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Teth walked into the Senate, carrying the head of the man who had order her execution. Covered in blood, teeth bared, she threw the severed head onto the floor and dared any man take it, promising her own if they could wrest it from her.
None dared. The Senators ordered their nomistic soldiers to kill her but, tired of murdering innocents to fill their masters’ coffers, silence was the only reply.
This permeated the chamber until a hysterical aristocrat screamed at the closest guard to, “Do something!” The soldier’s only response was to draw his sword and throw it at the Senator’s feet. The message was clear.
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There wasn’t any getting out of this. I stripped off the trench coat and down to my undershirt, kicked off my shoes. A few of the Russians watched me, narrowed eyes traveling up and down my bulk, my size making them reconsider whether their boss boxing with me was a good idea.
Brick surprised me by stepping forward to help me with the gloves, lacing them up in a competent and speedy manner. In a delaying action I said to him, “You’ve done this before.” He nodded and I asked, “You a boxer too?”
He smiled savagely and nodded again, adding, “But not like Mitnick.” He slapped my shoulder like we were pals. “You are doomed.” I climbed into the ring anyway.
In the ring, Mitnick moved his feet in a quick dance that shuffled him around me, producing more anticipatory chuckling from the crowd. I tried to keep to a corner, but Mitnick circled me, throwing a few jabs that were easy to avoid, but pushed me into the center of the ring before I realized what he was doing. I had to rotate to face him, keeping me off-balance.
In between a few glancing jabs he said, “You have made my houseguests angry.” I opened my mouth to reply, but Mitnick interrupted with the first solid blow. It rang my bell.
He continued, “I ask them to send Mikhail to help you, Mikhail disappears.”
I kept my hands up to ward off his fists. “Pyotr goes to ask you about this and you assault and rob him.”
Mitnick stepped closer and landed a series of body blows that that I mostly kept at bay with my elbows. “You bring police here, insist to meet Nika and now –” Mitnick punctuated his next sentence with fiercer jabs. “Nika is gone and the police have begun raids against me.”
With the pattering of blows, I felt my anger begin to rise. I focused on Mitnick’s comment about the most important thing.
I poked my head out from between my gloves. “The police?” Mitnick rewarded me for dropping my guard with a quick tap that glanced off my forehead.
“Yes! The very same night the police you brought to my house – what was his name?”
It took me a moment to find it. “Rotella.”
“Yes, the very same night you brought him here, his comrades in the police began.”
“You told me to bring him here.”
“Indeed. This Rotella, he must have hidden his intent.”
“From both of us. Let me go find him and you can play with him in here.”
Mitnick laughed as if nothing would please him more. “Did you not hear me? Nika is gone.”
“Nika’s gone?” The constant barrage from Mitnick made it hard to think of anything smarter to say.
“Yes! She stole one my automobiles and drove down the mountain.” Mitnick spoke like a parent cheerfully discussing a child’s mischievous behavior. “She is so clever! Not one of us is able to find her.” Mitnick hit me like crushing disappointment. “How could she, a stranger to this place, manage to stay hidden?”
“We’re all strangers here,” I replied. Mitnick’s smile floated above his own guard, wistful and bright. I took the opportunity to try and land my own jab and nearly got him, but he swerved away. Thinking of Sergei’s bruised corpse, I wondered if he had to endure this before his death. “Maybe you should have had someone watching her.”
The series of jabs this provoked were more forceful, but I had anticipated them, retreating out of reach. His cheer diminished, Mitnick replied, “We have all been watching her. Escape is always possible. But how has she stayed hidden? She has no passport, no money.”
Artfully answering Mitnick’s questions was made impossible by his fists. However, the busy hours he’d had since midnight, didn’t escape me. Dodging a glove, I tried to use that as a distraction, “You think the police raiding your operations has something to do with it?”
“The world is filled with things I do not know.” Mitnick emphasized his point with a solid gut punch that nearly knocked me over. “It is odd to me, though, that after such a good demonstration of faith the inspector should do this.”
