Chapter 28
Tristan
In my flat, I open a panel wall in my office and select a Glock, load it, and select a knife. My skin lights with energy as I dial Penny.
“Thanks for the address.”
“No problem, dear. Nigel asked if you need back-up?”
My instinct roars that there’s no time. They’ve had her for five hours. “Any striking details on the business?”
“On the outset, it’s a legitimate business.”
She and I both know that means nothing.
“Hasn’t been flagged. I sent you a diagram of the floor plan registered with the city.”
“Anything on the driver?”
“The name is Tobias Müller. Dual EU and Swiss citizenship. Traveled to Russia five times in the past three years.”
“For business or pleasure?”
“Listed as pleasure. It’s possible he has family there.”
“Is he Russian?”
“Possibly, if you go far enough back. Born in Switzerland.”
I sheathe the knife and check my profile in the reflection of a window. Someone glancing at me shouldn’t be able to tell I’m armed. “Well, he’s working for someone. Seems we should find out who, yes?”
“Yes, dear. Back-up?”
“No. But perhaps be on the ready to reach out to local law enforcement?”
“We have a contact. I’ll prepare him.”
“Say nothing that sends them to the door. I want time with Tobias.”
In the garage, I pop the trunk on my Aston Martin. In the trunk, I add Kevlar wire, handcuffs, zip ties, protective gloves, a battering ram, bolt cutters, a lock pick set, flashbangs, and smoke grenades.
Five minutes later, I’m conducting a brief surveillance, looping around the city streets of my destination, both getting a lay of the land and ensuring no one is following me.
My cover may blow sky high. But we’ll catch these fuckers, and it will be worth the sacrifice.
Every time we approach someone, they end up dead. And now Lucia has been taken. The situation is too similar to the American girl. There’s no way it’s not the same people.
Lucia must be confused and scared. They didn’t hurt the American girl. Sloane Watson specifically stated that the men holding her captive were instructed to not hurt her. Of course, we suspect that’s because her former lover took her. I doubt Lucia will have any such connection. And Salo claimed the original order had been to eliminate Sloane. Fear surges, and emotions I can’t categorize, but I push it all back. I need to be at the top of my game. Lucia’s life depends on it.
The entrance to the business doubles as the entrance to the parking garage. There’s a small office to the side of the garage on ramp and my guess is there are spots reserved for the automobiles used by the car service. I pull in, get a ticket as if I’m a parking customer, and drive through the garage slowly, scanning the cars and plates. There are no limousines, which means we either have the wrong business or they park them elsewhere.
I park in a spot near the exit in a reserved spot. It doesn’t matter that it’s reserved, because I don’t plan on being here long.
A bell rings when I push open the office door. There’s a desk, presumably to greet customers, but it’s empty. The space suffers from poor ventilation and lack of cleaning. The marred walls could use a fresh coat of paint. A small table with an ashtray and old papers is to my right.
Voices carry down the hall.
I scan behind the desk, as a precaution, then proceed toward the voices, hand resting on the rough plastic grip of my gun handle.
The conversation is in German. I listen, picking up enough to know they’re discussing a futbol game and it’s nothing worth listening to. They sound relaxed, like two buddies shooting the shit on break.
The door to the room they’re in is open, and I call out, “Hello. Is anyone here?”
One man cusses in German. The other chuckles.
When I appear in the doorway, neither man appears surprised. One is an older chap with thin hair, a pouch, and he’s wearing a flannel with worn slacks. No discernible weapon, and a posture and physique that says he doesn’t do more than sit at a desk. The other man is Tobias. He’s taken off his suit coat, and it hangs on the back of the chair. There’s no visible gun, but he’s fit. Penny didn’t mention a militia background, but he has that look.
“Didn’t hear the bell ring. You got a parking garage issue?” Mr. Flannel is up and out of his chair, back bent, heading toward the door.
Tobias responds in German with a smirk, “You wouldn’t hear the bell ring if you were sitting where you’re supposed to be.”
“Wait a few more years. Your hearing will be shot, too.”
“I’m here to speak with Mr. Muller.”
With the drop of a name, both men pay me more attention. I offer a cordial, calming smile. “A project I need to speak with you about. If you don’t mind, Tobias,” I say in English.
The two men exchange glances, and the older man shuffles down the hallway, apparently discerning I mean no harm. He couldn’t be further off the mark.
I shut the door behind me and pull out my gun.
A shit-eating grin spreads across the wanker’s face. In perfect English, he says, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re about, do you?”
“Oh, Tobias, I have quite a good grip on the situation. The questions is, do you?”
He pushes up from his chair and I tsk. “You don’t want to do that. Sit still and put your hands flat on the table.”
His amusement transforms into an annoyed glare. I circle him, see the gun tucked into his back, and grab it.
He shifts and I slam the side of his gun into his head. He flinches and I growl, “I told you to stay.” I hold the gun up, threatening to wallop him with it again. “Now put your hands flat on the table.”
