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Maybe he should go on a little offensehimself.
As the ass-end of the car spun out of control banking around a pin-turn corner in the dark road, he spoke louder to be heard over the loud song. "Remind me again why I couldn't just drive myself to the meet? You're gonna kill me before I even get to thecompound."
Alexi grinned, openly showing his pleasure that his driving was bothering hispassenger.
"They limit access in and out. That piece of shit you drive isn't authorized forentrance."
Ryder scoffed at having his high-end Mercedes-Benz referred to as a piece of shit. It was one of his favorite perks of hisjob.
"I get the need for security, but shouldn't they trust me bynow?"
He was fishing. Alexi was a bad actor. If the family suspected Nicolai was anything but what he portrayed of himself, Alexi wouldn't be able to keep that to himself. His lack of concern wascomforting.
"What's your last name again?" his friend inquired. When Ryder sat silently, he added, "Unless it's Volkov, you aren't part of thefamily."
He pushed on that point for a bit. "That's bullshit. You've been in the family your wholelife."
"My mother was a Volkov but she married outside of the Bratva. That makes me a second-class member. I'll know I'm really in when they ask me to change my name toVolkov."
Ryder didn't argue because he knew his friend wasright.
Alexi was just slowing down as they approached the outskirts of the upscale suburb when the song on the radio abruptly ended. A radio announcer broke in to the programming with a breakingstory.
Ryder only believed about half of what he heard coming out of the government controlled public broadcasting station, but his ears pricked just the same. A big part of his job on the ground in Moscow was relaying news being reported locally to his handlers back in Langley, whether it was true ornot.
"The prominent businessman's family was kidnapped outside of the ballet studio as they exited. Dead on the scene was one armed guard they'd hired as protection while in Russia. Mr. Marshall is offering the generous reward of three million rubles for information that leads to the safe return of his family. Anyone with information is asked to contact112."
Marshall. That name sounded familiar. AnAmerican?
He didn't have time to worry about that poor bastard's problems. He had his own to worry about. He needed to pay attention as they wound through the labyrinth of streets, always plotting out an escaperoute.
As they approached the fortified iron driveway gates of the Volkov estate, Ryder fought the urge to open the car door and disappear into the night. Every alarm bell he'd honed in his years of active duty was sounding, but he pushed the snooze button, silencing them. No way, he couldn't wimp out. He'd invested too many years in his cover to walk awaynow.
He pushed his apprehension down to greet the approaching armed guard, pressing the button to lower the window. The music had returned and was playing loud enough that it made it hard tohear.
"Nicolai, you here to try to win back some of the money you lost last time?" The burly guard's fierce appearance softened as he cracked a slysmile.
Ryder relaxed slightly. In his recent paranoia, he'd halfway been expecting to be treated like the spy he was when he arrived. That the guards were so casual helped him take a deep breath. "Don't forget I've come out ahead every other time we've played. I just felt sorry for your ass last time. It won't happen again," hecountered.
The guard, Ivan, barked a laugh, the semi-automatic rifle he had slung over his shoulder coming into view to remind Ryder this was not a friend. Ivan remembered as well, getting serious and delivering his instructions. "No weapons allowed in the house tonight. I won't insult you by disarming you now, but I warn you. Leave your weapons in this piece of shit car Alexi insists on driving before goinginside."
Alexi leaned over to shout out the window, "Jealous?"
While the two men exchanged barbs, Ryder thought through the odds of being caught carrying in his hidden stash of weapons. There was no way he was going in completely unarmed, but he just didn't know how much risk he shouldtake.
Mature trees, bare from the hard winter, lined the long driveway leading to the main house of the estate. Old-fashioned lamp posts were spread out every twenty-five feet, lending light to the dark night. To an uneducated tourist, the property looked like the upscale mansion of a reputable businessman, but locals called the property ????????????? which loosely translated topurgatory; the place people came to be judged. Only it wasn't God who did the judging here. It was Viktor Volkov or one of his three sons who decided who lived and who disappearedforever.
Alexi drove around the mammoth circle drive, pulling into a parking spot to the right of the grand steps leading to the double front doors. Silence greeted them as he turned off the roaring engine. A dusting of snow fell from the sky, blanketing the ground. For a brief moment, all was peaceful, but Ryder reminded himself this was just the calm before thestorm.
Making a show of removing the Glock weapon he wore in his shoulder holster, Ryder leaned down to place it on the floor near his feet. He knew from experience they were already on surveillance cameras. Every inch of the property, save the Volkov personal bedrooms, was taped at all times. If security didn't see your actions in real time, they could go back and review any footage later. It was just one of the reasons Ryder hated meetingshere.
He was already on the stage. Not for the first time he thought about how ironic it was that some of the world's best actors never got recognition for their talent. Unlike Khloe Monroe, his only reward for a job well done was living to see anotherday.
It was a hell of anincentive.
The massive door opened just as their shoes hit the top step. The regal doorman, Yurdin, had greeted him each time he'd visited, no matter what the time ofday.
"Mr. Ivanov. Mr. Romanovski. We've been expecting you. Please follow me." The butler bowed slightly, letting them stomp the excess snow from their shoes before closing the door and moving in the direction of the grandstaircase.
