Vasily lowered the stairs for the men, helping Peter into the jet. When the pilot boarded, he stared at his yellowed face.
“Are you alright? Can you fly?”
“Yes, sir. I’m already feeling better,” he said. He stepped into the cockpit and began checking the engines but nothing was happening. Nothing was connecting.
“What’s wrong? Why aren’t we moving?” asked Vasily.
“I don’t know. The engines won’t fire. Nothing will fire.”
Vasily looked around the plane, suddenly realizing that the plans were gone. The maps that were laid out on the table just this morning were no longer there.
“Get off the jet! Get off!” he yelled. The men did as they were told, practically falling out of the plane. When they stood together, the realized they weren’t alone.
“Hello, Vasily. Nice to see you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Jordan. How is this possible?” he asked Peter, turning to face him. Peter shook his head, turning to look at their communications and technology experts.
“It’s not possible, sir,” said one of the men, shaking his head in disbelief. “We knew what we were doing. It was the best technology known to man. No one could trace your calls.”
He knew he was a dead man.
“Don’t blame him,” smiled Christopher. “He was good, just not good enough. You’ve had enough exposure to us to know that we usually have the upper hand.”
“You’re his son?” he asked, pointing to Wes.
“I am and I’m Marissa’s father. For that alone, I should put a bullet between your eyes.”
“I have other men in the trees,” he lied. They all just smirked at him, not even bothering to turn and look.
“You have no one else. No one,” said Gator. “In fact, you should see this news report from Moscow by your beloved president. My Russian isn’t perfect but I believe he’s telling the world that he had no idea of what you were doing or the lengths to which you would go. In fact, if I may quote him, he says that you are a narcissistic, megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur. Ouchie.”
“Traitors come in all forms,” said Vasily. “Sometimes wearing your own colors. You should know that.”
Behind him, Vasily knew that at least two of his men were preparing to pull their weapons. They’d trained for circumstances such as this many times. However, they’d nevertrained against these men. He knew it was coming, he could feel it, sense it. It was something he knew all too well.
“I wouldn’t think about doing that if I were you,” said Tobias’ deep voice. Vasily turned, seeing a man he hadn’t noticed before. He held a blade to one man’s neck, a gun to the other man’s head. “Drop your weapons.”
They did as they were told which only infuriated Vasily further. If they didn’t die on this runway, they would die when they returned to Moscow. In fact, he could already picture pushing them out of the jet while they were in the air.
“You won’t get out of here, Vasily. Everyone wants you dead,” said Wes.
“Then kill me. Why make such a big show of everything? Just shoot me and be done with it.”
“We didn’t want to make a mess in the house. After all, it’s a rented home and I’m sure the owners don’t want to have to clean all that up. Besides, I always prefer to look a man in the eye when I’m about to kill him.”
“Except my son,” he seethed.
“I looked your son in the eyes. The day before I killed him, I told him to leave the women alone. I told him to walk away with the drugs but I couldn’t let him walk with the women. He only laughed, saying the women were worth more.”
“Why did you care? What did it matter to you? Those women were insignificant and engaged in stupid activities that took them to that point,” asked Vasily.
“One of those women was important to someone I knew. She was just a kid, not even eighteen yet.” Vasily clenched his jaw, suddenly angry at his son. Their rule was always to take women over the age of eighteen. No one younger. He shouldhave suspected that Alexei was influenced by the drugs and not paying attention any longer.
“I had to shoot him, Vasily. He’d gone overboard and did things he shouldn’t have done.”
“He was my only son,” said the old man looking older by the minute.
