Chapter 6Vasily #2
Well, that’s how we started. But those guns don’t last long, and the machined parts, the eighty percent of the gun that isn’t actually a gun because it’s missing this one thing and the two holes needed to attach it, cost a shit ton of money.
So now we make our own. We sell them for the same price that those mail-order kits go for, but ours are every bit as durable as a Glock.
The only problem, the one we’re dealing with now, is that to make them that durable, we needed to up the game on those lower registers— sold separately through a completely different company— and that’s required better 3D printers than the ones available online.
That’s how Benedetti strolled into my life.
“So we can shift all operations here, then?”
Kostya and Slug both turn on me, Kostya disappointed but Slug simply confused. “You mean... all operations of the Ghostest Ghost?”
Kostya side-eyes him. “Don’t call it that.”
I will never approve that name for the nearly invisible gun, undetectable under clothes and in TSA scanners, but I’ve secretly also started calling it the Ghostest Ghost.
Slug tries again. “All operations of the XQ19 semi-automatic?”
“No, I mean all operations. All operations. Shut down Flagstaff.”
“Vasily, I don’t think that would be wise,” Kostya says cautiously, like I’m being irrational .
I’m not being irrational. I’m just not a fan of coincidences, and the fact that Flagstaff is falling at the same time the best and worst part of Flagstaff has returned to me? And the only person who can explain why she’s here has vanished?
I held Ana yesterday. I got cozy with her. I dodged the questions she attempted to ask me by promising we’d talk later, after I got some sleep.
I don’t even know what we put on the TV, but I think she assumed it was a show we’d been watching together because she put all her attention on it as she slowly inched her way across the sofa to lean against me.
I fell asleep on the sofa with her, and damn if I didn’t wake up after the sun went down, the TV on a whole different show and Ana embedded under my arm, snug as a bug in a rug. And I actually smiled and felt good and was proud of myself for carrying her to her bed before getting in my own.
“Why not?” I ask Kostya, staring him hard in the eyes so he knows I’m asking a serious question.
Kostya is like a more subtle version of me.
Not as tall or as bulky, his hair and skin not quite so pale, his eyes blue but not nearly so intense.
It’s how he likes it; he doesn’t stand out.
The only thing striking about him is the scar on his neck, one of the few injuries sustained the night of my brother’s death, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked.
I swore he was going to die getting his throat slit like that, but then it only required a couple butterflies.
Beneath the scar, his Adam’s apple slides down and back up slowly. I’ve known him my entire life, emigrated from Russia with him, mourned his dad’s death as he mourned my dad’s six years later and my brother’s another six years after that. I know he’s not scared of me, but he hesitates .
“We can’t have everything else in the same place as the XQ19. It’ll be too easy for the ATF to catch wind of it. You were the one who pointed that out.”
“We’ll buy a warehouse in Burbank.”
“We need to spread out more.”
“Nevada. Nevada’s easy.”
“You’re being ridiculous! We are already set up in Flagstaff. We own Flagstaff. It is our home. We’re not going to let it fall just because you have this crazy thing—”
“I’m not crazy!” I snarl before I think better of it and bring my tone back down, not bothering to even see which pill I pop to level myself back out.
Slug clears his throat far more timidly than anything Kostya’s done to interrupt.
He’s only been with me for two years, snagged from an inner-city gang he was way too smart for, but he’s only ever been honest with me.
Loyal. I’ve given him a life he couldn’t have dreamed of.
“Boss lady’s doing a mil in upgrades to Flagstaff. ”
Boss lady. Benedetti. I consider her loyal too, despite being ATF, but she did just talk me into installing these extra printers in Flagstaff.
I didn’t think anything of it. Flagstaff is the same as anywhere else in my territory.
I avoid it, but I avoid most places. I told myself Flagstaff was nothing special, even if my skin did crawl every time it was mentioned.
Hell, I approved the expansion because it was Flagstaff.
But why was it Flagstaff? We shouldn’t have everything in Santa Clarita, but we have a place in Riverside. One in Henderson, just south of Vegas, too. Why has Benedetti been pushing Flagstaff on me?
I’m not in the mood for insubordination, not today of all days. “Suspend operations in Flagstaff,” I announce to no one in particular. Kostya and Slug, the other print guys here; they’re the most relevant people, anyway. “Fuck Flagstaff, we don’t need it anymore.”
I head to the back door, where Kostya parked today instead of out front like usual. If he follows, great. If he doesn’t, I have a key fob in my pocket and will drive my own ass home. I’m the pakhan here. What I say—
The front windows explode.
Time goes elastic. It feels like the windows are still shattering as Kostya’s body slams into mine. He’s smaller, but he has momentum on his side. He knocks me down, covering me, protecting me.
Familiar pops fade in and back out, knocking the wind out of me as I relive every fucking second of Artyom’s death in the parking lot of a strip club in Flagstaff. But I was on top of him as he bled out beneath me, and we died together. His death was mine.
I swear I feel blood leaking out of my back to pool around me. I swear I hear it in my breath as it fills my lungs, taste it on the back of my tongue.
I can’t breathe.
I’m dying.
I’m—
A whoosh, and a wave of heat wicks across my face as the others start screaming, popping up from wherever they took cover and running out the back door or rushing to the fire extinguishers.
This is my death. Not shot; burned alive. This is it. This is my Flagstaff.
I’m yanked up like a rag doll, an uncharacteristic show of strength from Kostya as he manages to get me on my knees and shove me toward the exit.
“Stay down!” he shouts at me as though I was ever getting up, but I can barely get myself to move .
This is how I die.
What will happen to Ana? Will Kostya see to her safety?
He grabs me by the shoulders and forces me to meet his eyes. “Vasily,” he says with a rough shake. “Get out of your head and get out of the building. Go!”
Get out of your head.
Fuck, this is the other reason I don’t leave the building anymore. My shrink says it’s an unhealthy coping mechanism and there’s no shame in PTSD; it’s just got to be addressed before it consumes me. But I am consumed.
Another shove has me moving. I go past the door, though, to the first available fire extinguisher.
“We gotta get this out!” I yell at Kostya, finally processing everything for what it is.
A drive-by. Shots were fired, but they’re long past, and thankfully, there was only the handful of us in the back.
If anyone was hit, they’re not showing it.
Molotov cocktails are causing the most damage. Offensive, really. It’s like taking a gun out of my hand just to turn it on me. And nothing about the 3D printers is flammable, but that’s not the only shit here. Fabric, paper, an entire wall of caustic chemicals. This is bad.
Slug swears and pivots his fire extinguisher when a new fire catches closer to us. “The files are there!” he yells, gesturing to a laptop on the other side of the stream of fire slithering across the concrete floor. “The XQ19 files!”
It’s still a prototype. It’s too valuable to leak. For now, the file should only exist on that laptop and on the removable drive currently docked in it, mid-update.
Before I can grab another extinguisher, there’s a whoosh, something else igniting, sending Slug flying back toward us. He’s singed and coughing, but I think he’ll be okay .
Flaming chunks of ceiling rain down on us.
This is bad.
Kostya has a rag to his face to breathe through the smoke rushing toward the open door. “It’s too late,” he shouts.
Instincts have me fighting that, as much out of principle as out of fear. If I let this shop go, it’s going to be a major financial blow. But what’s really in my head is how it’s another road block pushing me back to Flagstaff.
I hoist Slug over my shoulder and hustle out of the shop.