The Black Bullet

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

Andrei Keltzin stood by a dirty window on the north side of the room, looked out and saw Mohammed Sharif’s three vehicles turning into the parking lot. He said nothing as he watched Borshnik move away from Gate’s body and speak to one of the men sitting behind the bank of laptop computers.

Keltzin stepped back from the window. “Shall I dispose of the corpse?”

Borshnik looked at Gates burned body. “I wonder what they did with my father’s body. Probably fed it to American hogs. Yes, remove it.”

Keltzin nodded, began untwisting the wires from the charred flesh. “Could Zahkar help me?”

Borshnik said, “Be quick.”

On the ground floor, Keltzin said, “We can carry him to the end of the dock and let him go in the water. It is probably deep. The body should stay down for a while before it floats. You will be back in Russia by then.”

“And you return to New York to await further instructions?”

“Yes. Let us share a cigarette first. I have some very good ones made in Pakistan.” Keltzin reached inside his jacket and pulled a knife, the movement a half second blur. He sank the knife to the hilt directly into Sorokin’s heart. The man fell like a steer in a slaughterhouse.

Keltzin turned and waved toward Mohammed Sharif’s vehicles, directing him to park on the far side of the warehouse. Sharif got out of the car, nine men following him.

“We can go though the freight elevator entrance,” Keltzin said. “I just took out one of his men. That leaves seven including Borshnik. They are on the third floor, the northeast corner of the building. Go up the steps and turn right at the top. The room will be less than twenty meters down the hall.”

Sharif gestured with his head and one of his men handed Keltzin an oversized black attache case. Keltzin lowered it to the ground and opened it. The case was filled with stacks of hundred-dollar bills. Sharif said, “We do not have time for you to count it.”

Keltzin grinned. “I trust you.”

Sharif touched his cheek and said, “That will be your last big mistake.” One of his men raised a Beretta with a silencer and shot Keltzin through the back of the head, blood and brain matter scattering across the green of the money.

Sharif looked across the river. “Our boat is approaching. Proceed upstairs. You know what to do. Today, some of us will enter paradise. Inshallad.”