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As soon as the guy hung up, Blitz moved, grabbing him around the neck and choking him out. He quickly got him into the car, using zip ties he found in the guy’s pocket to restrain him.
He started the engine, the GPS coming to life and on the little screen, he saw a blip, a moving blip.
Bree.
He grinned. Gotta love technology.
He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
* * *
Leonid Olenska hadn’t gottenwhere he was by being lax or meek. He hadn’t survived in this business by being careless. There was one way and one way only to deal with the obstacles in his way.
Violence.
The Americans viewed war as an unfortunate obstacle, and in their minds, not an extension of diplomacy but a symptom of its failure. Leonid thought of war as a natural extension of a nation’s interaction with everything around it. He had picked and chosen what worked best for him in his endeavor.
The West was at his door, sticking their noses in his business, and that was why David Ogden had to die. There were always casualties, including women and children, and Niger had been integral in his plans that were now coming to fruition. He’d attained what he needed from AAL and no longer had an interest in how that organization functioned. It would be best if its leader, with all the knowledge he had in his head, ceased to exist. He would leave those loose ends to his daughter.
A daughter he could lose as he’d lost his beloved son.
He closed his eyes, the memory of Uri so bright in his mind broke the terrible numbness beneath the pressure, and grief, sharp and rending, overwhelmed him. Uri—his Uri, the son whom he’d been so proud of had paid the price of his father’s ambitions. Leonid would have ripped out his own heart to prevent that from happening. But a woman, an FBI agent, who was seeking her own justice, had ended his life, and no matter what it took, he would find that woman and end her in a slow, agonizing way. She would beg for death before he took her life with his own hand.
Impatient for progress, he left his posh accommodations that would rival any yacht, the interior of the vessel completely opened up for indoor/outdoor living, with an abundance of alfresco dining and relaxation options, including a full bar, BBQ, large sunpad forward, two misting systems for hot days, and a unique corner waterfall, fifty-four jet jacuzzi with a swim-up bar. He had a stunning master suite, a private office, lounge area, and tricked-out bathroom. Down below in one of the many cargo bays were his toys—jet skis and sleek motorboats, and two helicopters using the double helipads.
Traveling the long corridor toward amidships, he stepped out on the deck of his cargo vessel, the one hundred and one millionMPV Imperiya, a striking gun-metal gray hull and white superstructure, specially built and fitted with both the ability to roll on and off and crane cargo. The hard wind of the North Atlantic buffeted his face as he moved to the cargo bay.
People stepped clear. He liked that. He liked it a lot. Fear and respect sent the crew back against the walls. He was on the catwalk, looking down into the massive hull.
The area was buzzing with activity. At least thirty men and women snapped to the orders given. Two missiles, each fifty-three feet long, were being reassembled. The launchers were retrofitted to work with French MRBM launchers he’d bought from AAL through Libya. Now all he waited for were the guidance chips.
“Call for you, boss,” a man yelled from below. Leonid reached for the handset on the steel wall.
“What is it?”
“Boss, we have an unidentified woman who had Mila Volkov’s locket. She and Mrs. Volkov have disappeared. Foreign Minister Volkov was bound and gagged at his residence. What would you like us to do?”
Aleksei…that traitorous, upstart bastard.
This was a definite fly in the ointment. His plans needed to remain secret, but Pavel’s self-righteous kid never could keep his fucking nose out of Leonid’s business. He was much more brilliant than his father, and the boy had a core of steel when it came to his principles. He’d had Pavel send him to Niger where loose ends were tied up and he’d be easy to find. There was no doubt in his mind that Aleksei was defecting. Who knew what else he had on Leonid and his organization he could use to tip off the West. He couldn't afford that.
“Kill Pavel. Make it look like it was an accident. Tell anyone who gets in the way that Mrs. Volkov and their daughter are indisposed. Find them and bring them to me and get someone who won’t fail us to Niger and discreetly obtain Aleksei. Killanyonewho gets in your way, but I want Aleksei alive and here on this ship. Is that clear?”
“Yes, boss.”
“His family will be the leverage I need. He’s the epicenter of this fuck up, and I need to know how much we are compromised.
“And the woman?”
“Get as much information out of her as you can by any means. Then dispose of her.”
“Got it, boss.”
He hung up the phone, agitated. Everything hinged on a surprise attack. They would never see it coming, unless Aleksei was a ticking time bomb who would fuck up everything. He was going to enjoy killing Pavel’s son, no matter how much he admired the kid’s courage, determination, and principles.
The other thing about war…there were always traitors.
* * *
