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I’ve been scouring the region from top to bottom looking for any hints of his whereabouts. Konstantin’s information was too general, too vague, so I’ve had no choice but to camp out in a small hotel in the corner of the city while I do my due diligence. It’s one thing to go up to a man and shoot him point blank, but it’s another matter entirely to pull off a hit and make it out alive. This isn’t a one and done sort of deal. I need to be careful, orImight end up with a bullet in my head.
I’ve put a couple of feelers out, asked around. The locals are tight-lipped, however. When I try to bring up Nicolai, they have a tendency to scuttle away saying they’ve never heard of the man. They’re lying, which tells me one of two things: they’re either afraid of Nicolai and are afraid of what the Stokayevski Bratva might do to them, or they’re afraid ofmeand what the Antonov Bratva might do to them. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
And I’m running out of time.
My hotel room has become a bit of a command center. I’ve got maps of the city pinned to the ugly puce-colored walls, suspected locations either circled or crossed out with black marker. My laptop is open, a secure chat box open on screen. I’ve got the radio set to the local police scanners, too, listening for any hint of chatter about Nicolai’s whereabouts. If the cops aren’t actively hunting him down, then there’s a good chance they’re protecting him. The Antonov’s aren’t the only ones with contacts inside the police department. If I’m patient, I’ll hear whispers sooner or later.
I think I found his phone number.
I’m quick to respond to Luka’s chat message. The whole system is encrypted, not just for his safety, but for mine. I won’t risk using my cellphone out here. An American number is too easy to identify, and I don’t want any rival Bratva tracking me down the way Konstantin did.
Any recent pings? We can try and triangulate his location.
It hasn’t seen any activity in over three weeks. I assume he smashed it to bits to keep from being discovered.
Give me his last ping, then. I can work from there.
He could literally be anywhere, Misha. What if he’s left the country?
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh in frustration. My brother is right. There’s no telling if Nikolai Stokayevski is even in the country. Konstantin could have me on a wild goose chase, for all I know. I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. I can’t give up now. Not whensheis waiting for me.
I haven’t stopped thinking about Aurora. I miss her so much that I feel the ache in my bones. Guilt weighs heavily on my chest. She’s in this mess because of me. I sincerely hope my uncle is making good on his promise to take care of her; otherwise there’s going to be hell to pay.
Just give me the info. I’ll take it from there.
One sec.
I take my gun apart, breaking it down into its individual pieces. My hands are desperate for something to do while I wait. I strip my weapon down to the screws, the parts arranged neatly on the glass coffee table of my hotel room. I must have stripped my gun a hundred times today alone, but it’s the only way to keep my wits about me. My thoughts spiral otherwise. The monotony of the task—taking it apart, putting it back together, taking it apart again—calms my nerves. It gives me the control I so desperately need to feel.
Nicolai Stokayevski needs to die, but the problem is I don’twantto kill him. I may be a heartless businessman, but I’m not a murderer. My situation is made infinitely worse by the fact that Konstantin wants video proof. Images are easy to fake. I could have sourced a body from somewhere—maybe I could bribe the local morgue to provide a cadaver—and dress it up to look like Nicolai. It could have been convincing. Unfortunately, video evidence ismuchharder to manipulate. I have no doubt Konstantin asked for a video of Nicolai’s execution for that very reason.
I put my gun back together again, counting the bullets as I pop them back into the magazine. Fifteen rounds. If all goes well, I’ll only need to use one. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to use any at all. My mind spins. There has to be a way around this. Therehasto be. I may be teetering over the edge of right and wrong, but I refuse to let Konstantin push me over.
My laptop dings. A new message from Luka pops up.
Northeast of Belgorod. Very rural area. Lots of ground to cover.
I grind my molars as I inspect the map he attached. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. I haven’t explored this area yet, so I really have nothing to lose.
You better be careful. Dimitri’s gone completely grey.
He worries too much.
You can’t exactly blame us.
I miss my brothers. I misshome. But the more time that passes, the more I’m beginning to realize there’s no going back. I’ve been sent down a one-way path. My old life is dead and gone. Maybe it was always meant to end up this way. When I was younger, I used to dream of exacting vengeance for my father’s death. But I was too naive, too small to take on my uncle. Now I’m back and things are different. If Konstantin wants me to embrace who I am, who I was meant to be, then fine.
When the time is right—I’ll show himexactlywhat kind of monster I’m capable of being.
I stash my gun in the waistband of my pants and grab my jacket from the edge of the bed. Nicolai can’t hide from me forever. Before I set out, I send my youngest brother one last message.
Has Dimitri heard back from his contact yet?
Not yet, but I’m sure he’s on board. Will keep you posted.
You’d better. We’ve only got one shot at this.
And with that, I set out to find my mark.