He wisely obeys.
I discharge his weapon, set it aside, and pull out my blade.
“Who do you work for?”
“You’re in my place of work.”
“I’m not here to play games. Who hired you to pick up Lucia Oliveira this morning?”
He pushes the chair back and lunges.
With one swift kick, my foot lands hard on his chest, sending him and the chair clattering backwards.
“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
He comes at me again. I pivot, missing his fist, cock my fist into his jaw hard enough his head snaps back. I clock him to the left, then the right in his abdomen. He curls forward, and I loop an arm around his neck tight enough to squeeze, but not crush, his windpipe.
“Easy or hard?” I repeat.
If this guy has training, he’s lacking. He loses consciousness in my grip.
I set him down in the chair, pull out the Kevlar cord, and tie him to the chair at the waist and tie his ankles to the chair. I want his hands free.
He shouldn’t be out long, but because I don’t have time, I pick up a ceramic mug and toss whatever’s in it on him. He blinks and as he comes to, the chair shifts from his jerking as he tests out his legs and body.
“Who are you?” He grumbles.
Tsk . “I ask the questions. And I told you, hands flat on the table.”
Like a good soldier, he places his hands flat on the table. I pull out my knife.
“You’ve got ten fingers. That means you have ten chances. That’s a lot of chances, my friend.” I pull out my blade and his eyes widen in understanding.
“Now, this morning, you picked up Lucia Oliviera. Yes?”
“I don’t know nothing.”
What a fucking dimwit. The wickedly sharp blade slices off his pinky fingers with ease. He screams and blood shoots out in a spurt across the round table.
“Nine more to go.”
He lifts his hand and presses it into his chest.
Tsk. Tsk.
“Hands flat on the table. Trust me. There are other body parts I can remove, and wise men prefer the fingers.”
“Who the fuck are you?” A bead of sweat appears on his temple.
“I’m a gentleman you wish to please. You’re going to answer my questions if you want to walk out of this room. I don’t count toes. After the fingers, I go for legs.”
He screams loudly for his buddy.
“Do you seriously believe your friend can help you?”
He stops yelling. I assume it’s because it has occurred to him that his out-of-shape friend won’t be of any help, but he might have also just remembered his friend is hard of hearing.
“I’ll ask one more time. It’s a yes or no question and I already know the answer. I have video. So, I’d think twice before losing a finger over this one.” He glares and my rage simmers. “You picked up Lucia Oliviera this morning, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you bring her?”
“Here.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don’t know.” I shift and he stutters, “Seriously. I don’t know. I’m telling you the truth. We transferred her to another car. Another driver took her.”
“In the trunk?”
His gaze shifts from my face to my blade. He jerks his head in a nod. The light glimmers on the blade and he adds, “Yes, in a trunk. We drugged her. She was out of it. Only put her in the trunk so she wouldn’t be seen.”
“Who is we?”
He grimaces, lips pressed together. I step forward and press the blade down, taking his index finger and part of his middle finger.
“Oops. That looks like it cost you one and a half fingers.”
If looks could kill, I’d have a million bullet holes in me.
“You’ve got seven and a half fingers to go.”
“Who do you work for?” Beads of sweat shine on his forehead. The chair jerks as he jerks his legs, but they’re bound tight and the fuck’s not going anywhere.
“I work for myself. Who do you work for?”
I lift my blade, making my intention clear.
“Contract work. A simple job. Pick her up. Lock her in. Gas her. Switch cars.”
“It’s not the first time you’ve worked for them. Yes?”
He nods.
“Who are they?”
“Just an outfit. We take odd jobs.”
“How do they pay you?”
“Cash.”
“What kind of car did you put her in?”
“Audi. Black sedan.”
“Plates?”
“I don’t know.” Beads of sweat run from his temple to his jaw.
“Is it a service car?”
“You mean like from the garage? Yeah.”
“What’s the name of the driver?”
I shift with the blade and the door swings open. In a flash, I’ve got my gun in my right hand.
“What’s—” The older man’s eyes widen, and he steps back.
“Come join us.”
He backs away, looking like he’s going to run, and I pull the trigger, sending a bullet straight into his skull. Blood splatters on the wall behind him.
“The name?”
Tobias gives me everything I need.
Back in my car, I call Penny. “She left in a Black Audi sedan. Driver named Andrey Novokov.” I read her the plates. “She’s in the trunk. Sedated. Destination unknown.”
“I’ll put out a trace.”
“Clean ups needed.”
“Body count?”
“One. Plus one worker bee currently alive, but maimed.”
“It’s easier when they’re all dead.”
“Would you like for me?—”
“No, you beast. He’s restrained?”
“Yes.”
“Get out of there. Authorities are on their way.”
“Penny, the one alive is the one who abducted her and gassed her.”
“And you let him live?”
“He’s done jobs for these people before. He needs to be interrogated.”
“Understood.”