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“Okay, why?” Nik demanded, catching up with him. Brudin was trotting quickly down the hill, cutting across the crowded roadway, pushing tourists out of his way.
Once they were out of the main part of Aguas Calientes, Nik caught up with him on the red, muddy soil underfoot there. He looked up and saw that the train had already pulled into the station, its bright red and yellow length stark against the green tin roof high above it. “Why?” Nik demanded again, easily keeping up with Brudin, who reeked of alcohol.
“Korsak just got word that the New York Russian Mafia leader, Rolan Pavlovich, is making a surprise visit to our team.”
So, that was what this was all about! Nik nodded, remaining grim, following Brudin down the hill to the small bridge that crossed the violent, rushing tributary that cut through between the town and the station, feeding downstream into the mighty Urubamba River. The bridge route took them out of their way but it was better than to try and cross the river via the other option. If anyone tried to get across those cold, icy glacier waters from the Andes and slipped off one of the wet rocks the local children often chain-hauled tourists’ luggage across, they’d be hurled down over the cataracts below and fed into the mighty Urubamba River which was at least four times more violent. Most who fell into it, drowned. Pretty much no one had ever been saved, Nik had heard, except for an American woman a long time ago, who had been rescued and made it out alive. She had been damned lucky.
His mind spun with questions. His boots thunking hollowly across the wooden bridge. There was another steep hill after the bridge, leading up to the station. The evening light was upon the area of cleared jungle in which the town huddled. Nik saw the clouds begin to close in, blot out the pale blue sky, and begin to descend as they did every twilight in the wintertime. Brudin looked upset. Maybe Korsak had known Pavlovich was coming? But said nothing until he was sure he’d arrive? If that was the case, then Korsak trusted no one on his team. Not really. But then, Pavlovich was their new boss. Was he coming to meet them? Give them new rules and regulations? Demand more cocaine be made and transported? Test their loyalty to him, now that Alexandrov was out of the picture? Nik had never heard of this new Russian, so he knew as little about him as Brudin did.
They reached the station, and Nik wasn’t at all surprised as the train cars began to disgorge around fifty people each, all of many, many nationalities. Korsak was waiting by the expensive parlor car in which the rich traveled. He saw the rest of Korsak’s team, Kravec and Duboff, standing off to one side. They had dressed in their cleanest clothes, were shaven and clean-cut-looking. Hmmm… so only Brudin and he hadn’t known? Brudin was in a sweaty green t-shirt, soiled cammies, was unshaven and bleary-eyed, half drunk. Nik was glad that he looked halfway decent in comparison. His hand tightened on the strap of his ruck as they slowed to a stop. Korsak turned and nodded to them, his face expressionless. He looked away again; his gaze focused on the opening train door in front of him.
Nik was breathing easily, but Brudin was huffing, leaning over, his hands on his knees, head down. He was probably going to vomit. Would serve the bastard right. Nik moved around to stand on the other side of Korsak, out of the way of any potential spraying.
There wasn’t a long wait. Only four couples left that rich car. The last man that stepped off behind them was dressed in a cream-colored silk shirt and dark brown slacks with a matching corduroy blazer. He was at least six feet tall, well-built like a swimmer, with an oval face and high cheekbones. Nik saw the man had light-browneyes, with an amber cast in their depths and sported a fashionably-short cut for his black hair. He spotted a gold Rolex on the man’s thick wrist and several gold rings on the fingers across both his hands. The collar of his silk shirt was open, revealing the top of a white t-shirt, also of silk, beneath it. His leather loafers looked expensive to Nik, probably from Italy. The aura of the man was all about power. Rolan Pavlovich traveled alone, but the energy around him hit Nik palpably. He was surprised at first that such a man had no bodyguards with him, until two emerged from another train car further down. Both were hard-looking men, most likely ex-Spetsnaz, or maybe even Russian GRU security itself. Who knew?
Korsak instantly moved forward, extending his hand, a jovial smile on his face. Nik watched the introductions carefully. Ustin did not know Rolan, and vice-versa. It felt as if they were two male jaguars circling, sizing one another up. For once, Nik was glad to be only a soldier in the team, not the leader. The two security guards kept sharp watch. Although Nik couldn’t see any weapons on them, he would bet they both had Glocks slid into the back of their belts, hidden beneath the black nylon jackets they wore.
