Mark Pryor - Cyberian Affair

Holy shit ! The man in charge of protection couldn’t protect himself ?

Niko whispered. “When? Who?”

“Two hours ago. No one said who did it—not out loud—but Falcon’s taken his place.”

“Did Falcon kill him?”

Yuri shook his head. “People like him don’t do their own killing. They order the hit, and someone does it for them.”

“Who collects the money now?” Niko held up his valise. “Falcon?”

Yuri smiled. “Yeah, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to ask him if he killed Skorpion.”

“Where do I find him?”

“At the warehouse. He’s taken over Skorpion’s office. Go in as though nothing happened. Hand over the money and leave.”

When Niko arrived at the warehouse, he knocked and entered. Skorpion’s bodyguard stood inside the door as usual. Big lunk must have been in on the hit . Inside the room, a man in a white shirt sat at Skorpion’s desk.

Gotta be Falcon .

Niko handed the bodyguard a slip of paper and the valise—just like he did every week. Then he turned to leave.

The man at the desk spoke. “Are you Adam Zima?”

Adam . Another reminder this was a dream, but the danger felt real. “Yes. I’m Adam.”

Falcon stood up. He was shorter than Niko expected, with closely cropped, dark hair. He looked like Kasparov, the chess master. “Come here, boy. I want to meet you.”

Niko stepped closer, stopping in front of the desk. The man’s eyes looked evil. His irises were black, the same color as his pupils. Niko’s heart raced as he stared into the soul of the devil, waiting for the man to speak.

“They tell me good things about you. How loyal you are—how strong.” He walked over and put his hand on Niko’s shoulder. “We should be friends—loyal friends. Can I count on you?”

The man’s touch made Niko cringe. This stone-cold killer was demanding unquestioned loyalty. Only one answer would let him walk out of here alive. “Of course, sir.”

Falcon walked back and sat behind his desk. “You collect Melnik’s payments, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They say he’s behind a few months. That true?”

“It is. He’s paying now, but there were two months when he didn’t. It’s all in the paperwork I turn in every week.”

An insincere smile spread across Falcon’s face. “Well, Adam. You’re no longer just a delivery boy. From now on, I expect you to collect all money owed to me. If someone refuses to pay, you won’t accept their answer. You’re a strong boy, they’ll listen to you. Do you understand?”

Sweat formed on Niko’s brow. He didn’t want to shake people down. If he could refuse and leave right now, he would, but no Mafia leader would let that happen. “Yes, sir. I’ll talk to Melnik. He’ll pay.”

Falcon shook his head. “He’ll pay all right. Be a lesson to others. No one holds out on me. No excuses.”

Shit ! He’s testing me .

A tire iron rested against the desk. Falcon picked it up and offered it to Niko. “Give him twenty-four hours to pay. And show him you’re serious.” Those black eyes bored into Niko. “Make sure he never walks again.”

For the first time since leaving his mother’s home, Niko regretted the life he had chosen. He didn’t want to do what Falcon ordered, but now was not the time to resist. “I understand, sir.” He grabbed the tire iron, turned, and walked out the door.

Niko shivered from the cold, but his face was hot. His stomach cramped, and he thought he might puke. He wanted to run—and keep running. But Falcon’s men would find him and bring him back. This was a test, and Niko was on a short leash.

Gotta get out of town. Head for the docks. Join a crew. Sail for America .

But right now, he had to shake anyone who might be tailing him. He walked two blocks and turned into his favorite pub. There were a few open stools at the bar.

The bartender spotted him. “Hi, Adam. Beer?”

He waved and kept walking. “Of course. Be right back. Gotta piss.”

Niko walked down the dimly lit hallway past the men’s room, opened the back door, and stepped outside. Five feet in front of him was the last man he ever wanted to see again. Falcon ! No way to get around him. Falcon !

A woman’s voice called out. “Niko! Wake up.”

Falcon’s jet-black eyes bored into him.

“Wake up,” the woman repeated. “You are dreaming.”

Niko shot straight up in bed, naked and soaked with sweat, the sheet twisted around one arm. As he freed himself, the sheet pulled away, exposing the lower half of his body.

Vyper stood at the side of the bed, wearing a T-shirt with the cartoon Linux gnu over baggy pants dotted with small penguins, her breasts larger than he remembered, her nipples erect against the fabric.

He grabbed the sheet and quickly covered himself.

She appeared oblivious to his stares and the brief exposure of skin. “Are you all right? What were you speaking? It sounded Russian.”

“I had a dream about my life in Sevastopol. The language was Ukrainian.”

“You yelled about Sokolov, or maybe Sokol.”

Suddenly, everything made sense. “ Sokol . That’s falcon in Ukrainian. I knew Sokolov as Falcon. We’ve got to stop him!”

Niko awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs. Sunlight fought its way through the closed shades, brightening an unfamiliar room. This was Vyper’s home, not his. He would never see his own apartment again—the Last Jedi poster, his mug collection, or his favorite recliner. He would never see his friends, either.

He pushed the vision of the Action Center fire out of his mind.

The clock on the dresser said 11:45. After his disturbing dream, he’d slept soundly the rest of the night and all morning as well. A bathrobe lay across a chair and Niko slipped it on. After a quick stop in the guest bathroom, he followed the sizzling sound and inviting aroma to the kitchen.

Vyper stood at the stove, spatula in hand, apparently unaware he was there. Her beautiful black hair, still moist from a shower, flowed down the back of a gray sweatshirt. Her pants revealed little of her shape

Niko cleared his throat. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Her breasts moved freely when she turned, but her hazel eyes never met his. It reminded him of last night, when her nipples had pressed firmly against her tee shirt.

Vyper placed a knife and fork on the table. “Yes, except when you started screaming about Sokolov.” She turned off the stove and slid two eggs onto a plate. “You should take a shower. I will make you breakfast when you are done.”

“Did you find out anything this morning? How many people survived?”

“Only the one in the ambulance last night. We can talk about everything after your shower.”

Niko walked back to the guest room and unpacked the only clothes he had in his “go bag.” He stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, letting it run over his body while his thoughts drifted to Marko, Rocky, Gato, and the others.

One survivor. Who ?

Later, refreshed and wearing clean clothes, Niko walked into the dining room.

Vyper sat at the table in front of her laptop. She looked up. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Over easy.”

She stepped into the kitchen and began preparations. “Have a seat. How many eggs?”

“Three would be great.” Niko sat at the small table. “Do you know who survived?”

Vyper walked back to her laptop and located a picture. She rotated the screen toward him, then went back to the stove.

Niko recognized him right away. “Gato! That’s Gato!”