The War Business: A Sam Raven Thriller

by Brian Drake

  Raven tripped on a crack in the pavement and crashed, the pistol flying from his hand. Winded, he didn’t stop moving. He rolled left, scrambled to his feet, and cursed. Another figure appeared ahead and raised a gun. Raven blinked as the new arrival fired twice. None of the shots hit him. But they did hit the gunman. The shooter smacked the pavement face first.

  “Come on, Raven!”

  Tracy!

  He ran to her.

  “What kept you?”

  “Is that a thank you I heard?”

  “Thanks, but let’s get out of here.”

  They ran.

  Back at Raven’s hotel room, they found each bug and crushed them into the carpet. Tracy dropped into a chair while Raven paced. He told her of his discovery and then the story of Watchers One and Two. She told him about her taxi ride.

  “You need to be more careful,” she said. “You keep charging like a bull into places and almost getting killed. If I hadn’t shown up, you’d be dead.”

  “Nuts, I’ve had all the fun. Did you get a date with the cab driver?”

  “Shut up.”

  “At least we know the weapons are here. If they plan to blow up the bridge, they have plenty of access from the port.”

  “If they don’t clear out.”

  “They won’t. They’ll try for us again. All cards are on the table now. Nobody’s fooling anybody any longer.”

  “Will you settle down already?”

  He sighed and sat across from her. There was a small table between them. “I could use a drink.”

  “Little late for that.”

  “Or early. Back home it’s daytime.”

  She laughed. “And not even five o’clock yet.”

  “We both need some sleep. Keep your weapon handy.”

  “Where was yours tonight?”

  “Here in the room, and if the Russians had caught me carrying, I’d be in the same cell with the other two clowns.”

  Tracy left the chair and started for the door. “Try not to get killed again, Raven.”

  “Hey.”

  She turned.

  “Will you call me Sam already?”

  “Make me.”

  She went out. Raven laughed and locked the door. He turned in and fell to sleep without delay. Action was the best jet lag cure ever.

  40

  Raven and Tracy sat in the hotel coffee shop over breakfast. Both looked exhausted. When Nadiya and Petro joined them, they hoped their state wasn’t too obvious. Nadiya fought hard to hide a grin. Raven knew she knew.

  “Late night?” Nadiya said.

  Tracy looked to Raven. Raven gave her the same excuse he’d used overnight. “Jet lag.”

  “Oh, yes, horrible thing.”

  “Did you two get breakfast?”

  She said they did but could use more coffee. Raven waved over their waitress who took the order and departed.

  “Are you sure it’s only jet lag making you tired?” Nadiya said. Her partner Petro sat without speaking, and Raven didn’t like how he examined their faces. They were the ones playing games now, but Raven saw how he and Tracy could throw it right back at them.

  “Well, we were a little busy last night, right, honey?”

  Tracy blanched.

  “We can tell them, don’t you think?”

  “You ass.”

  “Well—”

  Tracy cut him off. “It’s supposed to be a secret, dammit.”

  “Why keep secrets from our new friends?” Raven smiled. To Nadiya, “Right? We should all four be honest with each other.”

  “We won’t tell,” Nadiya said. “Even Petro has a lover in the service, don’t you?”

  “Nobody cares,” Petro finally said. The waitress brought their coffee.

  “What’s the plan for today?” Raven said to change the subject.

  “We know where Osborne is hiding,” Nadiya told them. “Why don’t we go take a look?”

  “Where are we going?” Raven remained cool but he saw Tracy tense. Worse, Petro saw her too.

  “Warehouse at Port Kavkaz,” Nadiya said. “Our informants tell us a freighter docked there a little over 24 hours ago. Customs may have been bribed to look the other way.”

  Raven laughed. Tracy’s eyes widened.

  “This we have to see,” Raven said. “Finish your coffee and we’ll go. Which one of you is driving?”

  Petro said he’d drive.

