Madness (Revenge Series Book 3) (18 page)

I have no idea what happened to Nikolai. Maybe he tried to help me and they killed him. Maybe he stood by and watched as I was taken away. Wherever he is, it doesn’t matter now. I can’t rely on him to save me. I did that when I was at the auction, and it didn’t pay off. It’s up to me to stay alive and to get free from this hellhole. Whether I kill my way out or die in the process, I’m leaving.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY

Nikolai

August 25, 2015 9:33 p.m.

I
finish fastening the last of our gear to our bodies, ready for war. The black battle gear I wear holds everything we need to storm the Stravinsky mansion. I have extra clips for my nine millimeter, a small knife for the quiet kills, and of course, for Stravinsky, the very knife he gave me when I became a full-fledged
thief
—my eight-inch Bowie strapped securely to my right leg.

The cloaking guilt I experienced when I stood back and let Josslyn take the pain was surprisingly gut wrenching. I never before had a problem stomaching the horrors a person would have to endure, yet since meeting Josslyn, I find I’m battling myself more and more to remain the old me. I’m no longer numb to the horrors around me. Perhaps that’s why I saved the girl. I can’t stomach the torture of innocent people, and I’m certain Josslyn is the reason for it.

It became next to impossible to stop myself from shooting every one of those fuckers, which would have ruined the next step in the plan. Instead, I managed to get myself out without any problems.

Initially, I wasn’t sure what happened to Josslyn. When I met Cubby at the Jeep, however, he described the woman who was leaving with the Stravinsky’s buyer, and I knew it was Josslyn.

She was sold to a sadistic fucker who likes women who fight. I have heard the cries of the women at night when he tortured them. I stood by, letting it happen. Back then I was numb to the noises that came with the human trade, standing guard outside the room, waiting for it to end.

Sometimes, the women lived to fight another day. Others didn’t make it more than a couple of hours. It was all up to my mentor and the mood he was in. However, thinking back, the girls who fought the most were the ones who survived the longest. He liked the battle, and I’m certain, after the display Josslyn gave at the auction, she is the perfect match for Stravinsky.

We stashed ourselves in a plane’s cargo hold again and then waited for the two-day trip to end, this time with the young girl we rescued—Tatiana. Once we landed, we managed to get out of the plane undetected. When we arrived at Cubby’s apartment in Moscow, he found appropriate clothes for the young girl. After she ate, I gave her some money and put her on a train to Saint Petersburg. I hope she recovers from her ordeal. I wish her luck and hope her future will be a happy one. She’s young, and if she’s strong, Tatiana will be able to bounce back. Only time will tell, though.

Apparently, Cubby managed to keep his original apartment when he was excommunicated from the
thieves
. It’s nothing special, located in the roughest parts of the city, but it works.

Cubby is many things, and connected is definitely one of them. I had concern for the car I left outside the airstrip in Grozny. It had my briefcase, suitcase of money, and garment bag in it. I mentioned this while we were passing the time, and Cubby reached out to his friend in Grozny who has a tow truck. Two hours after the phone call, the car was in the process of being towed to Moscow, and when we arrived at Cubby’s apartment, it was parked out front. The contact waited for us to arrive, and I made sure to pay him handsomely for his troubles before hauling my possessions inside with me.

Cubby walks into the room, chugging down a glass of water. He’s dressed exactly like me: full-on military clothing. Guns are strapped to his sides, throwing knives tucked in the outer pockets of his pants along with a grenade. It’s excessive but necessary if we need to get out fast.

“So, I’ve been monitoring the GPS tracking device; Stravinsky’s buyer has been located an hour northwest out of the city for at least a day.” He puts the glass down on the table amongst the guns, bullets, and clips. “We should start there.”

“I’ve got someone I can put on this.” I pull my phone out and contact the only person who can tap in digitally in a matter of seconds.

The phone rings once, Her sweet-yet-wicked voice emerges through on the other end.

“Hello, Mr. Black. I feel quite special to have been able to speak to you so much over the past month.” Aya giggles loudly like a teenage girl.

