Better Off Dead: (Victor the Assassin 4) (12 page)

The morning was cold and damp after the night’s downpour. Puddles reflected the diseased sky above. Andrei Linnekin climbed out of his silver custom Bentley. He sipped from a tall takeaway cup of coffee – latte with a double shot of hazelnut syrup. Two of his men were already on the pavement, one facing each way. He was glad to see they were alert. They had better always be alert. He paid them enough to ensure they never blinked. He was a powerful man. One of the handful of men that were trusted by the bosses back in the old country to run London. That brought him enormous wealth and influence, but also made him a prime target for all manner of criminals. Two more of his men exited the Bentley after him.

‘You and you,’ Linnekin said, pointing. ‘Stay here and keep an eye on my baby.’ He stroked the car’s bonnet, revelling in the squeak of skin against the polished paintwork. ‘I want her kept safe. She’s delicate.’

He crossed the road. Traffic was almost non-existent in this part of the city, especially at this time of day. The street cut through an abandoned industrial complex. It was huge. A chemical plant of some sort. Linnekin didn’t know the specifics and he didn’t need to know. What mattered was it had closed down over a decade ago. The whole neighbourhood was industrial. There were no residences or other commercial properties. It was as close to isolated as anywhere in the godforsaken metropolis could be. The complex was the Russian’s favourite place in which to conduct the occasional torture or execution. His men could work over some poor hapless soul for days on end without concern of discovery.

A chain-link fence surrounded the complex but there were several holes made by junkies looking for somewhere to shoot up or smoke rock. They didn’t do so any more. Not since Linnekin’s men had put half of them in the hospital and the other half in the morgue. Word of these things spread. There were safer places to get a fix. The first of Linnekin’s men held open one such hole for his boss to climb through.

Linnekin wore designer jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. The shirt had three buttons unfastened at the top to show off the solid gold jewellery glinting among his chest hair. His thick wrists were similarly adorned. His open-toe sandals kept his feet cool and dry. There was no sun for his sunglasses to filter but he rarely took them off. He was unarmed because he was always unarmed. He didn’t need to carry a piece when all of his men did.

He made his way across the wasteland lying between the fence and one of the complex’s factory buildings. The ground was made up of uneven concrete slabs, cheaply laid and now cracked and warped. Grass had sprung up along the joins. There was a bad smell in the air: old chemicals and rust. He checked his watch. He was five minutes late and counting but he didn’t care. Linnekin owned the city. People waited for him, not the other way around. Sometimes he would be deliberately late to meetings with men of no small worth to show them he feared no one; to show them in turn who should be feared.

One of his men walked ahead, the other behind, footsteps loud on the hard ground. He passed a perforated oil drum, blackened by soot. Litter had collected along the factory wall. London was a dirty town, made filthier by its inhabitants, who didn’t give a shit about it. No pride, Linnekin thought, tossing his mostly empty coffee cup to the ground.

The lead man stepped through an open doorway. There was no door. Linnekin followed. He took off his sunglasses. The smell of chemicals was metallic and pungent. He’d never grown used to it. Concrete rubble from a collapsed ceiling covered the floor. The hole above was huge. Steel reinforcement bars hung down from around the opening, twisted and rusted. Linnekin heard the scurrying of rodents as he walked through the rubble, careful where he placed his feet. He should have thought about that and worn better footwear. He wore sandals as his feet would sweat even in a snowstorm. He glanced up through the hole in the ceiling. A square shaft rose straight upwards until it disappeared into the darkness. Water dripped on his head. Linnekin cursed and rubbed his hair. He cursed again, brushing his palm against the thigh of his jeans to wipe off some of the styling product.

In the adjoining room, he followed his man through a gap in a wall. Sunlight found its way into the room through smashed-out windows. Glass crunched underfoot. More rooms, more rubble and Linnekin passed through another doorway without a door and into a large open area. There were holes in the floor and ceiling. Their footsteps echoed. He noticed he could only hear two sets of footsteps and glanced over his shoulder. There was no one behind him.

He stopped and turned around. After ten seconds, nobody had come through the doorway. Linnekin called for the lead man to stop. Now the only sounds he heard were his own breathing and the crunch of grit beneath his sandals. He moved back and through the doorway. The corridor on the other side was empty. He tried to think when he’d last seen or heard the man following him. He didn’t know.