  This time, Raven had the Hi-Power on him.

  The warehouse looked different in the daylight. Raven hadn’t noticed its battleship gray paint in the middle of the night.

  They parked across the street, watching people arrive and leave, but there was no sign of Aaron or Draco.

  What they did see was frustrating. The game continued. Nadiya and Petro must have been laughing themselves silly on the inside.

  Somebody opened the gate in the fence. Raven and Tracy watched two pairs of trucks, with covered beds, leave the property. Raven took a deep breath to settle his rising anger. They were moving the weapons and explosives, distributing to cells in the field. And they were doing it under the noses of him and Tracy. There was nothing they could do. The little overnight soft probe had been for naught. All they’d done was make the enemy move up their transport time. Nadiya and Petro were there to throw it in their faces.

  “I don’t suppose your informant mentioned they were moving stuff today?” Raven asked. He and Tracy sat in the back seat.

  “No,” Petro said from behind the wheel.

  “Any idea where the stuff is going? Could be important.”

  “We will check,” Nadiya said. She told Petro to hit the road.

  They got stuck in a traffic jam on the way back to the hotel. Russian military vehicles lined the side of the road. They were checking cars, hauling out passengers, and throwing them against the military trucks. Each person was frisked. Others were questioned off to the side. Other soldiers waved cars through. They weren’t stopping all.

  “City-wide sweep,” Nadiya reported. “The Russian navy has sent more ships into the strait as well, to protect the bridge. No boats will get near the span.”

  Which is why they needed to clean out the warehouse, Raven thought. If they couldn’t use a boat to send out a crew to plant bombs on the Crimean Bridge, what other means might they have?

  Or was he wrong and the bridge wasn’t the target, but instead a decoy?

  “When can we see Chumachenko?” Tracy asked once they’d passed through the delay.

  “Tonight,” Nadiya said. “We know where he’ll be having dinner. His wife and associates will be there too.”

  “Can’t wait,” Raven said.

  Draco drove while Aaron Osborne sat in the passenger seat. The truck traveled north heading out of the city. The back of the truck held automatic weapons for a Ukrainian civilian militia. Some of Draco’s old comrades in arms made up the group leadership. The goal was to have the militia resupplied before they blew up the Crimean Bridge. And re-sparked the conflict.

  Aaron sat with his window open and made no attempt to talk to Draco. The Ukrainian merc had not said much since breakfast, when Chumachenko called. The big boss did not ask to speak with Aaron but only to Draco. The big boss was furious about the security breach at the warehouse. Aaron knew it had happened because they were stringing along Raven and Tracy. Aaron didn’t understand why they were waiting to get rid of them. The Russian occupiers made the situation difficult, sure. They had to make decisions carefully, and plan action to the last detail. Confrontation with the Russians was a no-no. Until it didn’t matter any longer. But Aaron feared they were waiting too long.

  Aaron was aware of another possibility. He might not return from this trip, and he sweated thinking of a way out. With Draco’s militia pals, he’d be one against…too many to have a chance. Aaron only knew what Draco had told him. If Chumachenko gave him other instructions, they weren’t spoken.

  Draco picked up the highway out of Kerch. The city faded behind them. Rolli
ng hills full of green took its place.

  Aaron told himself to calm down. If they wanted to be rid of him, they’d have done it already. Whacking one of their own wasn’t as tough as Raven and Tracy.

  Aaron began to sweat a little more. No amount of thinking reassured him.

  Draco stopped. They were on a dirt road with wilderness all around. Soldiers with rifles wearing gray camo stepped into the path. Draco threw the truck into park. “Get out,” he said.

  Aaron’s heart skipped. The edge in Draco’s voice made him wonder if he’d be left here. Draco might hand him over to the militia and tell them to get rid of him...

  Stop it.

  Draco hopped out. Aaron saw in the side mirror the others as they left their trucks. He exited too. The cold air dried the sweat on his face and neck. He wondered how the back of his shirt looked.

