Rocket’s Red Glare

CHAPTER 95

He would miss American tobacco. The price I pay, he smiled to himself.

With his free hand, he withdrew a clamshell phone and dialed the number. The phone connected on the first ring. He punched in the five-digit code.

One-tenth of a second later, a fireball ignited from Natasha’s medical kit in the cargo hold of the moving truck.

He couldn’t see the Egorov brothers, but he was certain they’d been instantly incinerated, along with their millions of dollars’ worth of cash and works of art.

Too bad.