Giordano didn’t answer.
‘You don’t have to confirm it,’ she said. ‘I find that amusing. I find it amusing that you would dare lie to me when I have the power to inflict upon you the most horrific pain imaginable.’
‘I’m not lying,’ Giordano dared to say.
‘Of course you aren’t.’
In one quick action, the woman dragged the blade of the box cutter down the Italian’s abdomen. The skin bloomed open. Blood poured out of the wound.
Giordano wailed.
He thrashed and bucked against his chains and the large man holding his legs.
‘You are a master forger,’ the woman said, talking loudly to be heard over Giordano’s screams. ‘What did you make for him? Identification? A passport?’
‘
YES
,’ Giordano managed to yell through his cries of pain. ‘
A passport. I made him a passport
.’
‘That’s better,’ the woman said in a pleased tone. She placed the box-cutting knife down on the trolley, and turned away from Giordano. ‘That’s much better. What is the name on the passport you constructed for this man?’
‘Tolento Lombardi,’ he said to her back.
‘Remember when I told you if you were truthful, I wouldn’t hurt you?’ she asked without turning back around. Before Giordano could answer, she added, ‘Unfortunately, you chose to lie to me. And now I can’t believe anything you say.’
Giordano grimaced from the agony in his stomach. He could feel rivulets of warm blood trickling down his stomach. Sweat covered his whole body. ‘I’m sorry. Please, I won’t lie again.
Please
.’
‘Some people believe torture to be ineffective,’ the woman explained, her back still to Giordano. ‘But it is only ineffective if the person administrating it is unlearned. I have studied the art for more than a decade, all over the world, learning every technique imaginable, both modern and ancient. But, alas, I rarely get to use my talents.’ The woman finally turned around, the blow torch in hand. ‘So, Alberto, I’m particularly glad that you chose to lie to me. Thank you for that.’
There was a
whoosh
as she sparked the flame.
Moscow, Russia
Yuliya Eltsina stood inside one of the many warehouses owned by the organisation. Even though the arms-trafficking company was huge in size, there was no office building or central hub. The business employed a structure not dissimilar to a terrorist network with cells operating largely independently from one another. Each cell received its orders from a member higher up the chain, who in turn answered to an executive governed by the board, of which Burliuk and Eltsina were the equivalent of VPs. Kasakov, of course, sat at the top of the table as CEO. Until now.
Of the seven members of the board, only five could make it to her meeting. The others were stationed too far away to arrive in time, but would be contacted afterwards to be informed of the new changes. The power rush Eltsina was feeling made her hands shake. She had never felt so alive.
The warehouse was empty and was nothing more than part of the organisation’s façade of legitimacy. The floor was clean and shiny, reflecting the glow of fluorescent tube lights hanging overhead as white lines that ran from wall to wall. Metal pillars supported the ceiling. Air-conditioning units hung unused. At one end, the huge roll-up door was open to allow the various cars of the board members to enter. In a loose semicircle were two Bentleys, a Rolls-Royce, a Zil limousine and three BMWs.
Burliuk and the five members of the board were standing in a loose group. Their drivers and bodyguards waited at the far end of the warehouse, out of earshot. The board members were all smartly dressed, as Kasakov always demanded. Most had grey hair. Most were overweight.
They were a bland group of men who were as ruthless as they were greedy. All were chauvinists and it had taken Eltsina years to garner enough respect from them for this moment to be possible. She knew that so long as they were convinced she could make them even wealthier, she would have their support.
‘Gentlemen,’ she began, ‘I’m sorry to call everyone here like this, but I have some very bad news for you all.’ She looked at the floor and then around the warehouse as if she was struggling with what to say next. Her voice broke as she said, ‘Vladimir is dead.’
Silence. Disbelief passed over their faces, then shock.
‘What do you mean?’ one asked.
‘How? When?’ Burliuk demanded, and fumbled for his asthma inhaler.
Eltsina tried her best to look pained, but not too pained, else they would see her as a weak-willed woman. ‘I understand it happened earlier today. While on vacation with Izolda, he was shot and killed.’
A particularly fat board member scoffed. ‘Impossible. I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true,’ Eltsina assured.
‘What about Izolda?’ Burliuk asked, desperation in his voice. ‘Is she safe?’
‘As I understand it.’
Mumbles of astonishment and outrage passed around the group. Burliuk looked more shocked than distraught, just as she had expected. He was probably already rehearsing what he was going to say as he stepped forward to take over from Kasakov.
‘As you all know,’ Eltsina added, ‘Baraa Ariff has been at war with Vladimir for some weeks now. We have lost hundreds of millions of dollars and many employees due to his unprecedented attacks. But by murdering Vladimir, he has cost us even more.’
She averted her eyes and swallowed heavily. Don’t overdo it, she told herself.
‘But how could he? Ariff’s dead,’ a board member shouted.
There were mutterings of agreement.
‘I’m afraid Ariff must have sent his assassins before he was himself killed,’ Eltsina explained. ‘Else his lieutenants did it for revenge.’
There were nods and curses. Burliuk was looking at her, but his expression was unreadable.
‘We will have time to grieve for Vladimir,’ she said, ‘but he built this empire with his own hands and it would enrage him to see it crumble in his absence. We must rebuild and become stronger than ever before.’
‘Yes.’
‘Hear, hear.’
‘To that aim,’ Eltsina continued, ‘we must act decisively and with speed, lest others step into the vacuum left by Vladimir.’
‘Agreed,’ a board member said. ‘Any delay only weakens us.’
The fat board member added, ‘We need to show the world we are still number one, with or without Vladimir.’
‘Then we must have a new leader.’
‘But who?’
Eltsina let the silence build for a moment before she said, ‘Of course Tomasz is the natural heir to Vladimir’s throne.’ She cast a glance at Burliuk. ‘He was closer to Vladimir than all of us combined, and had been at his side the longest.’
Nods of agreement.
‘But,’ Eltsina added with a careful look to each of the board members she had lied to or manipulated over the past month, ‘he thirsted for Ariff’s blood as much as Vladimir, and together they brought Ariff’s assassins to our doors.’
The faces of the board members told Eltsina everything she needed to know. None would have dared say what she had just said, but they all agreed with it, or at least had been convinced by Eltsina’s lies and exaggerations. Burliuk stared hard at Eltsina, but still didn’t speak. He was too smart to rush blindly into a retort until he knew exactly what was happening.
‘We cannot have the same recklessness take us forward,’ she said. ‘So I propose that, in the absence of a more suitable candidate, I be the one to take over from Vladimir. If the honourable board agrees, naturally.’
The board members looked at each other. The braver ones looked at Burliuk too. They may have been rich, powerful men, but at heart each one was a coward.
Eventually one nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yuliya should take over.’
‘Agreed,’ another said.
Like dominoes falling, the other three all expressed their approval. Eltsina resisted smiling and looked at Burliuk. A trace of fear crept into his expression. ‘Do you have anything you’d like to say, Tomasz?’ Eltsina asked. She felt dizzy with power. The adrenalin flowing through her veins felt divine. She said, ‘Don’t you have anything to say at all?’
‘I do,’ a deep voice answered.
It echoed around the warehouse. Everyone turned to see Kasakov emerge from one of the doors that lined the factory walls. Five bodyguards followed.
Eltsina gasped. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Kasakov strode towards her – huge, imposing, alive. Terrifying. Eltsina limply reached for her pistol.
Before her hand was even around the grip, Kasakov’s elite guards had their own weapons out and were shouting at Eltsina to stop. She showed her palms.
‘I don’t understand,’ she managed to say as Kasakov grew closer.
‘You don’t need to understand,’ Kasakov said, and punched her with a massive straight right that struck Eltsina on the side of the face, fracturing both cheek and jawbone and sending her crashing to the floor, unconscious.
Kasakov grimaced and shook his hand several times. He faced the board members.
‘Gentlemen,’ he began, ‘I apologise for the deception, but I assure you the juvenile theatrics were necessary. I told just two people where I was vacationing: Tomasz and Yuliya. Yet someone tried to kill me there. I’m sure, after Yuliya’s little speech, you will now understand who that person was.’
Eltsina, jaw broken and barely conscious, managed to mumble incoherently.
‘Quiet, my sweet,’ Kasakov said. ‘You’ll have plenty of time to make noise later.’ He smiled and his shadow fell across the woman’s face. ‘And you thought what I did to Ariff was so very cruel.’