  41

  Draco approached the group. He shook hands with the leader and they spoke warmly in rapid Ukrainian. Aaron and the other four from the convoy stood off the road. Draco and the leader continued their conversation. The militiamen cast nervous glances at Aaron and the others. Aaron kept his hands free and in the open. He wanted to avoid the reaction of a jumpy soldier with his finger on the trigger of a rifle.

  Aaron decided the militia crew wasn’t in terrible shape. Their uniforms were clean, not shabby as he’d have expected. They were not professional soldiers, but they took their role seriously. No missing buttons or untucked cuffs. Most importantly, their rifles were clean and not showing signs of neglect or abuse.

  Draco and the team leader concluded their chat. Draco returned to the trucks as the militia started up the road at a quick pace.

  “We’ll follow them,” Draco said, “and transfer the weapons to their vehicles.”

  Back in the trucks. Slow drive along the rough road.

  Aaron had noticed a lot of young faces in the group. Most had been older. The young ones were eager to defend their land from invasion. Well, he’d help give them the opportunity to achieve glory.

  Assuming he lived long enough.

  The convoy reached a clearing in the forest. Two large half-tracks waited. The convoy crew sat as the militia transferred weapons, ammunition, and explosives. They didn’t have all the C-4, of course. Most of the plastic explosive had been taken elsewhere.

  It was on the drive back to Kerch when Draco finally spoke.

  “You’re on thin ice.”

  “I figured,” Aaron said.

  “Chumachenko has a plan to take care of our problems. It starts tonight.”

  “Good.”

  “Everything will be settled tonight.”

  Aaron wasn’t sure how to respond. But he decided he should prepare for any outcome.

  He still had Raven’s gun.

  Draco’s remark about “tonight” was relative. It was ten o’clock in the morning in Sparks. A few minutes after ten, the assassin hired by Chumachenko murdered Mark and Brenda Osborne.

  Osborne the Elder handed his wife the breakfast dishes and finished clearing the table. She loaded the dishwasher.

  “I’ll be late,” he said. “I have a video conference tonight and they will go long, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t you have another meeting with your lawyer, too?”

  “Tomorrow at three.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  The doorbell rang. Worry flashed over Brenda’s face.

  Osborne shook his head. “I sure hope the FBI isn’t here.” Brenda offered a weak smile. Osborne left the kitchen.

  The days since the “robbery” had been tough. Osborne figured he was always one misstep away from getting arrested.

  Morale at the company was low, too. The Feds were questioning everybody, looking for anyone guilty, and Osborne had to keep quiet and watch. He tried to reassure his people via memo and pep talks. But he saw too much doubt in their eyes. His people were worried about their jobs and paychecks and families, and he couldn’t blame them.

  Chumachenko had warned this might happen, they’d worked out a response, and they’d be all right if they stuck to the plan.

  Osborne took a deep breath to steady himself as he approached the door. Stand tall. Be proud. Look ’em in the eye and lie. They were looking for Aaron, he knew, and might have found him. He’d deal with the consequences if it turned out to be true, and get his son the best legal help. Or he’d help Aaron vanish.

  He opened the door expecting two federal agents.

  Only one man stood on the porch, a swarthy fellow in a long black coat inappropriate for the warmth of the morning.

  “Who are—”

  The man jerked a suppressed pistol from his right coat pocket and shot Osborne once. The bullet caved in Osborne’s face and pushed it out of the back of his head. His body hit the floor with a loud thud.

  The assassin stepped over the body and avoided the mess as he advanced into the house.

  “Mark?”

  The woman stepped into the hallway and screamed. The assassin raised his gun. He fired once and her scream ended.

  The assassin departed without closing the front door. He drove away and took the highway further into the mountains where he stopped long enough to dig a hole. He buried his shoes and coat. There were spares in the car. He continued driving and didn’t return to Sparks.