The corridor was long and dark. Skylights ran along the ceiling but were caked in grime. Piping ran along one wall. Linnekin peered into the gloom.

‘
Peta
,’ he called.

No answer. He’d better not be taking a leak. Idiot had the bladder of a thirteen-year-old boy. Linnekin called again, louder. Still no answer. He went back through the doorway.

‘Get Peta on your cell,’ Linnekin said to his lead man. ‘Find out —’

His man wasn’t there. The room was empty.

He sighed. ‘What is it with everyone wandering off?’ he shouted. ‘You stay at my side, remember? How can you protect me when I can’t even see you?
Morons
.’

There was no reply. Heads were going to roll for this. He was in no mood for this kind of incompetence. One day it might cost him his life. His men knew that. They knew better than to leave him. He paid them never to…

His eyes widened as he began to understand. His pulse quickened. His breathing grew faster. He swallowed.

Linnekin panicked. Now, he knew what was going on. This was it. This was the day when every brutal act he’d committed was answered for. This was the day he looked his brother in the eye before he was murdered. Linnekin knew it because that was how he had gained his position of power, influence and wealth – by killing men who believed him unquestionably loyal.

He fumbled for his gun before remembering he hadn’t been carrying one. He never carried one. The days when he needed to had long passed. He tugged his phone from a pocket.

His hands were shaking so much it took three attempts to enter the correct code. Why did he even have it locked? Who was going to steal from him? He found the number for one of the two guarding the car.

The line connected after a few seconds but the reception was terrible at the centre of all that concrete and metal.

‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Can you hear me? Get in here now.’

There was a garble of static in response.

‘Get in here now,’ he shouted. ‘I need you.
Hurry
.’

The call disconnected.

No one was going to save him. He had to save himself. He turned around to rush towards the doorway and run for his life back the way he had come. But he didn’t move because a man stood in the doorway.

He was tall and wore a charcoal suit. His hair was short and black. His eyes were just as dark. The expression was blank and unreadable but Linnekin knew what kind of man he was staring at and who stared at him in return. He recognised a killer when he saw one.

The man’s hands were down at his sides. He stood casually. No weapons. No aggression. But implicitly threatening by nature of his presence. He may have been unarmed but Linnekin feared him no less than if he held a silenced pistol in his right hand.

Linnekin couldn’t take his gaze from the blank face and cold black eyes. ‘Who are you?’

The man in the suit stepped forward. ‘Who I am is not important.’

Linnekin glanced around, desperately. There were people nearby – his men outside and Moran and his crew already here. They had to be close. He could call for help, but what good was it going to do? If the man had got this far then what had happened to them? Linnekin thought of the two men by the car and was furious at himself for leaving them to protect his precious Bentley. Would they hear if he screamed? Would they get here in time if they did?

Then Linnekin realised what had happened and felt like a fool. ‘Moran isn’t here, is he? He sent you to kill me.’

‘No one sent me.’

‘Then he gave me up, didn’t he?’

‘Without much of a fight, I have to say.’

Linnekin exhaled. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt thick and coarse. ‘What are you waiting for then? You believe I’m scared of you? Do you think I’m going to piss myself? I’ve been expecting a bullet my entire life and lived twice as long as I ever believed.’ He stood straight and squared his shoulders. ‘I won’t beg.’

‘I don’t want you to beg.’

‘Then why don’t you tell me what you do want with me? You won’t get any money. I’d rather die now than give you the change in my fucking pocket.’

‘Keep it,’ the man said. ‘I don’t want your money. But there are two things I do want. The first is for you to watch your language.’

‘You can’t be serious.’

‘I bet you your knees that I am.’ The man adjusted his suit jacket to show the grip of a pistol protruding from his waistband. ‘Shall we find out if I’m serious?’

Linnekin caught his response before it left his lips. He then shook his head. ‘The second thing?’

The man stepped forward again. There were about three metres between them. He said, ‘I want answers.’

‘And what do I get in return?’

‘You’re in no position to negotiate.’

‘I’m a businessman,’ Linnekin said. ‘I’m always negotiating. The moment you told me you wanted something, you opened negotiations. You want answers. I want to walk out of here. So let’s cut a deal.’

‘Now I know where Moran learned his technique. Okay,’ the man said. ‘I like your style. Let’s deal. You tell me what I want to know and I let you walk out of here.’

‘What about my men?’

‘They’ll have headaches.’

