love.” Tam’s voice had a metallic ring. “Sweet, isn’t it?”
“I give them six months,” he predicted darkly.
“Ding dong, you’re wrong. They broke the six month barrier a while back. They’re working on eight months.”
Nick shook his head. “Tick tock, tick tock.”
“Come on,” Tam murmured. “This is a party. These are your friends. Laugh, Nikolai. Smile. Even I manage that, in my brittle way. Fake it. Medicate yourself if you must. You’re a cigarette hole burned into the fabric of the universe.”
“I could leave.”
“Don’t go,” she murmured. “I might be able to cheer you up.”
Every muscle in his body went still. “With what?”
Her smile faded to an impassive mask. “Do you want to die young, Nikolai? Or do you want to linger in an old folks’ home?”
Excitement blasted like a chill wind over the landscape of his consciousness. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened, his skin prickling coldly with a mix of hope and dread. “What have you got?”
She stared at him. “An express ticket to hell.” She waited for a beat. “Don’t look so eager. You make me feel guilty.” She nodded her head towards the side garden, filled with dark, unlit lumps of topiary. “Let’s talk.”
Their feet crunched on the white gravel path. She led him to the deserted gazebo. He tried to wait for her to speak first. If he showed too much eagerness, Tam would just play him like a cat with a mouse.
She waited him out. “What have you got?” he finally snapped.
“Not much,” she said. “Rumors, whispers, favors. Possibilities. You know Pavel Cherchenko?”
His jaw clenched. Oh, yeah. He knew Pavel. Pavel was one of the men who had almost certainly supervised Sergei’s torture and murder.
“Met him a few times in Kiev, when I was undercover,” he said. “Arms deals. One of Zhoglo’s lieutenants. A real shithead. What about him?”
“I know the woman who runs the agency that supplies Pavel with his biweekly blow job when he’s stateside,” Tam said. “She owes me a favor. A big one.”
“What kind of favor?” Nick couldn’t help but ask.
Tam smiled blandly. “Her life, among other things. The last time the girl serviced Pavel, he was all upset because one of his key men had shot himself. Pavel has a problem. He talks when he drinks. Anyway, looks like something big is coming down. He needs someone trustworthy, with perfect English, to take care of housing and security details.”
Nick’s mind raced. “Something big? Housing? For who?”
“How the fuck would I know, Nikolai? That’s for you to find out. So, in the interests of getting you definitively killed and removing this damn stone from my shoe once and for all, I asked Ludmilla to recommend you, my friend.”
“Me?” He frowned at her. “How…”
“Your alter ego, actually. Arkady Solokov,” she said.
“How do you know about Arkady?” he demanded, outraged. His arms-trafficking undercover persona was a deeply buried secret.
Tam rolled her eyes. “So? Shall I give her Arkady’s number?”
“Fuck, yeah.” Nick was dazed. “Tam, how is it that you have all these contacts with the sex workers who service the Russian mob?”
“None of your business. Don’t push your luck. I should probably go into hiding as soon as your taillights disappear, now that I’ve mixed myself up in your suicidal bullshit. What a fucking bore.”
“Aren’t you in hiding already?” he asked.
“It’s a matter of degree,” she grumbled. “I’ll have to stay on the move, leave my comfortable house, my studio, my business. I may even find it necessary to make myself unattractive.” She shuddered with distaste. “Be warned, Nikolai. Milla is doing this as a favor to me. If you fuck up, and she gets hurt, I will cut your throat.”
“I understand,” he said. “I just want to know if—”
“There is nothing else I can tell you,” she said crisply. “This conversation is over. Do not ask me for anything else. And keep in mind, brokering arms deals undercover is one thing. Getting up close and personal with Zhoglo, as Arkady, is going to be very different. If you don’t have the guts to do whatever Zhoglo might ask of you, you’re dead. And if you do have the guts, you’re damned. Think about it before I give Arkady’s cell number to Milla.”
“I’m thinking. I thought,” he said promptly. “I’ve decided. I owe you, Tam. If you ever need anything from me—”
“You still don’t get it, do you? I haven’t done you any favors. I’ve just cut your life short by about fifty years.” She glanced at the glass in his hand. “Depending on how hard you’d drink, of course.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with those fifty years anyhow.”
She sighed out a long breath, pressing her slender hand against her midriff. The look in her eyes mirrored his own.
Cold, wind-whipped wastes. Secrets in the shadows. Rocks and hard places.
“You want to do me a favor?” Her voice was low. “Do the world a favor. Kill Zhoglo. Don’t just spy on him. Don’t just hand him over to the law. Put a bullet through his brain stem at close range.”
He thought about Sveti. “Tam, I—”
“Kill him if you can. If you can’t, then God help you.”
She turned, and disappeared into the gloomy shadows.
Nadvirna, The Ukraine
Vadim Zhoglo slowly sipped the fine brandy from the crystal snifter in his hand and gazed out at the snowy peaks of the Carpathian mountains. “Transport details for the first shipment are in place, Pavel?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man replied stolidly. “Everything’s arranged.”
Zhoglo turned to look at him. “And you can vouch for each one of your people this time? No more surprises, like six months ago?”
Pavel’s hand darted to the collar of his suit, tugging to make space for his large and lumpy Adam’s apple to bob and twitch.
That was his answer. Again. Zhoglo closed his eyes. “What has happened this time, Pavel?” he asked with deceptive gentleness.
“Nothing serious,” Pavel hastened to assure him. “But one of the men in place in Puget Sound had to be, ah, replaced.”
“Killed?” Vadim frowned. “How is this possible?”
“Suicide,”