With pain radiating from his last blow, I dropped my guard and Mitnick pummeled me. I hobbled on my feet as he shuffled away and said, “I think he is a liar. I think I am surrounded by liars.”
I tried to keep my hands up, elbows close to my body. “If she said she was a prisoner, why wouldn’t Rotella just arrest you for kidnapping?”
“Indeed. Do you know the Corsican boy?” The change of subject confused me as much as the fists. “His name is Lanzo? You met him him after he pestered me in the casino.”
“I remember his friends, the ones you sent to kick my ass.” Two jabs distracted me from a right cross that caused the edges of my vision to blur. I wobbled back adding, “You could have just saved everyone a lot of time and done it yourself.”
Mitnick laughed again and I tried to catch my breath, ribs aching. “Dur and Zakhar found you at his uncle’s shop the first time they brought you here.”
“Yeah. I was told to make sure he got the message not to come around the casino anymore. Your boys interrupted me.”
“So you have not seen this Lanzo since?”
Through my rising heartbeat and the pain crowding my brain, I tried to think. Had one of Mitnick’s men seen me with Lanzo? Had he made a connection?
Instead of answering I channeled my anger into moving closer to Mitnick, taking him by surprise with a series of fast, wild counter-attacks. After landing a few punches, I asked, “Who cares about that idiot?”
Mitnick dodged away. “He has caused much trouble outside of the casino.”
“That’s probably why Atwell wanted me to talk to him. I dropped by his uncle’s a second time, but he didn’t see me.” His uncle couldn’t see me. He was dead.
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There’s something about knowing an ambush is waiting that changes a familiar landscape. Like a routine patrol where you see the same spots in the same city everyday, Simon’s had become familiar, but now it was as welcoming as a haunted house.
Expensive European cars crowded the narrow street outside of Simon’s cafe. Among them was a Mercedes SUV, black and built like a tank. They must have brought a lot of boys, which I took as a compliment. Two of them, wearing black leather jackets and smoking cigarettes, were on alert. The first one to spot me nodded to the other and they formed up, radiating a menace that was low wattage compared to Brick’s expert menace. I walked past without acknowledging them and the pair closed ranks behind me as I went inside.
There were half-a-dozen crowding the tables of the cafe, all moving to a slovenly attention as I entered. I looked for Simon. To my relief, he was sitting on one of his stools, elbow on the counter, its rows of espresso cups knocked out of order, some broken on the floor. He smiled at me from behind a raw steak he was holding against his left eye. Other than the piece of butchery he didn’t look any worse off. My chest expanded with gratitude even as I saw Brick stood next to him exuding his usual level of charm.
Whip rose to his full height in a burgundy suit. He was holding an espresso, saucer in one hand, cup in the other, pinky finger up, smiling as if he was glad to see me. I guess he was, just not in any friendly way.
His smile disappeared, though, when Pyotr, pointing at me with a tattooed hand, demanded, “Where’s my passport?”
I blinked, having forgotten about the document. “Is that what this is all about?”
Pyotr threw a punch into my gut. I didn’t dare defend myself, curling to take the blow. Before he could continue, though, Whip gave Pyotr a corrective order. I raised a plaintive hand. “Jesus Christ, I’ll find your fucking passport.”
Pyotr raised his fist again, causing Whip to practically bump his chest into Pyotr’s to reestablish dominance. The two glared at each other until Brick stepped closer. Whatever simian signals passed between them allowed Whip to dismiss Pyotr with a wave.
Setting his cup aside, Whip leaned forward to speak at me. “Mr. Mitnick wishes to see you.” He sounded very formal, like an engraved invitation from a Bond villain.
“I got that,” I exhaled, exaggerating the pain of the gut punch. Figuring it might be the last chance, I ignored everyone else and spoke to Simon. “I’m sorry about this.”
Between the steak and a brave face, Simon’s fear showed through the crack. “I am sorry as well.”
I was about to ask him what he had to be sorry for, but decided it was best to get the goon squad out of there. I prodded Whip with, “I guess you figured you needed more guys this time?”
