Chapter Thirty-Nine
In which there is desperation, darkness, and death. Also, concrete.
Dmitri…
There's a blare of horns as Demid shoots through a red light.
"Luka. It was Luka," Matvey says. "Someone in Grand's orbit turned him. I don't know when, but he took the opportunity."
"He was one of our most trusted lieutenants." I stare at the pulsing red dot on my screen.
"Two other men moved in, they shot Rurik in the chest. Your mother had to be held down by her guards until they made sure it was safe to bring him in. She's working on him now, he's in critical condition."
I have to be sure Ava didn't choose this.
"Demid…" I close my eyes. "Was her bye-bye briefcase still in the closet?"
"Yes sir," he said. "She didn't get into the car with it."
Of course I've known about the bye-bye briefcase.
The guest room is wired. I played back every word of their conversation, more than once.
I had Matvey check every time they took her out, and the contents of the briefcase were undisturbed.
The fact that she had it and chose not to use it had stupidly given me so much hope.
The Aston Martin goes up on two wheels as Demid takes another corner.
"Where are you now, sir?"
"There's a tracker in her wedding ring." My eyes don't leave the screen. "It's been stationary since I pulled it up, so they have to be holding her there." I pull up the address. "It's one of Grand's office buildings." I send him the address, copying Roman and Alexsey on the text.
"Pull together everyone you have as quickly as you can," I say. "Notify my father."
"On it," he says, hanging up.
My phone buzzes instantly and it's Roman. "I heard," he says. "Does she have the tracker in her wedding ring?"
"Yes," I say, "it's operational."
"Thank fuck," he says. "Alexsey is here, Uncle Yuri is sending Nikandr and Andrey.
We can meet you there within twenty minutes.
If we can get her out safely first, I have a long-range missile I've really been looking forward to trying out.
We could tie him to a chair in front of his big office window, so he can watch it come right at the building. " He sounds dreamy, almost orgasmic.
"He's going to move her," I say impatiently. "We have to get there before that happens."
"Brother, you will get her back," he says. "You'll have plenty of time to make up for being an asshole after that."
"Fuck, Roman…" I close my eyes.
"Ah, ah! You'd kick my ass if I tried to feel sorry for myself like this," he says crisply. "You'd tell me to stay focused, don't let my emotions interfere with my judgement."
"Yeah," I hear Alexsey in the background. "That sounds exactly like something Dmitri would say."
"Just get there." I stare at the red dot on the screen.
Three of our cars converge on the office building at the same time. The parking lot is empty, the security lights buzzing fretfully. I check my phone. The tracker hasn't moved.
Putting in my earpiece, I ask, "Is there any sign of movement inside?"
"I'm the roof of the building to the south," my cousin Nikandr says. "I'm sweeping the building through my sniper scope. There's nothing. I'm not even seeing a night watchman."
"That makes sense. He wouldn't want anyone there. We're going to have to risk it," I say, pulling my gun. "Roman, your team goes through the back, I'll go through the front. She's on the ground floor in the northeast corner."
Glass shatters as I shoot the lock on the front doors, echoing through the parking lot, and I ignore the teeth-rattling blare of the burglar alarm as I race down the hall.
The corridor seems to stretch endlessly, like the hallway at The McManus as Ava raced toward me.
The polished doors of the conference room are locked and I kick them open, rushing in and nearly hitting the table.
Her ring is sitting in the center of the table, some silver-blonde strands of hair caught in the back of one of the office chairs. I stumble back against the wall, my gun dropping.
"Kolya, do you have the traffic cameras pulled up yet?" Roman bursts through the door, listening to his earpiece. "He's combing through them now."
I try to force my muddy thoughts to clear. "How close could they be to an airstrip or a dock?"
What's the quickest way that they could smuggle Ava away from me? Or would he kill her now?
"We've got something," Roman says. "Kolya spotted two Lincoln Continentals heading away from the office building."
"That's got to be Will. He loves those giant fuckers. What direction are they heading?" I ask.
Roman listens for a moment as we race for the front door. "Kolya picked up the cars, crossing the George Washington Bridge. We can catch up if we take the Lincoln Tunnel."
I know my competitor's build sites almost as well as my own, so when Kolya pinpoints Will's direction, I know where he's headed. "It's a new warehouse complex, they're just digging the foundations now."
An icy hand grips my heart, squeezing it. We're not the only ones who know how to bury bodies in the footings of our buildings. Roman squeezes my arm. "Let's just get there."
It's dark out tonight, only the haze of the ever-present streetlights to guide us as we park, creeping up on the site. Andrey cuts through the wire fencing, pulling it open enough for everyone to slide through. Ten of us.
I can hear the rumbling of a concrete mixer as we race through the site.
There are no construction lights burning, just a weak, yellowish one on the mixer itself.
It's massive, designed to pour thousands of yards of concrete, filling up a fifteen-foot-deep foundation in minutes.
There's barely enough light to see Will and that motherfucker Smith, who's holding one of Ava's arms viciously behind her back.
I can see the grimace of pain on her face, but she's still standing straight.
"Dmitri," Alexsey whispers into the headset. "There's fifteen guards between us and them."
