Shadow Zone (10 page)

“Calm yourself, son.”

“Son?” Kirov produced a knife and stepped closer to Charlie.

Driscoll blocked his path. “Don’t touch him. You’ll have to go through me first.”

“That isn’t necessary.” Kirov reached over Driscoll’s head and cut the tape from Charlie’s wrists.

The young man pushed Driscoll out of the way and hurled himself at Kirov. “You son of a bitch!”

Kirov smoothly grabbed Charlie’s wrist, twisted it behind his back, and pushed him facedown on the sofa. “I thought you would have had enough of this by now.” Still holding Charlie down, Kirov pocketed his knife and looked over at Driscoll. “I didn’t know you had a son. He doesn’t look much like you. He’s a good-looking kid, but lacks your sense of style.”

“He’s young. He has time to develop. But he’s mine all right. I was surprised, too, when
I
found out two years ago.” Driscoll looked down at Charlie. “Ease up, boy. This man means us no harm . . . I hope.”

Kirov let him go, and Charlie jumped to his feet and started toward him.

Driscoll shook his head. “I said enough, Charlie.”

The young man’s eyes never left Kirov as he spoke. “You don’t actually trust him, do you?”

“Believe me, if he was one of Brogan’s men, I’d be dead now. And so would you.” Driscoll walked over to his son and pulled the remaining tape from his feet and wrists. “Relax, Charlie. It’s just another ass trying to recruit me for a job.”

Charlie snorted. “Another one of those.”

Kirov’s brows lifted. “Do you really get that many offers?”

Driscoll looked up with a faint smile. “Of course I do. I was the best.”

Kirov could see the pride in that smile. It didn’t surprise him. Driscoll had developed his thievery into an art form. “I know. But evidently no one is perfect. You went to prison.”

“I served my time. Four and a half years in prison for the only job they could pin on me. It was awful, but in a way it has given me more freedom than I ever would have imagined. I don’t have to hide that entire part of my life anymore.”

“That
entire
part . . .”

Driscoll shrugged. “Every man has his secrets. I imagine you have one or two, Mr. . . .”

“Kirov.”

“Kirov. Ah, I’ll wager that’s not even your real name.”

“It’s real to me, even if it’s not the name I was born with. It’s the name I’ve been using for the past few years. It’s the name my friends use.”

Driscoll nodded. “That’s real enough. You obviously know who I am, and this young man is Charlie Diehl.”

Kirov nodded to each of the men. Charlie was still glowering at him as if he’d like to cut his throat. He might prove difficult. It would be too bad if he had to eliminate him from the equation. “New start? Just hear me out, then I’ll walk away from you if you’re not interested.”

“You’re wasting your time.”

“It’s my time to waste. I need your help, Mr. Driscoll, and I guarantee it’s not like any proposal you’ve ever been offered.”

“I sincerely doubt that.” Driscoll smiled. “What is it? A payroll job? Jewels from a family estate?”

“Nothing like that. I wouldn’t insult you. I know I’d have to hand you a challenge.”

Driscoll studied him thoughtfully. “Talk.”

“What if I told you that this involves at least two governments, one of the world’s richest men, and quite possibly millions of lives? You hide out in cheap flats because you’re afraid to surface and let anyone know where you are. You know as well as I do that Brogan’s killers will find you eventually. You’re a dead man walking.” He paused. “What if I told you that I could settle your problems with the Brogan crime family? Then what if I give you enough money for a world cruise before you settle down in a lucrative consultant’s job with one of the world’s biggest security companies?”

Driscoll stared at Kirov for a long moment, then slowly settled down into the easy chair. “I would say . . . I’m listening.”

CHAPTER
5

“You’re insane, Hannah. you know that, don’t you?” Melis followed Hannah through the narrow passageways of the
Copernicus,
which was eerily deserted due to the party still under way on the top deck. The music thumped from above as the party had once again kicked into high gear after the government agent’s departure just ten minutes earlier. “All right, I was a little suspicious, but I never wanted you to go trekking after Kirov.”