Whip sneered and held the leash of his anger, gesturing to the vory. Two of them picked me up and hustled me into the Mercedes outside.
The drive out of town was beautiful, as always. I watched the scenery go by and kept my mouth shut. The road between the blue sea and into the green spring of the mountains might, after all, be the last pleasant thing I saw. I took it all in and breathed carefully and slowly, keeping anger at bay.
In the full light of day, the house’s white marble steps and fluted columns reminded me of a place of worship. Or sacrifice. I laid eyes on the statue of Athena and prayed that Sophie wouldn’t try a rescue.
Whip led us around the house, down a white stone walkway to a clearing with a square, raised platform, poles at its four corners, each connected by ropes. As I recognized what it was, dread sank in.
Mitnick was inside the boxing ring, tying the laces on a pair of sneakers. Seeing me, he stood tall, his teeth shining out from behind his beard. For the first time he wasn’t in a suit, but wearing red shorts and green top. For a man in his middle age, he cut an athletic figure, wide shoulders and long, muscular legs. He brought his bright white smile to me and said, “It is good to see you.”
“You could have just told me to come.”
“These are interesting times, my friend, and there is little time to waste. For instance, I feel like I barely know you. I hardly know your name.”
“You know I work for Atwell. And you know you’ve got Atwell on the dangle. What else do you need to know?”
“Ah, yes. Atwell. Has disappeared of late.” At least Atwell was smart enough to do that.
“I don’t typically see him face-to-face.”
“Quite right. Spycraft, like the KGB agents of old, with their hidden cameras and chases and disappearances.” Mitnick became misty as he dwelled on the Cold War. “But do you know what the most important thing is in espionage?”
“I wouldn’t know. I was a Marine.”
Mitnick ignored this and raised a taped fist with his index finger extended, indicating the one important thing. “To hide one’s intent.”
Mitnick finished taping up his hands, each twist ratcheting up my dread. “For instance, Sartre knows I wish to make friends in Old Town, that I have setup independent operations. If I had kept this hidden from him longer, perhaps we would not be here now.”
Whip pushed a pair of boxing gloves at me. I stared as if they were alien objects.
Mitnick continued. “I barely know you, therefore I do not know your intent.” I began to mutter some lie about money, getting paid, the usual American stereotypes, which Mitnick dismissed without really listening. “The best way to get to know a man is to fight him.”
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. People don’t get to know each other through violence.”
Mitnick laughed. “You see? You surprise me. I did not know you were funny.” He gestured to Whip who handed me the gear. “Now put on your gloves.”
To start at the beginning go here. To hear an audio reading of the chapter, hit the play button above.
I clapped him on the shoulder before facing Sophie to bow at the waist and sweep my hands towards the path up the embankment. She smiled and laughed a bit at my antics, gesturing for me to lead the way.
I did, only stopping a few yards up the path as I heard another siren. I tried to remember if they had been this common the entire time and I have never noticed, or if this was new. I suspected it was new.
With the busy night behind us, the sun was beginning to paint the terracotta roofs of Old Town. It would still be awhile before the trams were operating, so we walked in a pleasant quiet for a time until I decided to lengthen the walk with Sophie by swinging by the cathedral to check the drop point. Atwell would probably be trying to lie low, but if he had anything to communicate it would be there. There wasn’t anything. I decided use the payphone to check the mobile’s voicemail.
I can’t tell you if I’m happy I did that or not. After the chirping of the system, I dialed in the code and a gravelly Russian voice came on. “Mitnick wishes to meet with you.” I was happy to ignore that until a more convenient time, but it concluded, “Do not worry. We will meet you at your cafe, say hello to Simon for you.”
The line went dead in my hand and I stood there, my neanderthal brain trying to process the new information. When it did, I hung up the receiver. “I have to go meet Mitnick.”
Sophie fluttered her eyes in the way that she did when I was being particularly stupid. “No. He may suspect.”
“He does. He’s waiting for me at the cafe.”