  Tracy laughed. “Gin!” She slapped the cards on the table.

  Raven shook his head. “That’s three times you’ve beaten me. I’m impressed.” He gathered the cards to shuffle.

  “I used to play—”

  She stopped.

  “Hmmm?”

  “Never mind.”

  “Please, tell me.” Raven ruffled the cards on the tables.

  “I used to play with my father all the time.”

  “Beat him a lot?”

  “Not when I was a kid, but when I got older, I gave him a run for his money. We moved around a lot—he was in the army. He taught me gin to help make the moves a little easier, you know?”

  “I do indeed. Spent plenty of time on army bases growing up, remember?”

  “Yes, you mentioned it.”

  “We haven’t exactly spent much time getting to know one another, Tracy.”

  “It’s hard for me.”

  “I understand. Where is your father now? Retired?”

  “Missing.”

  Raven raised an eyebrow.

  She dropped her eyes to the table. “He was in Afghanistan with his unit. There was a fight, and they never found him after. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s why I’ve stayed with intelligence work,” she said. “I’m trying to find out what happened.”

  “Thank you for telling me. When this is over—”

  “What?” She looked up. “You’ll wave a magic wand?”

  “Tracy—”

  “What can you do that I haven’t done in the last ten years?”

  “Two heads are better than one. A new perspective might help. If there’s a clue you missed, I can catch the detail.”

  “Deal the cards, Raven. We have another half hour before dinner.”

  “At least think it over. I’m sure I can help.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Sounds like you’ve given up.”

  “No,” she said, “but there hasn’t been much to encourage me to keep going lately.”

  Raven shuffled and let the conversation fade. If she wanted help she’d ask. He couldn’t force her to accept his offer.

  She said, “Do you have a plan for tonight?”

  “Oh, yes.” Raven began dealing. “I’m going to shake their cages and get the fireworks going.”

  “I like fireworks.”

  “We’re running out of time. If they moved the ordnance, you know it’s been delivered to whoever is carrying out the attack.”

  “Not Aaron and Draco?”

  “I expect they will be far from whatever happens.”

  They looked at their cards b
ut didn’t make any moves. Tracy set her cards down.

  “All I want is my father back, Raven.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “It’s why I don’t connect with other people. Once you lose somebody—”

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  Raven felt the weight of the locket around his neck. He made no move to show her, though. “More than you think,” he said.

  They played, but Raven’s mind wasn’t on the game. The life they led might have its rewards, but pain was a trade-off too.

  Raven’s phone rang. Nadiya said she and Petro were waiting for them in the lobby.

  42

  Dinner was at a fancy place Raven couldn’t pronounce and didn’t care to try. All he knew was Orest Chumachenko was a few tables away. He had a plan to upset the big shot’s night.

  Nadiya and Petro made small talk while they waited for drinks. Raven let Tracy give the non-committal responses. Chumachenko and his entourage were having a grand old time at their table. Their jovial exclamations combined with the noise in the crowded restaurant. The wait staff didn’t take the loud volume well. They wore expressions of resignation at the audible assault their eardrums suffered. Raven noticed one busboy wearing earplugs.

  Finally, Petro, who sat nearest to Raven, leaned close and pointed out the players.

  “Chumachenko is at the head of the table,” the mousy man said. “On his right is his wife, Vikka. She has two daughters Chumachenko dotes on, much to the annoyance of their father.”

  “Why?”

  “He can’t afford the same gifts Chumachenko provides. He’s afraid they will think he’s not good enough.”

  “Some fathers worry too much,” Raven said. “His kids won’t do that.”

  “The rest are Chumachenko’s business associates. His accountant, his lawyer. Nobody we suspect of being involved with planning the attack.”

  “Sure.”

  “Your two friends aren’t there.”

  “So?” Raven said. He hadn’t expected to see Aaron or Draco and wasn’t disappointed. “I’m sure they won’t be hard to find once we take care of the boss.”