I pull the phone away from my ear until the noise tapers off. Cubby scrunches his brow, clearly thinking the same thing I am.

“How can I help you today?”

“I need you to run GPS coordinates and see if you can take a look around with one of those many satellites you can hack.”

“Sure, doll. Payment will be minimal, considering all the business you’ve been sending my way lately. Five thousand American dollars will suffice. Now, what are those coordinates?”

I take the device from Cubby and locate the numbers on the screen. As I read them off verbatim, Aya repeats them after every character. I can hear her fingers tapping on the keyboard, and after a minute or two, she finds the information.

“Looks like a large compound of some sort. There’s a ten-foot-high brick wall with razor wire wrapped around the top.”

Cubby and I share glances, knowing this has to be Stravinsky’s lair. Every compound he’s owned, he’s put razor wire around the perimeter.

“Let me zoom in closer.” She pauses for a moment. “Okay, there are several men walking the complex inside the walls. They are carrying AK-47s.”

“How many would you say you’re seeing?” I ask.

“It’s hard to fully see inside the walls, but my guess is no less than ten; that’s what I’m counting, anyway.” Aya clicks her mouse, and you can almost hear the concentration on the other end. “There’s a crack between the curtains on the main level. I … I think I can see a man. Give me a second.” The next thing I hear is rapid clicking. I imagine her zooming in on the computer. “Okay, I’ve sent you a picture text of the person inside. It’s sealed up pretty tightly, but hopefully, this helps.”

“Thank you, Miss Nakamura. As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” I keep the charm thick and her happy as I end the phone call.

My cell phone buzzes, and the picture of a henchman appears. Cubby pulls the phone to his face, and I can see his teeth clench in a sudden rush of anger.

“That’s Alex. He was a peon when we were in the
thieves
, but when they attacked me in Grozny, that asshole was leading the charge.”

Cubby’s face gets red with fury, and I wonder again what happened to him, why the
thieves
would attack him when he managed to break free of their hold. However, that is a question for another day.

I walk to the bathroom while Cubby defuses his anger in private. Once I’m finished, I pull the syringes from the side hip pocket and hold them in my hand. When I ordered them, I had one person in mind—Vlad. But Josslyn took him out in the restaurant, and now there they are.

Stravinsky is all too aware of what is held in them. Once contains etorphine, the drug they most likely gave Josslyn when she was transported from Bangladesh to keep her calm and quiet. It will knock a person out for several hours and doesn’t have any lasting side effects once it’s out of your system.

The plastic tube that gets my attention has a small red strip around the top. It’s filled with liquid cyanide. This needle was the one intended for Vlad. It only weighs a few ounces, but for some reason, I feel like it’s heavier than a concrete brick. There is a pounding in my gut that tells me this deadly concoction will get its use tonight, but on whom, I don’t know.

.*.*.*.

August 25, 2016 10:53 p.m.

We arrived thirty minutes ago on account of my heavy foot and fast car. I parked several kilometers down, tucking my black Jaguar within the recesses of the trees.

Cubby pulls his .308 sniper rifle from the truck and checks the suppressor, making sure it’s secured to the barrel while I get myself in the assassin mode.

Even though it’s been a couple weeks since we stormed Vlad’s restaurant, I don’t feel like I have been my normal self. I have had more of a margin for error bringing Josslyn along. It was the plan from the moment I held her captive, but as each day goes by, I care more about her well being more than my training would normally allow me to. I’m a cold, hard assassin, a mindless killing machine, a clog in the underworld, yet over the past ten days, I have felt like anything but.

I have had to protect someone versus take them out. I have had to explain my actions and myself more than I ever have. Mostly, I have had to rely on more than just my wits and experience to get me closer to seeing this mission through. I needed the help of Cubby. I depended on Aya for her technical skills, Erik Vankin to get me closer to Victor Zarketski and able to escape prison, Manny for his contact with Josslyn, and yes, Josslyn herself.