“I have to do it. We found what could have been the most important discovery in the history of this site. You said it was exactly what you’ve been looking for after all these years. You want that piece back, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean you need to—”

Hannah stopped and turned toward her. “You heard what that government agent said. There’s something going on with Marinth that we don’t know about. People are getting killed. And whatever it is, Kirov is in the middle of it. He’s the key. When I find him, I’ll make him tell me what’s happening and get that piece back.”

“You’re making it sound far too easy. The government is already looking for him. What makes you think you can do any better?”

“I know Kirov.”

“How can you say that? Evidently you didn’t know him all that well. You had no idea he was even involved in this.”

Melis was right, Hannah thought angrily, she didn’t really know Kirov. He was his own man and had more secrets than the sphinx. He had only allowed her into a tiny part of his life. What right did she have to think that she understood anything about him?

And why did it hurt so much to have that realization hit home? “No, I didn’t know. He must have found out something that spurred him into exploding like this before I left for Marinth. That’s why he took off.” Her lips tightened. “Whatever it is. I want to throttle him for not telling me.”

Melis grimaced. “Maybe he knew you would interfere with his plans.”

“And I may have. You can be sure when I find him, I’ll make sure he tells me exactly what those plans are.” Hannah turned and continued walking toward her cabin. “Dammit, I feel as if he used me. He wouldn’t have even been interested in your Marinth if I hadn’t told him that I was taking a job here. I thought—” She broke off. “He always has to go his own way. If he found out something about Marinth, why couldn’t he share it?” And why was she even wondering about Kirov’s motives? Hadn’t she learned he was an enigma? “He’s a loner and would never willingly open to anyone. I led him here into your world. If he’s responsible for hurting you or your project in any way, I’m going to know about it. I’ll stop it, Melis. There aren’t many worthwhile dreams in this world. No one is going to destroy yours.”

Melis stood in the doorway of Hannah’s cabin and watched her as she threw a suitcase on the bed. “You don’t need to do this. My husband, Jed, has resources. He has private investigators on his company payroll. Let me call him.”

“Don’t do it.” Hannah said quickly. “If those investigators managed to find Kirov, and he felt threatened, they might end up like those two men in Venice.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about Kirov’s nasty habit of killing people?” Melis asked quietly.

“Do you think those Intelligence men who were here tonight were squeaky clean? They all live in a dark world. It’s not our world, but I don’t think Kirov would kill unless he was threatened or if he—” She stopped before she said wearily, “But I’m not sure about anything about him. All I know is that Kirov helped me track down the man responsible for Conner’s death. I never would have been able to do it without him.”

“I can see how that would make you want to believe in him,” Melis said gently. “But this is something else entirely. You don’t know what’s going on here.
You
could end up like those men in Venice.”

“I won’t.”

“Where would you even start?”

“I’d use the same method as your husband’s private investigators. I’ll start with his friends and associates.”

“I thought you said he was a loner. Do you know any of his friends?”

Hannah thought for a moment. “Just one.”

New York City

Hannah leaned back in the taxi, gazing at the buildings on Lexington Avenue as the driver argued with someone into his Bluetooth headset. Only at that very moment did Hannah wonder what she would do if she wasn’t successful here.

Typical, she thought. No safety net, no backup plan. She’d left herself no option but to succeed, which was just the way she liked it. That’s why she had flown to New York instead of just picking up the phone. If the response wasn’t immediately favorable, a phone call could be too easily terminated with the mere press of a button.

Terminated. Funny word, Hannah thought, considering who she was there to visit.