Sophie slipped an arm through mine and pulled gently. “Then let us not be there. To go home, to rest.”
I had told Sophie about Simon a few times, but I hadn’t mentioned that the old man had become important to me. Or maybe it was the fact that I wasn’t willing to let Simon get caught up in all of this. Either way, I answered, “They’ve got Simon. They’re waiting at the cafe.”
Unless upset by one of her bouts of obsession, there was always a harmony in Sophie, a happy poise. I realized how much I had come to rely on this as it disappeared. She produced a, “Si.” The declaration sounded like the end of the world. Whatever was happening in Sophie internally didn’t bubble out as a refusal, but her green eyes flooded with a kind of resolute gloom, as if we were discussing something as immutable as bad weather. “I will go with you.”
“If you come with me they’ll know we’re together. It’ll only confirm Mitnick’s suspicions. He’ll kill us both.”
The truth of those words caused Sophie to stutter, which gave me a moment to take both of her hands in my own. I tried to reflect an ounce of the calm that she lent to me in our daily lives, and I found in her face a similar reel of my own feelings of impotence and anger.
In the shadow of the cathedral, she paused, only to to continue in a deathly quiet, “If they kill you, I will build a mountain of their corpses.”
It might have been the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. I squeezed her hands. “It won’t come to that.”
I hugged her tight until the sky began to lighten, the sun painting the tips of the cathedral’s onion domes. When I let her go I could tell she had shed some tears, but those were gone by the time she lifted her head. “How will I know?”
There were a lot of different dimensions to that question and I tried to consider all of them. When a lone birdsong started in the background I answered, “If things go well, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” I left the other alternatives unsaid.
She kissed me before she started walking us towards a tram station. We held hands the entire way, not something I’m sure we’ve ever done before. We arrived at a station, still with only the barest of early morning crowds. After another lingering hug, we each found the tramcar point to Les Moulins. Realizing how much I wanted Sophie to come with me, I said, “It would be stupid for both of us to go.”
She nodded, in the soft, sad way of a funeral director.
We kissed and I stepped onto the tram, the pneumatic doors softly closing behind me.
To start at the beginning go here. To hear an audio reading of the chapter, hit the play button above.
Feeling the broken revolver bump against my bruises as I ran, I cursed not picking up the vory’s weapon. I slapped my feet against the ground and hurried, changing directions only to turn back on course, hoping to shake off any pursuers.
Between the cloister of warehouses and the river’s edge was the long, empty road that separated the two. Moonlit and desolate, it held nothing but the promise of being seen. I hid with my back against a brick wall and tried to listen, my own ragged breathing filling my ears.
The best I could hope for was the absence of headlights. When the dark went on without interruption, I sprinted across the road, coming to a skidding halt at the chains, nearly taking me over and down the embankment.
While I had cursed the moonlight in the alleys and streets, it may have been the only thing that kept me from tumbling off the narrow path down. I shuffled as quick as I could, small landslides kicking off from my feet.
I was relieved to see the door of the hutch slightly ajar, a warm light spilling out into the night’s cool air. As I got closer I could hear voices within, words being exchanged in tones high and animated.
I pushed into the room quickly, bringing it to silence. In the small space was everyone; all three of the voyous, Nika and Lanzo, Sophie’s head nearly bumping into the ceiling. She strode forward to cover my face with a flutter of soft kisses and I think I could have been happy to die right there.
As distracting as that was, I couldn’t help but notice Nika staring around the dirty and subterranean room with a barely controlled horror. Even emptied of garbage the place was still a hole.
Thevoyouswere too busy backslapping to notice. Lanzo held Nika as her mouth began to move sporadically. I slipped out of Sophie’s hug and moved to Lanzo. I placed a firm hand on his shoulder and indicated Nika with my eyes. “We should get her inside.”
Cradling her in their uncertainty and fear, he nodded back at me, and I let him lead the way. A quick glance at Sophie told her to keep the two groups separate.
