CHAPTER NINETEEN
Never before had her head hurt as badly as it did in this moment. Holy shit! Opening one eye slowly, she felt her stomach roll over and wondered if she had forgotten the promise she’d made to herself about not drinking tequila. Why was she sitting in a van?
Closing her eye, she took quick stock of her body and knew instantly booze had nothing to do with her current state of affairs. Her hands were bound and so were her feet. Flipping back through her recent memories, she tried to come up with an explanation. When the distinct smell of angry male assaulted her, she flashed back to the pinch she’d felt in her neck and knew whoever had wanted her…had finally gotten her.
Panic rolled over her brain, momentarily causing it to sputter.
Breathe in and breathe out, she instructed herself silently. Losing it so early in the game wasn’t going to do her a bit of good. Feeling brave, she opened both eyes and was greeted with a view of Ivan the Terrible. “You!” she said quietly. The man who she’d spotted dozens of times sat next to her with an expression of resignation. “Ivan the Terrible in person,” she said.
“That’s racist,” he replied.
“It’s not racist if you share the same ethnicity. It’s merely an affectionate nickname.”
“You have no affection for me.”
“True. But I hate being called a racist. We’re both Russian, so we’re basically the same.”
“Nothing same about us. You’re one of those snotty intellectual Jews who thinks she’s better than everyone else. Even poor boy who lives next door. I knew girl like you when I was little and she never looked at me.”
“You just took a hard left and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t know what this ‘hard left’ means.”
Sitting up gingerly, she looked around and realized she was in a van with blacked-out windows. “You’ve been following me around for almost a month. Maybe we should introduce ourselves.”
“I know you, Stazi Ivanov. I know more about you than the last woman I slept with.”
Lifting her bound hands, she rubbed her head. “That might not be saying a lot.”
“True.”
“If my life is in your hands, I feel as though I should know your name.”
“Not my hands. The boss’s hands.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“Sergey Belikov.”
“Not Firtash?”
“No, he’s just Ukrainian oligarch. He has no power here. I’m part of the brotherhood and have respected position.”
“You’re a brigadier?”
“No, not yet. But I’m a bratok. I run the shestyorka.”
“So not the lowest and not the highest.”
“How you know so much about Bratva?”
“Since you’ve been parked outside my door, I’ve learned a lot.”
“Why you have that stupid American boyfriend? Russian men not good enough for you?”
“Before I tell you about my American hero, I want to know your name.”
“Boris.”
“It fits.” She studied his blunt features and mean squinty eyes. “You’re now Boris the Brute.”
“I don’t hate name.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Swallowing, she realized how dry her mouth was. Looking around for her purse, she realized they’d probably gotten rid of it. “What did you shoot me up with?”
“Secobarbital.”
“What the hell is that?”
“Just a little sedative that made you easy to manage. We know how loud you can be and we didn’t want to attract attention.”
“Do you have any water? My mouth feels like a ditch.”
“You know nothing about ditch.”
Watching Boris lean forward and grab a bottle of water made her realize that Sergey wasn’t going to kill her right away. After all, you didn’t care about someone’s hydration if you were going to kill them by day’s end. She must have some value to him and would hopefully live until she was no longer useful. “Thank you,” she murmured as she took the bottle of water with both hands and drank down half of it. “What’s the plan, Boris?”
“We wait.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes. Boss is talking to Firtash and depending on how much he values your life, we will soon have next move.”
As much as she wanted to curl into a ball and howl her fear and frustration, she didn’t. What good would it ultimately do if she fell apart and wasn’t ready for an opportunity to get herself out of the mess? Hank wouldn’t approve if she didn’t at least try.
Putting the cap on the bottle of water, she slowly tried to get herself under control and took deep breaths. Her body was running counterpoint to her emotions and she knew that wouldn’t ultimately help her.
Her heart was breaking at the thought of never seeing the love of her life again. Or her mama and papa. Not to mention her sweet sisters. Gulping in a deep breath, she studied the man who stood between her and freedom. “Why is Sergey Belikov interested in a no-name art conservator?”
“He needs something from Firtash and you are of the highest value to Dmitry. A carbon copy of his dead daughter makes you invaluable. He won’t let harm come to you the way he did to his own flesh and blood and Sergey is using you as a pawn.”
“So, you’ve been keeping an eye on me in case I could be useful in the game Belikov is playing?”
“Of course, you have no value otherwise.”
“What’s going to happen next?”
“Depends on Firtash. Either he cooperates or we make him.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yes. I may not answer.”
“Why did you join the Bratva? As far as a career choice goes, it doesn’t seem like the best option.”
“You talk like rich American. Boy from Tolyatti doesn’t have career. It’s one of the poorest cities in Russia.”
“I thought that’s where they made the Lada car.”
“You think manufacturing job pays for more than food?”
“I guess not now that Mother Russia isn’t taking care of everything.”
“When did you immigrate?”
“When I was three. My family came as part of the US expanded immigration allowing Soviet Jews to come.”
