Iris Johansen - Chasing the Night

“Hell, no.” Agent Eric Bradley scowled as he stared at the map. “We’re not sure of anything. It could be another red herring. But my informant says that Akron is a possibility.” He shook his head. “But we still don’t know who the contact is.” He cursed. “Or if there is one in Akron. It’s another damn blank. If they’re getting ready for a hit, why can’t we get someone to talk?”

“Because whoever is handling the money trail is smart and has the manpower to cover his tracks.”

“Rakovac?”

“I’d bet on it.”

“Then find him and get rid of him.”

It was the solution Venable had been considering, but it might be too dangerous. “And what if everything is in place and goes forward even after we kill him? We don’t know how far along he’s come with Ali Dabala. No, we have to know names, dates, cities.”

“I’ve tried, Venable.”

Venable knew Bradley had tried, and he was a good man. He had used every resource available and had gathered an amazing amount of information.

But not enough.

Venable felt a tightness in his chest as he gazed at the map. So many colorful tacks. It looked like a cell-phone commercial. Yellow tacks for possibles. Red tacks for probables. So many cities. So many people…

Damn Rakovac.

“What next?” Bradley asked.

“What do you think? Go back and get the information.”

Bradley hesitated. “The last timeline we have is between four and seven days. There may not be enough time.”

“Then stop wasting it.”

Bradley shrugged and strode out of Venable’s office.

Venable’s gaze returned to the map.

Four to seven days.

And the chances were that Bradley wasn’t going to be able to find out anything more than he had already.

Dammit, he had to know.

Stop hesitating. Do what had to be done. He couldn’t afford to be soft. He had to balance the good of the majority against the good of a few. He had lived all his adult life making decisions like this one. This would only be one more.

He reached for his phone and dialed a number. Voice mail. “Dufour, call me back. I need to speak to you. Pronto.”

Navrodas, Russia

The airport where they landed was located in a deserted area, with only three hangars and a runway that was bumpy and full of potholes.

Eve felt as if her teeth were being jarred out of their sockets by the time the jet came to rest at the end of the runway. “Not exactly a smooth landing.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Catherine said. “It’s within sixty miles of Moscow. The mafia built it over two decades ago, but they moved up in the world and abandoned it. It’s been deserted for at least seven years.”

“Totally deserted?” Joe asked. “Rakovac is still heavily involved with the mafia. It’s not watched?”

Catherine shook her head. “It’s safe, or Kelsov wouldn’t have brought us here. Believe me, he’s trying to stay off Rakovac’s hit list until he’s in a position to take him down.” She glanced at Eve’s computer. “No word from your institute?”

“Not yet.”

“Backlogged?”

“Always. But I put an urgent on the request. They know I don’t push unless there’s reason.” She was unfastening her seat belt. “And I’ve done a few favors for them.”

“More than a few,” Joe said dryly as he stood up. “Now tell me about this Kelsov. How much can we trust him?”

“All the way if it concerns taking Rakovac down,” Catherine said. “On every other front, he’s a wild card. He’s very smart, violent, and, on occasion, reckless. In most cases he sticks to his word, but I’ve known him to change horses in midstream.” She shrugged. “He’s a survivor. A survivor has to make certain adjustments.”

“But she likes him.” Dorsey Hodges had come out of the cockpit. “Enough to risk my neck whenever she decides she has to make a foray here to find her Luke.” He smiled at Catherine. “I, on the other hand, find him a little too barbaric for my taste. By the way, I don’t see a sign of him.”

“He was fighting and killing for the Georgian Republic in their fight with Ossetians and Russia when he was twelve. He was doing hard labor in Siberia by the time he was seventeen. I’d say that would foster barbaric tendencies.” Catherine was looking out the window. “And here he comes.”

“You’d think he’d be here waiting,” Dorsey said. He opened the door and pressed the button to lower the stairs. “But then we don’t think alike.”

“No.” Catherine had started down the stairs. “But there’s no rule that says you have to. As long as the job gets done.” She was waving at Kelsov. “You’ve upset Dorsey,” she called. “He thinks that you should have been here to whisk us safely away when the wheels touched down.”

“I was almost on time.” Alex Kelsov stepped out of the dark gray Mercedes. “I had a poker game last night, and I didn’t want to walk away a complete winner. It’s always better to lose a little to keep the tempers from flaring.” A brilliant white smile lit his tan face. “It takes time to lose convincingly.”

Lord, he’s big, Eve thought. Kelsov must have been at least six-five with broad shoulders, brawny arms and thighs, and tight waist and butt. Dressed in a white crew-neck cable sweater and dark jeans, he looked vaguely nautical. He was probably in his late twenties but he appeared younger. His hair was dark chestnut and worn a little long. His dark eyes were set deep in his craggy face, and his big white teeth and wide lips added boldness to his features. Not that he needed any additional boldness, Eve thought. Everything about his expression and body language spoke, no, shouted, of confidence and vitality.

“I imagine it takes longer to win convincingly,” Catherine said dryly. “Did you cheat, Kelsov?”

“Not this time. It wasn’t that kind of game.” He strode forward, picked her up, and gave her an enormous hug. “It’s good to see you, Catherine. I’ve missed you. Life is always more interesting when you come to visit me.”

“Put me down, Kelsov,” Catherine said. “You only do this to put me at a disadvantage.”

“Nonsense.” He swung her around, then set her on her feet. “I do it because you’re a beautiful woman, and it gives me the opportunity to touch you.”

“And?”

He grinned. “And it’s not often I can feel superior around you. A man must do whatever he can to keep his ego intact.” He looked beyond her to Dorsey Hodges. “Are you slipping? That landing wasn’t all that smooth.”

Dorsey said between set teeth, “If you’d arrange to bring us into a decent airport, I might be able to-”

“He’s right, Kelsov.” Catherine stepped into the conversation. “Stop baiting him.” She turned to Eve and Joe. “Joe Quinn, Eve Duncan. I told you about them. This is Alex Kelsov.”

“Delighted. I was a little uneasy until I did a little checking, but I think I can tolerate you.” Kelsov gave them another brilliant smile as he inclined his head. “If you don’t get in my way.”

“I’m not sure that we can tolerate you,” Joe said. “But there are always solutions if we can’t.”

“Oh, yes,” Dorsey said, half-beneath his breath.

Kelsov’s smile didn’t waver, but his expression became thoughtful. “That is true. There are always solutions.” He turned back to Catherine. “Do I take you to my farmhouse or do we have a destination?”

“The farmhouse. We should have word soon.”

“Is this farmhouse safe?” Joe asked.

“Of course,” Kelsov said. “I don’t make mistakes like that. I know Rakovac has his people crawling from beneath every rock.”