Once through the door, Nika let out a gasp. The glow of the fairy lights created an unreal, bright island under the city. She involuntarily stopped, unsure of the mirage Lanzo had conjured. When the vision of this subterranean boudoir persisted, Nika squeaked slightly, letting go of Lanzo’s hand to touch the bed.
Confirming its solidity, Nika laughed quietly, the sound echoing across the arched ceiling like it might in Old Town’s cathedral. She hopped backwards onto the bed, landing on her butt, laughing, causing Lanzo to join.
This spread from Nika to Lanzo to Sophie, the latter floating a hand to softly land on my back. As Nika pulled Lanzo close to the bed for a kiss, I couldn’t help but ruin things by whispering, “We’re going to need to change those sheets later.”
Sophie playfully slapped my arm, mock punishing my crudeness. I just let out a long breath into the illusion Nika could be safe here for awhile.
Lanzo surprised everyone by bending down to retrieve something hidden under the mattress’ comforters. Looking every bit like Simon’s old-school waiter, Lanzo came up with something piled high under a cloth, holding it as if it were on a platter. As Nika stared at it in confusion, he whipped off the cloth to reveal a motley stack of books.
It took me a moment to realize that Lanzo was presenting her with something to pass the time and, judging by the widening of her smile, one of her favorites. I let out a surprised grunt. I had assumed that Nika and Lanzo didn’t know each other well, a cynical part of me thinking their reuniting would end in disaster, that we’d be lucky if they got along long enough to get out of town. But here was proof that Lanzo knew something of Nika and that he cared enough to cater to those desires. She glowed nearly as bright as the fairy lights before bringing Lanzo in for another kiss.
This went on for awhile. When I heard thevoyouschuckling like schoolboys I decided it was time to intervene. I stepped back to the main room and said, “You’ll be staying here for a few days. It’s not much but it’ll keep you safe and hidden till we can get you out of the country.”
Holding Lanzo on the bed between me and her, Nika stared at me. Standing within those ancient stone walls, I must have resembled some kind of golem, a barely formed hulk that was both useful and frightening. Feeling a need to fulfill this role, I added, “We’ll bring you anything you need.” I waggled a thumb between me and Sophie.
Nika’s uncertainty gave way to an animated joy, her eyes brightening as she let go of Lanzo to bump around on the mattress like a kid at Christmas. It made her seem even younger than she was. I felt a sudden tightness in my chest that I tried to banish but wouldn’t go.
I got Lanzo’s attention and swiveled my head back the way we came. “Walk us out.” He nodded, promising Nika he’d return shortly while she held onto him. He kissed her, clearly as reluctant to leave as she was to let him go.
Eyes back on me, she said, “I didn’t think they’d be able to follow me.”
I realized then she was embarrassed, that she was surviving the experience all young people must survive in realizing that they aren’t as smart as they think they are. I thought about the one long road down from Mitnick’s and his palatial part of town and wondered how she thought they wouldn’t be able to follow her. Instead of saying that, though, I lied. “They probably had a tracker on the car.” Maybe they did.
I don’t know if this consoled her, but she let Lanzo go. I walked him and the voyous back into the main room. I spoke to all four as if we were one happy squad. “You’re going to need to stay here full time for the next couple of days. If you need supplies, only one of you goes,” I floated a finger across the voyous. I pointed at Lanzo, “You stay here, no matter what.”
Everyone nodded and I gestured at Lanzo. “Let’s talk for a minute.” I sensed that the Idiots wanted to follow us, but Sophie’s interposing presence dissuaded them.
Outside of the hutch, there was the distant sound of police sirens and I let those fade away before I spoke. The dark reflexively caused my voice to drop to a whisper. “You going to be able to hold it together?” I asked Lanzo.
He responded with a, “Oui,” and a stare out into the night that made me doubt him.
“You’ve turned the tables.” Lanzo’s eyes softened with hope. “Keep her safe for a few days. Then the two of you will be gone and none of it will matter.”
I think Lanzo may have fingered the roll of Euros he had in his pocket. He nodded and I said, “Good.” I gestured to Sophie. “We’ll be back.”
