magically made space and time available for the run of ads.
The call center, a midtown one the sisters had worked with earlier, created additional capacity by hiring men and women to handle the expected traffic. The twins coached the recruits, running them through a list of verifications and questions to ask each caller.
A media agency that belonged to Konstantin whipped up the creative, and the final proofs were submitted to the various media outlets.
The ads were simple. They declared a tantalizing reward for anyone who came forward with credible information on the attempts on Angie Konstantin. They hinted at Russian involvement.
And the call center’s phones went berserk.
Just about every New Yorker with his or her dog called in. The cranks were easy to weed out, folding as the agents probed. However, no one had anticipated the sheer volume of traffic.
