To start at the beginning of the story go here.
Simon’s cafe was closed by the time we were done, so I took Rotella to get a cup of coffee while Sophie went for the map. The alcohol and adrenaline were fading from Rotella’s system so we sat in silence until I said, “That was pretty convincing.”
“It went well, yes.”
“Almost like you’ve done this before.”
“This is not the first time I have needed to convince someone I am less than what I am.” Sipping his coffee Rotella made a face of disgust that wasn’t from its bitterness. It was passing, but it was enough that I dismissed any worries about his integrity.
We stood at Sophie’s return. She strode forward and, in the midst of a Continental kiss, slipped a rolled up copy of the map under his arm. The two of them, stylish and slightly shabby, could have been a pair of fashion industry veterans sharing tailoring plans. Rotella didn’t examine the map, but said, “If I have any questions, I will let our friend know.”
With Rotella gone, I offered Sophie my arm, which she took with a smile. We stepped out into the cool of the evening, the day’s clouds blowing inland. “How do we get her out?”
“There is no need,” Sophie laid her head against mine and I felt one small trouble disappear. “Nika will meet us at midnight. She has been planning an escape of her own. Now we have given her someplace she may go.”
“So what did you two talk about?”
“The truth. She is a prisoner. And a hostage.”
“Hostage?”
“She is the daughter of another member of Mitnick’s Avoritet. Oleg Churbinov, a man important amongst the vory.” I realized now the word didn’t just mean gangster, but an entirely different tribe from Mitnick’s. “There is a dispute. While it is being resolved, Mitnick is watching Nika. But she has no interest in being a chess piece of her father’s world.”
I thought about Mitnick’s house and his lifestyle and his money and wondered if Nika, or anyone, would be willing to give up all of that for something as elusive and dangerous as freedom. Then I thought about all of the women that had to spread their legs for men they hated. Nika at least deserved the chance to find out for herself what she wanted. The trouble that was about to come Mitnick’s way only made me smile.
As I guided us on our idle walk Sophie asked, “Where are we going?”
“Back to the apartment.”
Sophie laughed at that, a lascivious quality to it that translated into a touch of my arm that felt like an electric shock. “And what did you have in mind to pass the time?”
I felt myself blush and fumbled out the words, “I thought I’d get some new socks.” The encounter at Mitnick’s had left my feet in pools of perspiration.
Sophie laughed louder as she guided us back towards the apartment. Pinching her dress by the fabric, she lightly moved it around. “Perhaps a change is in order.” Given everything that was going on, I wondered at our ability to focus on such practical matters.
We manage to get to the Distributeur International warehouse shortly after dark, though. The gates had been locked against squatters long ago, but vandals had made it easy to get inside by smashing windows. I pulled myself through one to open the large front doors from the other side, ushering Sophie in.
I left the one of the doors slightly ajar, for when Lanzo arrived. I didn’t worry about the exposure; the entire district was quiet with abandonment. The rare set of headlights that went by sent beams of light spinning through the warehouse’s broken windows to rip around the interior like a searchlight across a prison yard. I tensed at every blinding circle, worried that Nika might get caught in her escape. If she did and she gave us up, I had seen first hand what Mitnick did to men who interfered with his stewardship of the girl.
Sophie found something relatively clean to sit on, keeping her focus on the door. After a time she got tired of watching me pace and pulled me closer, wrapping her arms around me. She pointed us both towards the entrance and we waited.
When Cheryl’s voice came I realized I wasn’t hearing it as much lately. Even now, it was only to say something she would often say to me when we were together as Sophie and I were now. “This is nice.” As if her ghost suddenly realized she wasn’t there, it added, “Isn’t it?”
I kept my eyes on the door even as my mind ping-ponged between past and the future. Feeling Sophie’s stillness, I marveled at her ability to be in the present. I was only happy when Lanzo arrived before the appointed time.
Lanzo had dried his eyes, though they were still red with anger and loss. Not a great look for a man about to make a romantic rendezvous. I ignored this, moving away from Sophie to step out of the shadows. “Get inside,” I told him.
Lanzo closed the door behind him. “You spoke with Nika?”
“Oui,” Sophie answered, coming forward. “She was happy to read your note.” She smiled in a way that told Lanzo the world should be happy. “She will meet us. Here. Tonight.”
Despite the many things Lanzo was troubled about, this news brought him relief. He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. Fumbling for a cigarette he placed it in his mouth and gazed into the cavern of the old warehouse as if he could see the future in its darkness. Whatever he saw in those shadows wasn’t comforting, He lit his cigarette, burning a hole in the night.
Calming jittery young men buffeted by the forces of love, murder, and betrayal was not something I was practiced at. I’m not sure why I didn’t keep quiet and let Sophie speak for us, but I stepped forward. I was relieved to pull out the roll of Euros I had been carrying around. “This isn’t a lot, but if you’re smart it can take you far.” In the dark, I took his hand in mine and put the money in it.
Lanzo took it, feeling it before he realized what it was and its value. It was probably the most money he had held in his life. He stared at it, rotating it in his fist, examining the cash like it was a meteor fallen to Earth. He managed to take his cigarette in hand before it fell out of his mouth. Once he was convinced it was real, he stared at me, all new questions bubbling up.
I waved these away. “I stole it from Mitnick.” Whatever questions were on Lanzo’s lips were replaced with a grin. He disappeared the money roll into his jacket.
We waited. Switching roles, Sophie disappeared into the dark of the warehouse, stalking in absolute silence. Every once in a while I would see her shadow peek through one of the windows.
In between the cigarettes he was chain-smoking, Lanzo asked, “Where is the Russian?”
“You mean Mitnick?”
“Oui.”
I repeated my contradictory impulse from earlier. “He’s not Russian. He’s from Belarus.”
Lanzo chuckled, clearly not seeing or caring about the distinction. “What is the difference? They are countries run by czars.”
In the dim, I cast a side-eye to reevaluate Lanzo. He was than I thought. I chose not to pursue that, though, and stretched my trench coat against the growing cold. “I guess it doesn’t.”
“So where is he?”
I felt pride make me reluctant to answer. If I had thought to ask back at the house, a simple question probably could have revealed Mitnick’s evening plans. Lanzo, though, had earned a straight answer. “I don’t know. At home, probably.”
Lanzo only grinned from behind his cigarette, this bit of known unknown causing his teeth to sprout into a raptorial grin under his aquiline nose. I ignored it. After all, if Mitnick walked in the door right then, Lanzo would get a chance to kill him.
Time marched towards midnight and passed it. Silence filled the cavern of the warehouse. Sophie walked the perimeter while Lanzo and I pondered vague futures.
Another quick spin of lights through the windows was the only warning we got before a car that sounded like a thousand hot pistons roared to a halt outside. It made such a racket that every nerve that I had on standby jumped to attention.
The headlights died out a second after the growling of the engine ceased. I rushed to the entrance to see the silhouette of a low-slung bullet parked out front, its tire up on the curb. I cursed, even as Nika stepped out of the vehicle, imagining her rocketing away from Mitnick’s house in what appeared to be the most easily recognizable car in France.
To read the next chapter, go here.
To read the previous chapter, go here.
To read the author’s published work, go here.
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