Rasputin's Shadow

45

The van fishtailed as it turned left out of Brightwater onto Coney Island Avenue and headed north. Bon ran a stop sign, then jumped two sets of lights, but the traffic was so sparse at this time of night that it barely made a difference.

Next to him, Jonny had his head stuck out the open window, his eyes focused behind them, trying to see if they were being followed.

“Jen jang,” he cursed. Dammit. He pulled back into the van. “There’s a cop car tailing us. Can’t this piece of shit go any faster?” His pupils were the size of quarters, his blood hosting an escalating concentration of adrenaline and endorphins.

The van lurched forward as Bon floored the gas and ran another set of lights. This time they made it over the intersection a split second before a short line of cars filled the cross street.

Bon turned right onto a side street, then immediately took a left.

Jonny peered out the window. He waited until they’d done a few more turns before facing forward and taking a deep breath.

“I think we’ve lost them,” he told Bon. He slapped him on the arm three times. “Good job, Pulgasari.”

He stared ahead. It was past two in the morning, and the roads were empty. He tried to keep a lid on his emotions and concentrate on reaching the ice rink, but he knew he’d gone too far this time. He knew there was no deceit or manipulation or charm that could extricate him from the spiraling violence in which he found himself trapped.

Ae-Cha had never wanted to be part of his world, but once she’d fallen for Jachin-it was Jonny who had introduced them-it was only a matter of time before she was dragged into their wake.

Jonny felt a surge of fury that was coupled with a parallel burst of sadness, and for the first time, he began to wonder if his brother and Shin had perhaps made the right decision after all.

KOSCHEY WAS ALREADY OVER the Manhattan Bridge and heading down Flatbush Avenue toward Prospect Park.

Major cities were easy for him. In between assignments, he often spent weeks in solitary lockdown, most recently in a rented villa just outside the tiny village of Mougins on the French Riviera, usually with no more than an encrypted satellite Internet connection for company. He used that time wisely, to prepare, to explore, to compile useful lists-including lists of discreet locations to stay at, or to meet in. Even though the entire apparatus of the Russian intelligence service was at his disposal, he preferred to work alone, and for no one-not even his direct superior-to know anything more than what they told him. It was safer that way, both for him and for them.

He’d previously identified the lot next to the ice rink in Prospect Park as one of a handful of suitable locations for a meeting away from prying eyes, something that wasn’t especially easy in a place as crowded as New York City. While most of the city was increasingly covered by CCTV, the park itself had minimal coverage, and he knew where the cameras were and where they pointed.

A pained grunt came from the seat next to him. Ae-Cha was struggling against the plastic strip that bound her wrists together, but had only succeeded in gouging a layer of skin from one wrist. A trickle of blood had stained the seat beneath it.

It didn’t matter. The car wasn’t long for this world.

Neither was its passenger.

CHEWING GUM VIGOROUSLY LIKE a coach watching a final, the Sledgehammer sat in the cushy backseat of the Mercedes GL450 and checked his Desert Eagle as the black SUV pulled away into the night.

His lieutenant Petr-a thin man with a tailored suit, cowboy boots, and a mop of blond hair that failed to conceal a vivid scar running horizontally across one cheek-was behind the wheel. Two indistinguishable thugs in leather jackets were riding with them. None of the heavies sported the usual tattoos of the lower-rung bratki. They were Mirminsky’s personal entourage, all ex-Russian Army Spetsnaz, specifically veterans of some of the most brutal Special Forces incursions into Chechnya. All three of them now earned more from him in a week, and with much better perks, than they’d received from the Russian state in a year.

Mirminsky’s cell rang.

It was Ditko.

“Prospect Park,” the cop informed him. “The lot by the skating rink.”

The Sledgehammer grunted. “Keep me posted.” Then he clicked off.

He’d make sure the cop got something extra for his trouble. Mirminsky always rewarded those who helped him. It was one of the reasons he had risen so quickly. He believed in the old saying: knut i pryanik-“the whip and the gingerbread.” Only, his whip had barbs.

He directed Petr where to go, then ran his fingers over his Desert Eagle, a savage impatience rising through him.

APARO HUNG A LEFT as I grabbed the radio handset and squawked for comms.

“Do you still have them?”

After a moment, Talaoc’s crackly voice replied. “We do. We lost them for a few blocks, but we’ve caught up with them again. We’re on Ocean, still heading north.”

I glanced at Aparo and pictured a map of the city in my mind’s eye.

He asked, “Where are they going?”

“Ivan must have told them to head someplace where they can do the trade. Ae-Cha for the van. Somewhere quiet. But at this hour-could be anywhere.”

I lifted the handset back to my mouth. “All right, just hang back, but don’t lose them again. We’re about ten minutes out. Backup’s on the way too. Be advised the van might be hooking up with our shooter. Might be a hostage-exchange situation. This guy is armed and extremely dangerous.”

Talaoc took a second, then his voice came back. “Copy that.”

As I replaced the handset, Aparo shook his head. “Why do I feel real lucky to still be alive?”

I scowled into the night. At least I’d finally seen our shooter’s face, and I knew a bit more about what we were dealing with. It helped to see him. It helped demystify him and change him from a mythical monster into just another psychopath who enjoyed killing people. But I sensed something else.

“I think this could be our last chance to get him,” I told Aparo. “He gets the van and disappears, that’s it. He’s gone.”

“Let’s make sure we get him then,” Aparo said.

I just said “Yeah” and left it at that.