Linnekin considered, then said, ‘Okay. Then we have a deal.’

‘Good. I want you to start by telling me why you’ve been trying to kidnap Gisele Maynard aka Gisele Norimov.’

‘Who?’

The man didn’t answer.

Linnekin said, ‘Who?’ again, then: ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’

‘I can see that,’ the man replied, a note of surprise in his voice. ‘You had Blake Moran’s men watch her apartment for over a week. Last night, they broke in expecting to find her. They intended to kidnap her. Instead, they found me.’

‘I heard Moran lost some men. Good. A small price for betraying me to you, but I appreciate the sentiment. You have my thanks.’

‘Was Moran telling the truth about you asking him to kidnap Gisele?’

Linnekin shrugged. He let his shoulders relax. ‘When I ask someone for a favour I’m not asking; I’m telling them they have no choice. I didn’t remember the girl’s name at first because I didn’t pay any attention to it.’

‘Explain.’

‘I’m not into kidnapping. Such things are beneath me. Do I look like I’m struggling to pay the bills?’

‘Then why?’

‘Because, like Moran, I was asked to. Why are you even here if Moran’s men found you and not the girl?’

‘My reasons are my own,’ he said by way of an answer. ‘What is the name of the man who asked you?’

‘Who said anything about a man?
She
didn’t give me her name.’

‘A Russian?’

Linnekin shook his head. ‘British.’

‘Describe her to me.’

‘Tall. Well dressed. Blonde. Green eyes. All business. I’d never met her before or heard from her since.’

‘Why did you take a risky job from someone you didn’t know? You said yourself that you don’t need the money.’

‘Because it wasn’t in my interests to turn the job down.’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Because I know what the f — I know what I’m talking about. This woman knew all about me. She knew my name. She knew the names of my men. She knew which town I was born in and when I came to this shithole of a country. She could name every front company we use and had the licence plates of every truck. She even knew when my next shipment was due to arrive. You don’t say no a person like that. Just like people don’t say no to me.’

The man considered this. His expression didn’t change.

Linnekin added: ‘Whoever she is, she’s dangerous. I could tell that in the same way I can tell you are too. Only you’re a very different kind of animal to her. You’re more direct. She’s smarter.’

‘I doubt that.’

Linnekin smirked. ‘Really? She got me to do what she wanted without even having to threaten me.
And
I left with a smile and wishing her well. You, on the other hand, I’ll spend every waking moment of my life hunting down.’

The man said, ‘A brave thing to say when you’re at my mercy.’

‘We made a deal, remember? I’m talking so when this is over I’m walking. That was the deal. Your word is on that. People like you and I are the worst of the worst and we know that. We’re happy with that. But we keep our word. That’s the only humanity we have left. I’m telling you everything straight, just like I said I would. You’re going to let me go, just like you said you would. We didn’t negotiate about what happens later. Don’t pretend you thought this would be the end of it. You know very well that I can’t let this lie.’

‘Fair point,’ the man said. ‘What were you supposed to do when you had Gisele in your possession?’

Linnekin smirked again. He was starting to enjoy himself. ‘Nothing. She told me she’d know when I had Gisele.’

The man in the suit remained silent.

‘So,’ Linnekin continued, ‘she’s watching me, isn’t she? She’s watching my whole network; my men; everything we do. Everyone we meet. Which means she’s now going to know all about… you.’ Linnekin grinned. ‘Still think you’re so smart, tough guy?’

Victor returned to the old plumbing supplies warehouse a little after eight a.m. He entered through the door leading into the office annexe and followed the sound of grunting into the main warehouse space. Dmitri was working out – squats – with an improvised barbell weighted with sand-filled buckets and chains. Yigor spotted him. Both men were drenched in sweat. The air stank.

Dmitri noticed him and walked over. ‘Why have you got blood on you?’

Victor explained in as few words as possible.

Yigor grinned. ‘I knew it. You
are
Mr Bad Man.’

‘What’s the next move?’ Dmitri asked.

Victor didn’t answer. He made his way back into the office annexe and upstairs to the first floor where he used a landline to call Norimov.

When the line connected, Victor said, ‘Do you know a man named Andrei Linnekin?’

‘No. Who is he?’

‘A Russian mob boss. He had a drug trafficker named Moran put a crew out to look for Gisele. They were the guys who I encountered in her apartment. They’d been looking for her for the past week.’

Norimov said, ‘Why did he tell Moran to kidnap my daughter?’

