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I try to relax my body, starting at my shoulders and then moving to my jaw when I realize how tightly it’s clenched. Slowly, I inhale, and my vision narrows in on the target. Even though my hands are shaking, I hold the gun firmly and squeeze the trigger.
It jumps in my hands, but not so much that I can’t control it. I hear a ding from the bullet hitting the target, and it folds backwards in defeat.
“Alright!” Ivan cheers from beside me. His hands clamp down on my shoulders. “Not so bad, after all. You’re a natural!”
My laughter takes some of the tension away, and the wind dries some of the sweat from my forehead. “You really think it was fine?” I ask, still staring at the bent target.
“That’s on target, so yes. We’ll see if it’s a fluke in just a moment,” he says, pulling a remote from his pocket and clicking a button. The orange target pops back up. “Go ahead and take another shot.”
I squint at the target, raising my gun again and firing a shot off much quicker. It hits the target, knocking it over again.
“Amazing,” Ivan says, beaming at me like a proud parent. “You are going to do great. Let’s get you on some harder targets and see how you do.”
18
Ivan
I couldn’t be prouder of the progress that Lily has made since she arrived at my house. When he first got here, she was a shivering little baby deer consumed by fear and unable to see anything but danger.
Now, she is the danger.
Even I’m a little scared of her after seeing how accurate her shots were on the range. She managed to hit some of the targets that I missed, making her one of the best shooters in the Bratva with little to no practice.
Of course, all that shooting takes a toll on the body, and she’s currently napping on the couch in the lounge. I’m tempted to join her, but my explosives team has just finished with the safe and they assure me it’s okay to open.
So, I leave my precious girl to get some rest, carrying the safe to my office to dig into it. If this doesn’t have any information about Project G, then perhaps one of Dimitri’s hard drives could tell me something helpful.
Cracking the safe isn’t a problem, since the explosives team already drilled holes in the lock. It opens without an issue, revealing something both surprising and a disheartening.
I lean back in my leather chair, reaching for a cigar and lighting it before I even attempt to make sense of what Dimitri put in the safe. Smoke fills the room, and I close my eyes, imagining what Dimitri could’ve meant by this.
Coming up blank, I open my eyes, reaching into the safe and pulling out the little wad of cotton inside. It’s raw, like it was plucked straight from the plant and not pulled from the stuffing of a toy.
I sniff it, trying to get some idea of what it’s for. It doesn’t smell like anything unusual, no chemicals or perfumes. At first inspection, it really does just seem like a random little piece of cotton.
But it can’t be that. It must mean something. Dimitri wouldn’t have left this in a safe if it wasn’t somehow important.
And if it turns out not to be, I’m probably going to lose my mind over it before we ever find the research for Project G.
I toss the cotton on the top of my desk, watching it like I expect it to grow legs and run away. There’s a secret here, a riddle, perhaps, and it’s my job to figure out the answer.
I drum my fingers on the top of my desk, my thoughts growing increasingly abstract.
Cotton. What does that have to do with Project G?
Dimitri was working on a unique process for diluting gasoline using a special chemical compound that could be added the tanks before they’re delivered to gas stations. Theoretically, it would show very little difference in milage, and it wouldn’t damage engines, but it would cut ten cents off the cost of a gallon.
Ten cents multiplied by the 376-million gallons consumed in the United States daily would be enough to make us rich many times over. The implications are astounding, but it would only work if the research was finished.
And all I have for proof of this incredible project is a little ball of cotton.
I groan, running my fingers through my hair as I stare down at the dastardly puff of white on my desk. Dimitri wasn’t one for jokes. He was a serious man when discussing Bratva matters, and he would never do something like this as a prank.
For the life of me, though, I can’t figure out what it means. I need other clues, something that will steer me in the right direction.
I’m halfway through my cigar, thoughts drifting slowly to madness, when there’s a soft knock on my door. It’s almost too quiet to hear, but I’m drenched in such an oppressive silence that it catches my attention.
Ash falls off my cigar before I can set it down on the crystal ash tray on my desk. I stand up, sweeping the piece of cotton into the palm of my hand before heading to the door.