There is no way this job would have ever been done to the level it has been without her. She fired her way out of hotels, put her life on the line to help me infiltrate the known enemy’s lair, and tonight, she will be fulfilling her final job when I storm the forts and kill Stravinsky.

Tonight, we will seek out and destroy my mentor. I will watch the life drain from his throat as he gurgles on his own blood. Josslyn will be able to confront the killer of her father and seek justice the only way a man like Stravinsky deserves—dying a slow, agonizing death.

I turn the corner from the trunk and look at Cubby as he secures an earpiece inside his ear, and I do the same. We quietly test the devices to ensure they are working properly and then move through the woods. We don’t know exactly where the guards will be or if it’s even possible to start picking them off from outside the compound. Nevertheless, we will observe as much as we can before moving in.

I step through the damp terrain, my black combat books getting covered in grit and mud. We weave through the forest, keeping the compound within our sights, remaining hidden.

Cubby halts, and I freeze. He points to a car coming down the road, the headlights beaming, just peeking over the crest of the hill.

We step farther back into the forest, reassuring we are hidden from prying eyes, yet our visual is clear.

The gentle purr of the Mercedes slows nearly to a stop as it pulls into the drive and up to the gate. It only takes a few seconds for the gate to retract, and my gut tells me Stravinsky is in that car. No one ever in my career underneath him has ever gotten into his compound without a thorough discussion from the guards.

Cubby looks over at me with the same expression on his face. We are in agreement; that was Stravinsky. I am finally at the point of no return. I’m here. My mecca. It will be a slaughterer.

As the gate moves to a close, Cubby whispers, “Looks like our best bet will be through the gate. We can’t scale the wall; it’s too high. We can get over the gate.”

I nod, and then we both move forward, walking from the tree-lined road and stepping completely out of cover. The gravel crunches under my boots as we move stealthily.

Cubby and I run side by side until our backs are against the three-meter high stone wall. He pulls his sniper out and leans slightly away from the concrete, his finger on the trigger. He sets his scope, and with a muffled pop the first man is down.

Another guard passes in front of the gate and is checking on the one who was shot when Cubby aims and fires again. Number two is down.

I pull myself away from the safety of the wall and inch closer to the gate, keeping my back near the wall. Moving forward, I turn the corner and finally end up under the security station.

There is a slight buzzing sound over my head. I tip my head up to see the security camera moving, looking for whatever happened to the guards on the ground.

Pushing off the wall, I pull my frame forward and twist at the hips. I take aim with my nine-millimeter and shoot the plastic. Smoke billows from the sides. It’s rendered useless.

“You go. I’ll cover you,” Cubby says as he runs to my side.

We both move toward the gate. Cubby kneels beside me, giving me a hoist. I latch on to the wrought iron fence, swiftly pulling myself up and planting my feet on the steel beam across the gate.

I don’t bother looking when I hear Cubby picking off the men walking around the front of the grounds, clearing the way for me. Their deaths were already a forgone conclusion. I lift my right leg over the top of the gate then find my footing and jump down.

I motion for Cubby to wait, and he moves in next to the wall along the security house. The night is black, and if we are seen on the grounds, the floodlights will come on, making our cover impossible.

I walk into the security booth where the man who is supposed to be observing is too enthralled with porn on his phone to notice my presence. I smile, knowing how easy this will be.

I pull my knife from my side and exhale with happiness when I reconnect with the weight of it. I take one step forward and run the sharp edge across his neck. His skin slices easily, like a hot knife through butter.

There are a lot of buttons and gadgets in this room below the wall of screens. Finding the button, I push it and the front gate opens, letting Cubby inside. Then I pull up the security cameras and get a good look at the grounds. The security screens flip every few seconds, and as I start timing them, Cubby walks through the door.

“Here.” He moves to the control panel, his intellect kicking in as he looks over the board. Cubby punches a few keys, and the next thing I see is blackness over the screens.

“What did you do?” I ask as the man with his neck sliced gurgles in the background. It’s very distracting. “Fuck!” I whisper-shout to no one and walk back to the man. I jerk his neck to the side, ending his misery and eliminating that annoying noise.