49
Smoking kills
Andrey
I f there was one thing I didn't expect to find when I snuck into Yuri's house for the second time, it was the golden goose that could save my boss from the chopping block. Irene was fucking Yuri, and that meant I had found the mole, or rather, the whore mole.
I had spent an entire day inside the house.
After Yuri sent his man away from me the previous day, I had thirty minutes to quickly scout the upper floor and place the micro-cameras I had camouflaged among the tools of the ENDESA guy. I wanted to ensure that everything happening on the upper floor would be recorded so that the Capulets would believe us when we presented the visual evidence.
I couldn't bug the entire house, so I left the lower floor for when I would sneak in at night, when the place was silent. Especially the office, the living room, and the kitchen, which were the most likely places for important conversations to take place.
I discovered that one of the rooms on the second floor was a kind of storage room filled with furniture and dust. It didn't look like a very frequented place, quite the opposite. Moreover, in the ceiling, there was a skylight that I could easily slip through by climbing the facade and lowering myself onto the table below.
I left it slightly ajar so it wouldn't be difficult to open it hours later. Just enough, barely noticeable. I was satisfied when I climbed down from the table, dusted off my pants, and grabbed the toolbox. I had left this room for last.
As I stepped out of the storage room, I ran straight into Kulkov, who raised his eyebrows at me.
"What were you doing in there?" he asked sharply.
"Doing my job, I found the source of the problem."
"In the storage room?" I nodded. "Show me."
I gritted my teeth; I didn't want to go back in there with this guy. He gave me a bad feeling, and there was also the matter of the skylight. If he noticed, I'd be in trouble.
Once inside, I led him to a junction box in the corner, which I had dampened with an empty gel bottle that I filled with water in one of the bathrooms. I pointed to the spot. The Russian felt around.
"Careful, you might get electrocuted," I warned. He pulled his hand out of the box and looked at me.
"It is wet."
"I told you, water and electricity don't mix well."
He wiped his fingers on his pants to dry them.
"It's strange, it's rained before and nothing happened," he said, not taking his eyes off mine.
"Water always finds a way. It could be an accumulation, a small crack, condensation..." We stared each other down, then I remembered that an electrician would be scared and wouldn't hold his gaze against a mercenary holding an AK-47. I looked down. "If you'll excuse me, I'll prepare the work order for you to sign and get out of your way. I've got a lot of urgent calls this morning, and my boss just called to hurry me up."
I tried to pass by him, but he didn't let me.
"What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't."
I had memorized the name on the ID card just in case; the problem was it didn't sound very Ukrainian. The door burst open, and another of Yuri's men interrupted us. Air flowed back into my lungs.
The newcomer hurried my interrogator because Yuri had given them a task.
Kulkov didn't seem pleased with the interruption but followed the order. I didn't think twice and quickly left. I filled out the work order as best as I could and handed it to the housemaid, who smiled gratefully for getting the lights back on.
I got into the electrician's Citro?n Compact, and as I was about to start it, Kulkov banged on the window, startling me. I thought about hitting the gas and speeding away. Something told me that wasn't a good idea. I rolled down the window.
"Your ID," the Russian said, waving it between his fingers. "You must have dropped it at some point."
I was sure that hadn't happened. I had placed it in the back pocket of my pants. If I were in his shoes, I would have discreetly taken it to call the electrician's company and verify if I was an intruder.
"A very Spanish name for a Ukrainian," he said, holding the card just out of my reach.
There it was. Something about me didn't add up, and I had to give a believable version or his gun would be the end of me.
"I never said my parents were Ukrainian, just that we lived near Chernobyl. My parents were descendants of Spanish emigrants exiled due to the Civil War."
He smiled.
"And you decided to return to your origins?"
"I've spent seasons here and seasons there." It was better not to specify. Luckily, I had a keen interest in global military conflicts, because otherwise, I might have been in serious trouble right now.
"If the lights go out again, we'll call you. You've done a good job, and we like working with trustworthy people." Finally, he placed the card in my fingers. "Until next time, Zacarías Flores del Campo." I remained impassive upon hearing the name of the gypsy-like guy I had tied up and half-naked in the back of the vehicle. Luckily, they had chosen the model without rear windows.
I gave him a half-smile and drove away before Kulkov could decide to snoop around more and end up with his feet up.
I arrived at a vacant lot on the outskirts of the neighborhood, far enough away not to be seen. I grabbed a one-and-a-half-liter bottle of water from the passenger seat and emptied it over the electrician's head.
He woke up spitting water and begging not to be killed, saying he had a wife and four daughters and was on probation thanks to a reintegration program.
Jail. Great, that played in my favor.
"Let's make a deal, Zacarías. I don't talk, you don't talk." I had taken out his wallet with his ID and the family photo showing his wife and four girls who looked about ten to fifteen or sixteen years old. The man’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "In that house you were about to enter, there were some very nasty people, members of the Russian mafia who kidnap girls as pretty as yours to turn them into prostitutes." His dark face turned white. I knew how to hit where it hurt. Pedophilia didn't sit well in prison. "I'm trying to get rid of that scum, so if you keep quiet, all the bad things that could have happened to your girls will happen to them instead, I'll take care of it." I looked at him steadily without flinching. "But if you snitch, or tell anyone what happened, I won't hesitate to send them this photo along with a note with your complete address to make their job easier before finishing them off."
"I swear by my almighty Jesus Cautivo that I won't snitch on those scumbags. I swear on my dead, if I could, I'd come with some buddies from the joint to impale them one by one." I didn't want to get the man in trouble; I just needed his silence.
"Do I have your word?"
"You do." I nodded, completely untying him.
Zacarías ended up accompanying me to a hardware store, where I got the necessary materials. I also bought food, water, and returned to the neighborhood in a taxi that dropped me off on one of the parallel streets.
I waited until nightfall to sneak into the house. I managed to climb the wall, move through the garden silently, and climb up the back to sneak in through the skylight.
The house was quiet. A couple of men were awake. I had seen them smoking a cigarette in the front yard.
I took the opportunity to place the remaining cameras and thought I was going to be discovered when the front door opened, and I was in the living room.
Fortunately, that pair was more focused on recounting their last lay than on discovering an intruder.
Once there, I hid behind a gigantic diesel tank ready to spend the night without incident.
The next day, I didn't gather much interesting information. Yuri spent most of the day out, and the men who stayed in the house spent their time playing cards and checking the property.
Things changed when night fell, and I saw Irene herself at the door.
What I didn't expect was to find out that Aleksa was in the hospital and that they were going to kill him that very night.
I cursed and didn't even worry about running into Kulkov. The surprise in his eyes lasted a second, the same one I needed to hit him with all my strength in the temple.
When I was in the army, they taught us that this was the thinnest part of the skull. A precise blow, delivered with enough force, could cause internal bleeding or something much worse. In the case of the Russian, he had encountered the second option; he had just found death in my knuckles.
The crunch was intense, and his body fell with a thud. Yuri's room door remained closed, so he hadn't heard anything; he would find out later when I was no longer in the house.
I knew there was at least one man patrolling the property exterior.
I opened the door silently and peeked through while attaching the silencer to my gun's barrel; it would be the quickest way.
Yuri's man was leaning against one of the trees, lighting a cigarette. I aimed, and the bullet pierced his forehead.
Doctors were right, smoking does kill you.
I ran and climbed over the access wall, not caring about the height separating me from the ground.
All I could think about was saving Aleksa's life; I couldn't lose him.