Chapter 31
31
Elise
P iotr finds a nice spot behind a commercial dumpster down a side alley to park the car. I pull my hood over my head as Kara and I get out and follow Dmitri to the bank. Piotr covers our backs, both of them keeping one hand on their discreetly holstered weapons.
My heart beats faster with every step that brings us closer to the main street. Reaching the bank’s front door without getting noticed will be our first challenge.
“I’ll go first,” Dmitri says. “I’ll scan the area and let you know if it’s safe.”
“Got it,” Kara says and nods in agreement.
We wait just around the corner. I hold my breath and watch Dmitri go ahead.
“Is there a special protocol to go through to get to your safety deposit box?” Kara asks me.
I nod once. “It’s nothing fancy. I just give the bank manager some information, answer a couple of security questions, then they give me the key. That should be it.”
“So, what, five minutes, tops?”
“Hopefully, yeah.”
A whistle draws our focus back to Dmitri. He’s at the top of the front steps, hands in his black coat pockets.
“Let’s go,” Kara whispers.
Piotr stays a couple of feet behind, constantly surveying both sides of the street. The adrenaline rush has me looking every which way, but unlike Piotr and Dmitri, I am nowhere near as seasoned with regards to Igor’s tactical maneuvers.
“Hi there,” a clerk says, coming over to greet us as we walk into the bank. “Welcome to Rustic Union. How can I help you today?” He’s young and friendly, in his early twenties, cleanshaven with big brown eyes.
“Hi. I’m Elise Morris. I have a safety deposit box here and I’d like to access it,” I reply with a warm smile. “I think I’m supposed to see the bank manager first.”
“Yes, indeed,” he says. “Give me a second, I’ll bring her right over. Have a form of ID ready in the meantime, please.”
“Sure,” I mumble and fish through my coat’s inner pockets until I locate my wallet.
“Hello, Miss Morris,” the bank manager says, offering to shake my hand as he approaches.
I take it and instantly regret it because it’s warm and clammy. “Hi. I’m here to access my safety deposit box.”
“Sure, right this way,” the manager says, carefully eyeing Kara.
She sticks to my side like glue while Dmitri and Piotr get in line, pretending they’re customers while they continuously scan the lobby and outside area. I’m nervous as hell and worried out of my mind. I just need to get to my safety deposit box.
“Will the lady be joining us?” the bank manager asks.
Kara nods at him. “I will be joining you, yes.”
“I see,” the manager replies and looks at me for guidance. “Can I see your ID, please?”
“Yes, of course,” I hand my driver’s license to him.
We stop by his desk, where Steve, the manager, hastily takes a seat behind his computer. He clicks away at the keyboard, then scans my ID onto a small black device, constantly stealing glances at Kara as if she’s not meant to be here.
“My sister,” I try to reassure him. “We’ve got some family documents in that box, and I need her to go through them with me.”
“I see,” he says, sounding like a robot.
Kara checks her phone, and I instantly notice the change in her expression—eyes widening, nostrils flaring, followed by a deep, measured breath.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“Papa’s in town, with Andrei and Michael.”
My blood runs cold. “Michael’s here? No. Terrible idea, we need to—”
“We need to get to that deposit box first. Mikey’s safe with them, Elise. You, on the other hand, are the closest thing to a sitting duck that I’ve ever seen.” She glances back at Piotr and Dmitri, still waiting in line. “There’s only so much they can do for us if my brother’s men charge into this bank.” She keeps her voice low to stay out of the manager’s earshot.
Once he’s done on the computer, Steve escorts us to the ground-level vault, leading us through a corridor with several turns before we reach the hot spot. It’s a square room with cold, fluorescent ceiling lights, safety deposit boxes mounted in all three walls, covering them from top to bottom.
In the middle sits a large ebony table.
He takes out a key and sticks it into the appropriate lock, then opens the latch and pulls out the safety deposit box. I stare at it as though it’s the Holy Grail, holding my breath until he leaves it on the table. “I presume you have your key,” he says.
“Yes, right here,” I reply and show it to him. I keep it on the same keychain as my house and car keys, all of them jingling in my hand as I reach for the box.
“I’ll give you ladies all the privacy you need,” he says. “Please, leave the box on the table when you’re finished and don’t forget to call me back in here when you’re done.”
“Thank you,” Kara replies.
She watches him like a hawk, and I’ve got a feeling it’s only when he’s gone that she is finally able to breathe. I stick the key in the box’s lock. “Here we go.”
“God, I hope this goes smoother than the first half of today. There’s only so much crap I can take with just one latte in my system,” she says.
I chuckle softly and open the box lid.
It’s all in there, just as I left it. A manila envelope with photos and documents taken from Igor’s safe back in Chicago, the ledger with its leatherbound cover, pages stained yellow by the passage of time.
“Got it,” I tell Kara. “We can go, now.”
We leave the box on the table as instructed and head out of the vault.
“Great. Let’s do that. The longer we stay here, the higher the chances we’ll—”
She bumps into someone on the way out to retrieve the manager. The blood freezes in my veins as I recognize him.
“Igor,” I gasp.
He stands in the doorway of the vault room and he’s not alone. Behind him, Piotr and a couple of other guys keep a lookout. On the floor, in a pool of blood, sits Dmitri.
Horror washes over me in an icy wave, and I can’t even scream.
“What the fuck?” Kara tries to get away from him, but I catch a glimpse of the silencer mounted on his gun just before he fires it.
“Kara!” I finally get my voice back.
She falls to the ground, red roses blooming all over her brown coat. I take a step back but it’s too late.
“Hey, honey,” Igor hisses, grinning like a demon. “Long time no see.”
His gun comes down. Hard.
He hits me over the head with just enough force to knock me off my feet. Burning pain shoots through me as I lean into the table, the ledger and manila envelope slipping from my hands.
I can’t hold on. I can’t stand.
Everything turns black.