Eugenia Voltar was in her late teens when she had served as an agent in the waning days of the KGB, where she cultivated a reputation for eliminating her enemies with lethal efficiency. But she had also rebelled against the increasingly corrupt higher-ups in her agency, and by the time the Soviet Union had dissolved, she was finished in the intelligence community. More recently, she had found great success as a facilitator for American corporations wishing to make inroads into the Russian economy. Eugenia and her network of contacts routinely overcame obstacles that stymied armies of lawyers and corporate negotiators. Eugenia was the only friend of Kirov’s that Hannah knew, and if she wasn’t willing to help, the trail could go cold mighty fast, Hannah thought.

The taxi turned onto East 51st Street and stopped in front of the converted brownstone that served as Eugenia’s office. Hannah paid the driver and walked up the few steps to the front stoop. She rang the doorbell, and after a minute the door swung open and a pair of long, slender arms suddenly wrapped around her.

“Hannah, what a wonderful surprise!” Eugenia squeezed her for a long moment before letting go. Her smile was luminous, and along with her soft brown hair and youthful skin, Eugenia looked more like a popular sorority girl than a successful international businesswoman. Hannah could not even begin to reconcile Eugenia’s warmth and youthful looks with what she knew about the woman’s former life as an intelligence agent.

Before Hannah could utter a single word, Eugenia grabbed her wrist and whispered in her charmingly half-Russian, half-British accent. “I need your help, Hannah.”

“
My
help?”

“Yes. There’s no time to explain, but I need you to wait in the foyer for sixty seconds, then walk up the stairs to my office and scream at me.”

Hannah stared her. “Scream at you? Scream what?”

“Listen carefully. I need you to say, ‘Okay, you bitch. We have a deal. And we’ll waive the Apraxin clause!’ ”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. And I need you to sound angry at me. Then walk down the stairs, slam this door closed, and wait in that coffeehouse down the street. When you see my visitors leave, you can come back.”

Hannah repeated under her breath, making sure she had heard Eugenia’s instructions correctly. “Okay, you bitch . . . We have a deal, and we’ll waive the Apraxin clause.”

“Perfect. Remember, sixty seconds.”

Eugenia ran upstairs.

Hannah stepped into the foyer, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Everything connected to Eugenia was always unexpected but not this strange. Oh, well, go with the flow.

After a minute, she marched up the stairs, swung open the oak office door, and yelled her line to Eugenia and three startled men in dark suits. She slammed the door and hurried back down the stairs.

She left the building, walked down to the coffeehouse, and was deciding whether to order something when she saw a limo pull up in front of Eugenia’s office. The three men she’d seen earlier hurried down the steps and climbed into the car, which then sped down the street.

By the time Hannah made it back to the brownstone, Eugenia was waiting on her front stoop. “
Magnifique!
A wonderful performance, Hannah!”

“I’m happy you’re so pleased. What did I just do?”

“You just helped me close a two-billion-dollar deal, that’s what. A Russian automotive company is looking for a transportation partner, and those gentlemen were trying their best to give them the short end of the stick.” Eugenia shrugged. “I may have hinted that there was another suitor, and I suppose they jumped to the conclusion that you were negotiating on their competitor’s behalf. In any case, they were in a much greater hurry to close the deal after your appearance.”

“That’s how billion-dollar business deals are done?”

“
Two
billion. The numbers may get bigger, but that doesn’t mean the players are any smarter.” Eugenia waved her inside. “Come in. You made me a lot of money today. That’s worth at least a cup of tea and some pastry.”

Hannah followed Eugenia up two flights of stairs to what the woman called her “real” office, which was the polar opposite of the second-floor office’s dark woods, granite countertops, and heavy furniture. Although she used that imposing room for meeting clients, her upstairs “real” office, with its shag carpeting, beanbag furniture, hammock, punk-rock posters, and ever-blaring stereo, was where Eugenia actually did most of her work.

Eugenia turned down the stereo and slid out of her tailored jacket. Her white blouse, which had appeared as buttoned-down conservative as her pin-striped suit, was now revealed to have sleeves covered with psychedelic designs. Noticing Hannah’s surprise, