Fires of Kiev Page 21

  “The blond man. The Assassin is downstairs,” she said breathlessly. She began frantically putting the few things she had unpacked back into the suitcase.

  “Who was he talking to?” Kostya asked, quickly putting his legs into his jeans and turning his t-shirt right side out.

  “The host lady. The one who showed us up here yesterday. She was looking at pictures. Pointing and nodding.” Meredith slipped on the shoulder holster, checked the gun, and put it in place.

  Slipping on socks and boots, Kostya grabbed his backpack and looked out the peephole. “Damn, I can’t see anything out this thing.”

  “He knows we’re here. What are we going to do?” Meredith asked, starting to panic.

  “Meri, this might be a good thing.” Kostya looked around the room, and blew out his breath coolly.

  “Being targeted by an assassin is not a good thing.” She looked at him incredulously while slipping on her jacket to hide her holster.

  “No, not normally,” he said calmly. “But think. Where will he take us if we surrender, especially if he knows I still have the chip? What better way to infiltrate Fire of Dawn than walking through the front door?”

  Meredith’s eyes widened. “It’s one hell of a risk. He could take us to Fire of Dawn or he could kill us on sight.”

  “Do you trust me, Meri?”

  A part of her wanted to question him, but Kostya’s certainty was enough to set even her mind at ease. He was so sure this would work. His confidence sustained her, and she had faith in his instincts.

  “Yes. What should we do?”

  “Grab your bag. We’ll head downstairs and meet him, hopefully take him by surprise.” He brushed her shoulder and arm and focused on her eyes. “The key is staying completely relaxed. We can’t show him we’re unsure or nervous.”

  “Play it cool.”

  “Yes. Complete confidence.”

  “I’ve been doing that my whole life,” she assured herself.

  Kostya opened the door and looked down the hallway. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand, and they walked to the stairs. Quickly descending, they reached the doors to the lobby, just as the lady hostess was hanging up the phone behind the desk.

  “Oh, good! I was just calling your room.” She held up the handset and smiled. “Here is your friend who has been looking for you.”

  The Assassin spun around and sneered at them. “Kostya Dychenko.” He reached into his jacket and pulled his handgun out of a shoulder holster. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  The hostess’s face melted into shock, as she dropped the phone handset onto the counter and slid down to the floor. Kostya squeezed Meredith’s hand and walked toward the gunman. Kostya extended his other hand. “You have me at an advantage. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

  “No, I guess you don’t.” He pushed Kostya’s hand away with the barrel of his gun.

  “So, you’ve been looking. Here I am. What do you want?” Kostya kept his voice light and calm. Meredith wondered how he was doing it. Her knees were shaking and her heart was beating a million beats a minute.

  “I have a contract to fulfill on both of you.” The Assassin smirked at them. He circled the gun, aiming between them. “It promises to be quite lucrative if I am successful.”

  “Ah, but I bet the contract is more lucrative if you are able to return a certain computer chip as well.” Kostya smiled widely. “A chip that I have.”

  “What do you want, Dychenko?” The Assassin’s eyes shone with obvious interest in the chip.

  “I want you to take us to Petro Vlasenko.”

  “Oh, I’ll take you there,” he said cynically. “I’ll take you there in a box.”

  “But you won’t have the chip,” Kostya said. “You and I both know Vlasenko only hired you so he could get the chip.”

  The blond man stood considering, while Meredith spoke to Kostya. “Baby, we know he’s at the Palazzo. Why do we need this guy?”

  “How do you know where he is?” the blond man roared, cocking the hammer on his gun. He pointed it at Meredith.

  In a swift movement Kostya reached into Meredith’s jacket and grabbed the gun that Will insisted that she have. He rotated on the ball of his foot, aimed and fired at the Assassin’s hand. His gun hit the floor and spun along the tile floor while blood dripped from his thumb.

  “Son of a bitch!” he screamed, shaking his injured hand and splattering blood across the floor. His face twisted into an angry frown, and he lunged toward Kostya.

  “Unless you want another round through your brain, stay right where you are.” Kostya’s feet were planted, unmoving in the center of the room. He aimed the gun at the Assassin, right between his eyes. The Assassin froze and cradled his hand in his shirt, scowling.

  “I’m going to ask you again. Take us to see Vlasenko.”

  The blond man sneered and raised his hands, blood running down his right arm. Meredith grabbed a hand towel off a maid’s cart and threw it at him. Kostya kept the gun pointed at him while he looped the towel around his hand.

  “Do you have the chip, Cossack?” the Assassin demanded.

  Kostya grunted affirmatively. “See, taking me to Vlasenko might be good for both of us.”

  The assassin laughed. “You’ve got balls. A short life-span, but balls.”

  Kostya spurned his remark and retrieved two zip-ties from the inside pocket of his jacket and looped them around the blond man’s wrists behind his back. Then, holding on the zip-ties, Kostya kicked the back of his feet forcing him to move forward.

  As they left, Meredith ducked to the other side of the room, retrieved the dropped gun, and whispered to the hostess to stay down on the floor behind the counter until they were all gone.

  “Do you know how to get to the Palazzo?” Kostya asked as he tossed the keys to Meredith and climbed in back with his gun pointed at the man.

  “It’s on the center plaza. I shouldn’t have a problem finding it.” Meredith slipped into the driver’s side.

  The blond man muttered to himself but said nothing more for the short drive to the Palazzo.

  Chapter 30

  When Meredith pulled up to the Palazzo, any hopes they had of avoiding a scene disappeared. The busy driveway was full of employees and guests.

  “So much for a subtle entrance,” Meredith said. “Do you want me to try to find another door?”

  “No. Our best bet is going through the lobby.” Kostya tightened his grip on the zip-ties as the Assassin shifted to get a better view. “They will know we’re here before long regardless.” In Kostya’s mind he tried to strategize like Petro Vlasenko. Their public arrival wouldn’t hurt them, and it might work to their advantage. Vlasenko would know they had arrived immediately, and besides, his cronies were less likely to fire into a crowd.

  Meredith pulled up to the valet stand, jumped out of the car, and circled around the hood, trading the keys for a ticket. Behind her, Kostya “unpacked” the Assassin, pulling him out of the car by his zip-tied and towel-wrapped, blood soaked wrists. He kicked him forward like a handcuffed criminal, causing a stir among the bellboys and gaining the attention of several guests gathered on the patio outside the lobby. Kostya pressed the pistol, hidden by his jacket folded over his arm, into the Assassin’s back.

  “Don’t even think that I won’t fire with everyone here,” Kostya growled.

  “I want to be done with this as much as you do, Cossack,” the man snarled in Russian. “Petro is not going to let this insult go.”

  “I can’t wait to discuss it with him,” Kostya remarked sarcastically. He stopped for Meredith to catch up, and they entered the large lobby. Marble tiled floors led to the main counter where several clerks were filling reservations. Guests sat in smaller sitting areas set with velvet couches and decorative armchairs flanked by modern steel and glass tables. Along the sides of the room were pillars connected with wide arches decorated with gold ornamentation that Kostya realized housed cameras. Although installed for hotel secur
ity, there was no doubt that Vlasenko had access to the feed. Vlasenko’s eyes were everywhere.

  Meredith ran ahead as they walked over to one of the house phones and Kostya held the phone to the blond man’s ear. “What room is it?”

  The Assassin scoffed and hissed.

  “He’s in the suite on the seventh floor. Room seven hundred,” Meredith stated, returning from the registration desk. Kostya looked at her with confusion. She smiled. “Hey, when all else fails, ask.”

  Kostya nodded and shoved the Assassin across the center of the lobby. As they passed, several people looked over newspapers and watched over their coffees, interested in the drama unfolding with the three of them. Kostya continued, unconcerned, but Meredith followed them nervously.

  “How are we going to do this, Kostya?” she whispered. “We’re attracting too much attention.”

  Kostya grinned. “You’d attract attention anywhere, dushen’ka.” He grabbed the Assassin’s arms and pushed him toward the elevators. “In this case, drawing a little attention will alert our host of our presence. Just follow me.”

  They entered one of the two elevators, and just before the doors slid shut, they were joined by a conspicuous rock-of-a-man dressed in a black suit. Quiet, clean, and deadly, he fit the stereotype for the Russian Mafia almost exactly. He assessed the zip-ties on the Assassin’s wrists and frowned. He was no doubt one of Petro’s men. Kostya pushed the button for the seventh floor, and wasn’t surprised when the man inserted his key card for access to the restricted floor. The elevator rose slowly, but no one spoke until they stepped out on the top floor into a foyer outside the Grand Suite.

  The foyer was like the point of a triangle, with hallways to access the guest rooms stretching out at forty-five degree angles from the elevator doors. There was a rose-colored tufted bench facing the elevators, and a couple silk, potted trees, but little in the décor set this hotel apart from the many others built in the 1990s.

  Stepping out of the elevator, two more guards, dressed in black suits, came forward. They immediately recognized the Assassin, and pulled and cocked their guns on Kostya and Meredith. Kostya turned so they knew he had a gun pointed at the Assassin’s back.

  “Calm down, guys. We only want to talk to Vlasenko.” Kostya stared at the two guards and slowly raised his hands while the Assassin ducked behind the men and disappeared down the hall. Meredith winced as he escaped, but Kostya didn’t flinch. They were inside. They didn’t need him anymore.

  “What makes you think he wants to see you?” the taller, darker man rebuffed him.

  “We have something that Vlasenko is really going to want.” The guards looked at each other, but did not lower their weapons. “Go on. Call him. Let him know that Kostya Dychenko and Meredith St. Claire are here.”

  “I thought we were avoiding Petro,” she whispered to Kostya in English.

  “Slight change of plans.” Kostya flashed his crooked grin. “Trust me?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Meredith rolled her eyes and frowned. “I don’t like the way the blond one is staring at me.”

  Kostya scrutinized the guards whispering to each other. The blond started circling Meredith, who was on his left, his gun still raised.

  “You want to see Vlasenko? Slide your gun over here,” the larger, darker man ordered.

  Kostya hesitated, assessing his options. Two men against one he could manage, but there were likely other men just steps away. The risk might be worth it if he were here alone, but if anything happened to Meredith, he would never forgive himself.

  As if sensing the dilemma, the blond stepped over to Meredith, hooked his arm around her neck, and put his gun right to her head. Meredith struggled against him, but he just held tighter. Kostya instinctively lunged toward her, but pulled back when the darker man cocked the pistol still aimed at his head. The guard sneered, seeing Kostya flinch. Whimpering, Meredith’s eyes flashed with concern. He couldn’t get a good shot at the blond without Meredith in the line of fire, and he’d never hit both of the guards before the darker man fired.

  “Shut up. Stay there and don’t try anything, or this pretty thing will pay the price.” The guard stroked Meredith’s hair and sniffed her. “Maybe I’ll take a taste of her before I shoot her. I bet she’d be sweet and juicy, no?” The two guards laughed, and Kostya fought to keep control while Meredith struggled to get free.

  Kostya blew out his breath and slowly lowered his hands, his pistol hanging from his finger. Smoothly he slid the weapon across the floor with sufficient force that it glided not only away from him, but past the two guards as well. He stepped back with his hands in the air.

  “Let her go. I will kill you if you hurt her.” Kostya zeroed in on the blond like a hunter stalking his prey. The guard loosened his grip on Meredith slightly. “Just call in there. Tell Vlasenko that Kostya Dychenko and Meredith St. Claire are here, and I have the chip.”

  “No need, Alexei. Vlad. I’m already here.” Petro Vlasenko’s voice was commanding but low as he stepped into view. A tall, lanky man with silvering hair, Petro strode in wearing a navy-blue suit and red silk tie. The guards immediately straightened, evidence of their loyalty and to Vlasenko’s rank. Kostya could feel Vlasenko’s stifling charisma swirl throughout the space until the air around them became thick—unbreathable without using conscious thought. Visibly tensing, the two guards kept their weapons fixed on Kostya and Meredith, but deferred to the man as he entered, giving plenty of space for him and his two guards.

  Kostya thought the years after the Kiev protests had prepared him—he distanced himself from Petro’s betrayal by quitting Spetnaz-Alfa, by going to university, by choosing a simple life. Now he realized a millennium would’t have been enough to separate him from the terror that was Petro Vlasenko. He instinctively stepped in front of Meredith as Petro approached them.

  “What is this?” Vlasenko demanded as soon as he walked into the space. “Imbeciles. Do you know that this is a U.S. Senator’s daughter you have your gun pointed at?” He gestured wildly, pushing the guard and the gun away. “Damn. What a goat rodeo this is.” Sweeping over to Meredith, he grasped her hand and led her to sit on the bench across from the elevator. “I am so sorry, my dear,” he said with over-the-top concern.

  Kostya growled and charged toward them, only to be stopped by the guards lifting their weapons. Kostya raised his hands and stepped back.

  Vlasenko rose from the bench and moved toward Kostya. Making a show of sizing him up, he circled Kostya with an amused glint in his eye. With arms outstretched, he stopped in front of him.

  “What? No greeting from my favorite little Russian?” He laughed at himself and moved up and tapped him on the cheek. “It’s been years, Kostya. Have you missed me?”

  Kostya frowned and turned away.

  “So, I have to know. What did you, the dirty Cossack, think when you found out your precious computer work was for me? Did you get physically ill, Kostya? Did you get angry?” Vlasenko baited.

  “We need to talk, Petro.” Kostya spoke directly, not playing with the nonsense. “I think we can help each other.”

  “Ha. That’s not likely,” Vlasenko shot back. “I’m still trying to clean up the mess of components you left for me in Kiev. But first, let’s relive some memories. Happier times, so to speak.” Vlasenko paced around Kostya, coming behind him before he spoke.

  “Do you ever think about the day you betrayed the Spetnaz and your country?” He circled Kostya and stood behind him, taunting him with his question.

  “I am no traitor.” Kostya didn’t even flinch. “My Ukraine doesn’t execute their own civilians for having an opinion. My Ukraine doesn’t murder to silence the opposition.”

  “You’re still harping on that, are you? Rights. Freedom. People’s voice,” Vlasenko sassed, then started to pace. “Enemies of the state must be stopped by any means necessary!” Vlasenko shouted, and then pasted a sickly smile on his face. “You know my brother has not been able to enter the Ukraine since yo
ur betrayal. So much for your ‘freedom’.”

  “How is Stas?” Kostya blinked stoically, zeroing in on the man’s weakness.

  Vlasenko stopped and spoke just inches from Kostya’s face. “You haven’t earned the right to even speak his name.”

  “Maybe so, but I have an offer that both of you might like.” Kostya gestured back down the hallway toward the suite. “I’d prefer to talk about it privately. I assume your suite is secure?”

  “Of course it’s secure.” Vlasenko frowned. “You’re not the only one with a technical mind around here. In fact, what makes you think we haven’t already solved the problems you left us?”

  “If they were solved, you would be preparing four missiles, not just one.” Kostya stared down Vlasenko, and Vlasenko’s jaw clenched. Kostya took a step toward the hall. “Now, shall we?”

  “Miss St. Claire?” Vlasenko held out his hand to Meredith. Under Kostya’s narrow gaze, Meredith politely took his hand to help her up, but moved up next to Kostya. Petro said a few things to the guards in Russian, and one man hurried down the opposite hallway. The other guards continued to flank them.

  “He instructed the guard to find medical care for the Assassin. The others are watching us,” Kostya quietly translated for Meredith. Meredith nodded. “This is going to be the tricky part.”

  They followed Vlasenko into the business suite, Kostya and Meredith shadowed by the guards. In the center of the large room was an oval-shaped conference table surrounded by leather chairs. On the sides of the room, the hotel had set up water and coffee service and had supplied a stocked bar. Several people, dressed in business suits or military regalia, were sitting in clusters around the table or standing at the sidebar pouring drinks. Petro instructed the guards to lead Kostya and Meredith to the side of the room, and as they entered, the others stopped and scrambled to their places. Vlasenko cleared his throat and addressed them all.