The sound of Boris’s phone ringing bounced off the metal walls of the van and startled her. Watching him read a text, she wondered what he was going to do when the orders came through. Everything about his physical appearance suggested he wouldn’t hesitate to take her out if that’s what was asked of him. She’d heard of the city where he grew up and there were few places that were bleaker. It was southeast of Moscow, sat on the Volga River, and didn’t have much going for it, even with the factory. Which meant a life in the Bratva was a huge step up. It gave him an identity, power, and enough money to have a nice life. Whatever he had to do to earn it didn’t seem to bother him too much, which meant there was no way to appeal to his humanity because he probably didn’t have any left.
The best she could hope for was that either Hank found her, or Firtash did as Belikov asked and she was spared. Rubbing the back of her neck, she felt the disc against her skin and hoped it was still working. Leaning her head against the seat, she closed her eyes and prayed.
***
Hank watched Stazi’s GPS locater move north on Highway 50, away from the warehouse and airport, headed God knew where. “Shit! Where are they taking you?” he asked himself quietly.
Lucky joined him and typed some information into her tablet. “I’m going to overlay the Shodan map so we can match Firtash’s location to Stazi’s GPS marker. It will also tell us where Belikov’s guys are. When all those blinking lights come close together we’ll know where she is.”
“Anything on the CCTV cameras yet?”
“No, I’d get an alert on my tablet. Unfortunately, there are not many along Columbus Avenue, which is where she was probably snatched. I looked at the history of the movement of her device and it looks like she spent all morning in the workshops and then must’ve decided to walk along Columbus to get to the art school. I know she uses their library all the time, so she must’ve needed some fresh air.”
Stepping closer to the map, Hank ran his finger over the route. “Wouldn’t someone have noticed?”
“Unless there’s something going on in the park, there’s not that much foot traffic in the area.”
“How could they know what her movements were going to be this morning? No way did they just get lucky and be in the right place at the right time.”
“Looks like they did, or else they have someone inside the museum who alerted them to Stazi’s movements.”
“Eventually, I’d like to get an answer to that, but not until I have her home.”
Sam walked into the room, slid his coat off, and then rolled up his sleeves. “This shit pisses me off.”
“Thanks for coming in,” Hank replied. “Any movement at the warehouse?”
“Nothing unusual. My team ran a drone equipped with a thermal imager over the entire two hundred fifty-six thousand square feet and didn’t pick up any heat signatures. I’d like to get a couple of dogs to go through there, but the DEA isn’t cooperating because they don’t want to get their hand slapped for an unlawful search.”
“How in the hell do they accomplish anything?” Hank asked.
“Not sure. We gave them everything we had, so they know the players, but the higher-ups don’t feel like it’s enough to go in.” Sam pointed to the map and frowned. “Maybe the bad guys are going to end up at Firtash’s house. They’re heading in that direction.”
Lucky tapped her pen against the Shodan map and nodded. “All my points of light are coming together and you may be right.”
Hank looked over at Sam. “We’re waiting until we get the cluster of players tight enough before we deploy. Last thing I want to do is run around Chicago like a chicken with my head cut off.”
“I’m going to have one of my people bring in the plans for Firtash’s house, so we can look at them again,” Lucky said. “The two buildings on the side could be your insertion point if we have to go into the house. I had conversations with both owners when we did initial recon on the building and I got the impression that they might cooperate with us.”
“How the hell did you manage that?” Sam asked.
“I made up a story about installing security for Firtash and asked for access to their exterior if it became necessary. They both agreed and asked for quotes from us on our systems. One guy is a tech nerd with more money than sense and the other is some kind of aging aristocrat from Scotland.”
“Never doubt her wily ways,” Hank added as he watched the lights on the map get closer and closer. His gut was telling him that the meeting was happening at Firtash’s. “Does Dmitry have a safe room in his house?”
“Possibly,” Lucky replied. “Let me get the plans and we’ll take a look.”
“What makes you think he had one installed?” Hank asked.
“If I was a billionaire with a list of enemies longer than my arm, I would damn well put a safe room in my house and have five foolproof exit strategies in place. He’s hated as much as he’s revered in Ukraine and with the ever-changing political climate, who knows who wants him dead?”
Wendy from Lucky’s team came in with the plans for Firtash’s house as well as the two homes on either side. “As requested.” She dropped the roll of plans on an empty table. “We know how the boss likes to use these antiquated paper plans. I also forwarded the digital copies to the team’s tablets.”
“Thanks, Wendy,” Hank said. “I like to go old-school when planning an op because sometimes Wi-Fi isn’t available and you have to know where you’re going even if the internet becomes unavailable.”
“I shudder at the thought.”
Jason and Maddox walked in and Hank waved them over. “Looks like we may end up at Firtash’s house. Let’s figure out how we drop in and not let anyone know we’ve arrived.”
Rubbing his hands together, Jason gave the group a confident smile. “My favorite thing to do.”
Hank looked at the people gathered and knew he couldn’t hope for a better team of individuals to bring Stazi home. He’d kept the picture of Stazi being scared or hurt at the back of his brain because if he spent a moment dwelling on it, he would lose his capacity to operate and there was no way he was letting that happen. Once he had her safely in his arms, he could process the enormity of their situation. But right now, that wasn’t a luxury he couldn’t afford.
It was time to go and get his girl. End of story.