‘Because he was too lazy to do it himself.’

‘I don’t recognise the name Linnekin. I would have thought when my rivals were identified they would be men I knew; men I had broken bread with. He must be following orders for someone back here.’

‘Not necessarily,’ Victor said. He summarised what he’d been told about the blonde woman with green eyes.

‘So she’s just another link in the chain.’

‘I’m not so sure. According to Linnekin, she knew everything about him and his operation.’

‘Because she was told it by the bosses. Linnekin may be a boss in London, but he’ll answer to someone in Russia. That’s how it works.’

‘Then why didn’t they go straight to Linnekin? Why trust the job to a foreigner only for her to go to a Russian? Unless things have dramatically changed in recent times, the Russian mob isn’t exactly trusting of outsiders. Or women.’

‘So who is she and why is she after me?’

‘Smart enough not give Linnekin her name. Smart enough to convince him to take on a job he neither needed nor wanted. She wants Gisele, but couldn’t do it herself. Either because she doesn’t have the resources – which can’t be the case if she knew so much about Linnekin – or she didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Linnekin created a buffer between her and the kidnapping.’

‘Why?’

‘Again, I don’t know. She’s careful. She wants things done in a particular way. She didn’t expect Linnekin to palm the job off to someone like Moran. She won’t be happy when she finds out he did and it’s exposed her.’

‘How will she find out? Don’t tell me you didn’t kill him.’

‘We made a deal. If nothing else, I’m a man of my word. Besides, he’s not my enemy. He’s a middleman. If I killed him, I would need to kill his entire network. And I don’t have the time for that.’

‘If he finds you —’

Victor said, ‘You of all people should know that I’m more difficult to kill than I like to appear. Linnekin’s smart. He won’t come after me so soon. He knows nothing about me. He’s going to enjoy being alive first.’

‘You’re taking a huge risk, my boy. That’s most unlike you. Better not to take any chances and kill Linnekin.’

‘When, and only when, I deem it necessary,’ Victor said. ‘But for now I have more pressing matters.’

There was silence on the line for a moment. Victor could hear the heavy footfalls of Dmitri and Yigor climbing the stairs nearby.

Eventually, Norimov said, ‘If this woman you speak of doesn’t have Gisele, why is she missing?’

‘I’m starting to think that maybe she’s not.’

‘What?’

‘Something doesn’t make sense. Gisele has been missing for a week – the same length of time since you were threatened – but if they have her they’re not saying so. If they don’t have her, where is she?’

‘That’s what I want you to find out.’

‘There’s a chance they’ve already come after her.’

‘I know that. You don’t have to keep telling me.’

‘I don’t mean they have her.’

‘Then what do you mean?’

Victor said, ‘What if they tried to kidnap her before you received the photograph? Because then you wouldn’t be able to warn her. That way, the first you’d know about the threat was when they told you they had your daughter or when you opened a box and found her head inside.’

‘What are you getting at?’

‘It’s a hypothesis,’ Victor said. ‘Perhaps this woman tried to kidnap Gisele and failed. When she couldn’t locate her, she went to Linnekin for help, to look for her in London. At that point you were sent the threatening photograph because the attack had begun and she didn’t realise you two were estranged. The photograph was sent so you would know who was behind the kidnapping attempt, so that you would divide your forces to protect Gisele. Which is what happened. Maybe the attempted kidnap happened right outside Gisele’s building. She was too scared to return home and so is staying elsewhere. There was a gap in her wardrobe that would fit a medium-sized wheeled suitcase.’

Norimov thought about this for a moment. ‘But where would she go?’

‘How would I know? I’ve never met her. I know next to nothing about her. I don’t know who her friends are or who she would stay with.’

‘Please let it be so. You’ve got to find her before they do. Please, Vasily. You must protect her.’

‘I’m aware of the objective. But she might turn up in a few days blissfully ignorant of what’s been going on in her absence.’

‘I’ll pray that she does,’ Norimov said. ‘Some more of my men are on the next plane to London. An old friend in the FSB came through and managed to get them visas.’

‘I don’t want any help. I’m only using Dmitri and Yigor so I can keep an eye on them.’

‘You’re in charge, Vasily. My boys can sit on the sidelines until you need them.’

Victor hung up. He stood in the gloom, thinking. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t believe everything he’d told Norimov. But he wasn’t sure what he did believe.