Demid hands me a pair of night vision scopes. I pull it over my head, hissing between my teeth. He's right. Whether or not Will is expecting us, he's making goddamn sure she's not getting out of here.
"We have to bring them down quietly," I whisper. "Do you all understand? If they alert Smith, he'll throw her into the hole now."
I've been around enough construction sites now to know just by the sound of the mixer how close the concrete is to be ready to pour. We don't have long.
Pulling my knife from my ankle holster, I close in on the guard nearest to me, my hand slams over his mouth as I drive my knife into his kidney, twisting viciously.
He stiffens and drops in seconds. My hearing is painfully attuned to the sound of the mixer, praying that it's loud enough to conceal the desperate struggle and the sound of bodies collapsing in the dirt.
I jump on the next guard, a big fucker, and he turns just in time to see me coming.
He swings his arm, landing me on my back.
I get my knife into his neck before he can pull his gun, but he's holding on, choking me, driving his knee up into my stomach.
My grip doesn't loosen, twisting the knife as I watch blood bubble from his lips.
He opens his mouth, and I slam my hand over it, one shout would be enough.
He bites savagely into my hand- why won't this fucker just die?
The night is still unnaturally quiet. Only the sounds of the mixer and Will's fucking voice droning on. I can stand it because this time, it means Ava is still alive.
Keep talking, motherfucker.
My heart thuds painfully in my chest as there's a short yelp from the opposite end of the site and I close my eyes, hand still clamped on the man's mouth, finally dead, slumped on top of me.
Smith looks up sharply, holding up his hand. He sends a man over to the area to check.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Something must have alerted another guard, who heads in my direction.
I've got enough time to roll away and move behind him, twisting his neck, and dropping him.
I see the guard they sent up to the other side step back near the edge, waving his hand in an "all clear" signal.
What they don't see is his body yanked back and Alexsey finishing him off.
"Is there anyone left?" I whisper urgently.
I wait painful seconds as four different voices quietly whisper, "clear," and I'm racing for the pit.
Smith probably has a gun, Will won't. Despite pretending he's a Texan, I know he's afraid of them.
"Almost time, darlin’," Will says cheerfully, rocking back-and-forth on his heeled boots. "I'm looking forward to getting a nice clear shot of your face when the concrete starts pouring down on your head. Make sure you look up at me, okay?"
"Fuck you," she chokes out. "Dmitri is going to cut you to pieces for this."
"Now don't be a spoilsport," he chides her. "Morozov isn't finding you. I left your cute little wedding ring on the conference table. You think I wouldn't know he has a tracker in that?" He chuckles, clearly pleased with himself.
There's a slow roar from the mixer as it slows and stops. Will struts over, pushing the concrete chute toward the hole. Ava sways for a moment, leaning closer to him. "Will?"
"Yeah, darling?" He sounds genuinely happy.
Ava throws up.
Not a delicate, lady-like wretch, but a geyser of vomit, splattering his chest and his face as he croaks in horror, flailing away.
Smith's grip must loosen because Ava spins on him, still hacking and vomiting, shoving him as hard as she can toward the hole.
He stumbles back. One more step and the cadaverous son of a bitch will fall, but he reaches out, catching himself on the rebar.
She's scrambling backward as Will curses, scrubbing at his face in disgust.
I charge toward them, steps away from Ava as Smith lunges for her. As I shoot him in the chest, he flies backward, falling into the hole with an almost comical look of surprise on his face as I grab her up by the waist.
"I'm sorry," she sobs, smearing vomit on my shirt. "I'm so sorry, Dmitri. I love you. I should have said it sooner."
"I love you, Magpie." I'm staring at Will, my hand shaking with the need to rip him apart. "It's not your fault." I kiss the top of her head as Roman steps up, checking the hole of the foundation.
"Smith is still moving around down there like a slug," he says. "I think his legs are broken."
"There's no way this pans out in your favor, son," Will says, his voice shaking. "In the end, we're businessmen. We can come to an agreement. You know they'll be looking at you first thing if anything happens to me."
"Step over to the hole, Will," I say.
His head jerks in that direction and back at me, eyes wide and horrified. "What now? Hey," he stutters, "that's not gonna happen. I have dirt on you." He waves his hands. "I have dirt on everybody! Everybody! Nobody's clean."
"Roman."
"I'm here," he steps next to me, patting Ava's shoulder.
"Can you take care of this? I need to take Ava away."
"Of course." Roman walks closer to Will, his hand shooting out and wrapping around his neck.
"Oh, and Will?" He looks at me, his terrified, bulging eyes are so satisfying to watch. "I'm not your son."
Lifting Ava in my arms, I say, "Close your eyes now, Magpie. Cover your ears, go ahead." She does, her shaking hands flat against her ears and her eyes pinch tightly shut and I walk back to the car.
I may not be able to see it, but I know what's happening.
Will lands with a meaty thud into the hole, flailing, horrified, still trying to make a deal.
His fake as fuck Texas accent is gone, it's pure New Jersey again as he wails.
There's the first wet-sounding slop of concrete pouring into the hole and a high, shrill scream that's cut off, most likely from the concrete splattering across his face before burying him.