*
It was almost midnight by the time Kasakov and Burliuk arrived at Kasakov’s home. Sheets lined the floor of the hallway. Everywhere were piles of bricks, metal beams, screws, tools and stacks of four-inch-thick sheets of laminated glass and polycarbonate. Each window in the dacha was being replaced with the best bullet-resistant glass money could buy. Motion detectors and cameras were being fitted in every room. Kasakov’s dacha had always been secure and well guarded, but now it was being transformed into a fortress.
‘You’ll have to excuse the mess,’ Kasakov said to Burliuk as they reached the top of the staircase, ‘but I think you’ll understand it’s about time I upgraded my security. My guards didn’t try to take your inhaler, did they?’ Burliuk shook his head and Kasakov smiled. ‘Be glad they didn’t insist on giving you a cavity search.’
An armed bodyguard was stationed on the landing, overlooking the staircase. Another stood at the bottom. One either end of the long hallway. Kasakov led Burliuk inside his study and closed the door.
‘Take a seat, Tomasz.’
Burliuk did.
‘Izolda is downstairs,’ Kasakov said, taking a seat behind his desk. ‘She’s taken the assassination attempt surprisingly well, I think. She’s a strong woman, but I’ve already left her for too long with just guards for company.’
‘Take some time off,’ Burliuk said, ‘stay with Izolda. Take care of your wife, and let me take care of everything else.’
Kasakov smiled at that. ‘That’s my plan, my old friend. But tell me, Tomasz, what’s the latest with the North Koreans? I assume it’s bad news.’
‘I’m sorry to say they’ve withdrawn the MiG order and gone with the Indians.’
‘I thought they would,’ Kasakov admitted. ‘For all their bluster, those people are scared of their own shadow. It’s their loss, not mine.’
‘If only that were true. That deal was vital for us, not only in monetary terms but for our reputation. It will be a long time before we are trusted again. And who else is there to sell to? How many
conflicts are fought with tanks and jets today? War has changed. This is the era of the terrorist and the guerrilla. Rifles and IEDs are their weapons.’
‘You’re right, of course,’ Kasakov agreed, ‘but I still don’t care. How much money and power is enough?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m retiring.’
Burliuk struggled to respond for a moment, before asking, ‘Since when?’
‘I’ve been thinking about it for a little while, but when I found out I was going to be a father the decision was made for me.’
‘
What?
’
Kasakov stood. ‘Izolda’s pregnant. We’re going to have a baby. Finally.’
Burliuk’s mouth fell open. He struggled with how to respond.
‘Your manners are terrible,’ Kasakov remarked. ‘This is usually the point where you offer congratulations.’
‘Sorry, Vladimir. Congratulations. I’m just shocked, that’s all.’
He stood and they embraced. Kasakov squeezed his friend hard, but Burliuk’s return hug was limp.
‘You’ve taken me by complete surprise.’
They stepped back from each other. ‘Not as surprised as I was, or Izolda for that matter. After the attack, Izolda complained of stomach pains. You see, when the shooting started I threw her to the ground. I thought I must have hurt her. We went to a hospital and they ran some tests.’ Kasakov smiled. ‘But she wasn’t hurt at all. You should see her, Tomasz. She’s so happy, so happy. All she’s ever wanted is to be a mother. Now, she will be.’
‘She’ll make a wonderful mother.’
‘I know. And I’ll do my best as a father. I won’t treat the child any different than I would my own.’
Burliuk’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Did you not wonder why Izolda and I have been without a son or daughter for so long? We’ve never spoken of it, but I don’t believe you haven’t been curious. The reason is that I can’t father children, Tomasz. Of course, I never told anyone. Me and Izolda never even
spoke of it until very recently, though she must have known for years, always afraid to bring it up for fear of my reaction.’
Burliuk was shaking his head. He used his inhaler. ‘If you’re not the father, then who is?’
‘My first thought was that it might be you.’
He coughed. ‘
Excuse me?
’
‘You should know me well enough by now to know I am no fool, my friend. I’ve seen the way you look at Izolda. The way you’ve always looked at her.’
Burliuk showed his palms. ‘Vladimir, I have never,
ever
—’
Kasakov made another dismissive gesture. ‘I believe you. You’re in love with her, I know that. It was just a foolish idea, and one I dismissed quickly. I know Izolda thinks of you like a brother. She wouldn’t betray me with you. Someone else, yes. You, never.’