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Hold on, Minochka. Hold on for me.
Anton hands me earphones with an integrated mic. I yank out the ear-fitted ones to fit the headset. He passes a similar set to Ilya so we can talk over the noise.
When we’re airborne, I ask, “Any problems with landing clearance?”
“Sorted,” Anton replies tersely. “It’s going to cost us another fifty grand, though.”
I don’t give a fuck about money. All that matters is Mina. “Weapons?”
Anton tilts his head toward the back. “AK-47 and two Glocks.”
Good.
Ilya turns in his seat to look at Mina. His broad face is uncharacteristically pale. He cares about her, too. “She should be in a hospital. Fuck! We should’ve taken her to the closest one in Prague.”
“And get her arrested?” I say. “Get ourselves detained? How would we have been able to help her then?”
Sweat beads on Ilya’s forehead. “Why Budapest?”
“Mina has a doctor friend at the clinic where her grandmother stays.”
“Who says this doctor will help us?” Ilya asks.
I’ll hold a gun to the doctor’s head if I have to, but I have a feeling she won’t deny us medical assistance. I’ve done my homework. The good doctor and clinic director, Lena Adami, was Mina’s late mother’s best friend. She’s like a godmother to Mina. The substantial donation I recently made to the clinic in Hanna’s name can’t hurt our chances either.
“He did the right thing,” Anton says to Ilya. “Mina isn’t safe anywhere in public.”
My back goes more rigid than it already is, a muscle pinching between my shoulder blades. “What are you talking about?”
Anton’s voice is strained. “There’s a price on her head.”
I barely manage to tamp down my explosive anger. “What?”
“She’s a free-for-all,” Anton continues. “Five million. Every hitman from here to Antarctica is hunting for her.”
I instinctively tighten my hold on her. “Who? How?”
“That fucker I tortured spilled all the beans.” Anton glances at me from over his shoulder. “You’re not going to like it.”
“I already don’t fucking like it.”
“I cornered Laszlo Kiss in his cozy little cabin,” Anton says. “At first, he didn’t give me anything, not until the third finger. Things only got more and more interesting with every finger after that.”
“Just spit it out,” I snap, dragging a hand over Mina’s clammy brow.
“Kiss said they were paid to rough Mina up, all eleven of them.”
I sit up straighter. “What?”
“Shut up and listen,” Anton says. “The men got paid for the job, and they did the job well. They already resented Mina, anyway. They didn’t want a woman on their team, especially not a woman who made them eat her dust. It was humiliating. Their egos were bruised. When the offer came, they didn’t have to think about it for long. It was quick money. No consequences. The superior officer would make sure everything was swept under the carpet. Nice and easy. Nothing more to it. They’d carry on with their lives and have a fat bonus in their bank accounts with the added benefit of Mina quitting the team.”
I can’t believe my fucking ears. “It was a ploy to get rid of her?” From what her superior had said right before I cut out his tongue, the fact that he wanted Mina gone shouldn’t come as a surprise, but I can’t get my head around the fact that they were willing to go that far just to make her leave.
“That’s what Kiss said. After what I did to him, I can guarantee you he wasn’t lying.” Anton grimaces. “Mina didn’t want to quit on her own, so they reckoned she needed a little nudge.”
“A little fucking nudge?” Mina was almost beaten to death. There’s a chance she may never have children. It’s a fucking heavy price to make someone pay just to get her to leave. I’m glad those motherfuckers are dead. I’m glad I made them suffer before someone else killed them.
“According to Kiss,” Anton continues, “they got carried away. They were supposed to hurt Mina a bit and scare her shitless, but once the violence started, their bloodlust took over.”
“Who was it?” Ilya asks, the fury I feel in my bones etched on his face. “Who paid them? Tell me you have a name.”
“Of course I do.” Anton adjusts a dial on the control panel. “You’re not going to believe this.” He glances at me again. “It was Gergo Nagy, her training officer.”
Motherfucker. The suppressed anger turns into a wave of rage that rolls through my body until every molecule burns with a white-hot need to kill. The things I imagine doing to that ublyudok will make even a hardened killer like Ilya wince.
I’m going to catch Nagy. I’m going to catch him and make him pay.
My voice doesn’t carry my fury. It’s cold and cruel, a giveaway that I’m at my most dangerous. “Mina and Nagy were supposed to be friends. Why would Nagy do something like that?” To have orchestrated such a brutal attack, there must’ve been more to his motivation than sexist discrimination.