After introductions were over with, Korsak turned. He gave a snapping order to Kravec and Duboff to pick up Pavlovich’s luggage from the baggage car halfway down the long train.
“I’ve got a splitting headache, Ustin,” Pavlovich said. “Which man is your medic?”
“That would be him, Morozov,” Korsak pointed toward Nik. “Get up here!”
Nik ignored the violent gesture by Korsak, stepping calmly forward at his own pace. He held out his hand toward Pavlovich.
“Nik Morozov, sir. How may I be of help?” he asked him in Russian.
Pavlovich gave him an amused look and shook his hand. “Maybe some Ibuprofen? My maid forgot to pack my medications.”
Nik shrugged out of his pack and set it on the ground, opening it quickly. He pulled a small bottle of 800 mg. Ibuprofen from a pocket and stood, handing it to the man with the soft, manicured fingers. “I have some water, sir…”
Pavlovich halted and nodded, giving him a look of praise. “Yes.”
As Nik found a small bottle of water, he heard Korsak say, “He’s a good medic. Damned trouble, otherwise. Too righteous. I keep him around because he saves our lives.”
Mouth thinning, Nik said nothing, opening the bottle of pills for Pavlovich and placing it into his outstretched hand. The Mafia leader nodded his thanks, a curious glint in his eyes as he met Nik’s own, and studied him for a moment, sizing him up like he had Korsak.
The light was low, and Nik stood waiting, knowing if he didn’t think on his feet and give Korsak what he wanted, that, like yesterday, the man would try to beat the shit out of him. He could try, but Nik knew without a doubt, he would best him. They’d never come to blows, but that didn’t mean someday that they wouldn’t. Korsak had already broken Kravec’s large nose, busted up Brudin’s left cheekbone and broken Duboff’s hard jaw. So far, he’d avoided Korsak’s fists. Squinting a little, Nik’s heart suddenly stuttered. As Pavlovich tipped his head back, swallowing water to wash the Ibuprofen down, he saw a birthmark exactly like Daria’s! Stunned, he gawked for a moment. Catching himself, he saw Pavlovich notice his reaction.Damn.
As he brought the bottle away from his mouth Pavlovich smiled a little and capped it. “You see my birthmark, Morozov? You’re pretty alert.” He tossed the bottle to one of his security men, who easily caught it.
“I thought,” Nik stumbled, “it might be an old wound or something, sir. I was wondering if it was causing the headache.” It was a complete lie, but he couldn’t get caught like this.
Pavlovich grew thoughtful, rubbed the area where the quarter-moon crescent lay on the left side of his neck, behind his ear. “Very astute observation, Morozov.” He smiled. “I like you. I’m going to need more medications once we get to the hotel. Follow me and my men up? If you have the meds I need, that will be good. If not, I can have Korsak call Cusco and they’ll be on the next train tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir,” Nik said, relief washing through him. That had been so close.Too close.Korsak glared out at him from behind Pavlovich.
“But you said you wanted to talk tome,” Korsak protested, stepping up to Pavlovich.
Waving his manicured hand at the team leader, he said, “I’m tired, Ustin. Get me to the hotel. I want my medications and I want to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. We’ll have our meeting then. Morozov? Are you coming?” and he took off down the hill, leaving the team to scramble in his wake.
Nik saw Korsak grow livid, saying nothing, but his eyes flashed murderously with the rage he kept to himself. Brudin hung back. Korsak hadn’t even bothered introducing the slovenly Russian who was drunk and smelled sour from not bathing for the last couple of days. Nik had no idea which hotel to head for, but there was a very nice one at the top of the town’s hill. Knowing better than to ask Korsak anything for fear of making him embarrassed, Nik saw him walk quickly across the bridge to get abreast of Pavlovich.
“You’ll be at the finest hotel, Don Pavlovich.”
“Five star?”
“Er… I don’t know… they say it’s the best.”
