Blood Vengeance

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Blood King evaluated the mood of his men. The focus was still high, the expectancy soaring. They had made it this far, but the toughest part of the plan was about to unfold. He looked to Gabriel behind the bar, pleased to see the African’s ever-present malicious optimism. If luck and success could be garnered through sheer will and belief, then the African would see them through a hundredfold.

Kovalenko made another call, this time to an FBI number. When the operative answered he asked to be put through to the leader of the on-site Hostage Rescue Team. Within minutes the call was live.

“You had to test me, you American assholes, didn’t you?” he said. “I warned you, did I not? Will you now try to test me again?”

“Our teams have been ordered to stand down,” came the expected reply. “What is it you want?”

Kovalenko paused for a second. Why aren’t they asking about Coburn? “Did you recover the body?”

“We know it wasn’t the President. In fact, it was an English book critic, in town for the East Coast Book Fair. Congratulations, you murdered an innocent civilian.”

“Ah,” Kovalenko waved it away. “You see, in my war there are no innocents. You people,” he spat. “You live in a world where everything is taken for granted. You shop at your food markets and whine at an empty shelf. You complain about stale bread. You have,” he paused to think, “Reality TV? You assholes need to learn that you know nothing about reality. Nothing.”

“Hey, I hate that shit as much as the next guy. What is it you want, Kovalenko?”

“You failed to stop me so now I will leave. You must have a kind of infra-red or tracker wired to President’s heart? You have something, that I do know, otherwise you would have asked about his welfare. Now, a chopper is approaching Washington airspace. My chopper, dah? Let it pass through. Let it land on hotel roof or President dies. You hear me? I read President Coburn earned his wings in battle. We will see if they help him fly out of the fucking window, dah?”

“We can’t just let a chopper through. The chain of command goes all the way to—”

“Let it through,” Kovalenko hissed. “Or Coburn dies right now. On this open channel.”

“If you kill the President you lose all bargaining power.”

Kovalenko signaled Gabriel. The African moved faster than a puma, slinking around the wet bar and hauling Coburn up by the neck. The President yelled in surprise and pain, unnerved by the sudden violence.

“Do you want death of President on your head?” Kovalenko whispered into the phone.

“Just… just wait. Hang on.” The fearful voice cut off.

Kovalenko smiled. “Happy to.”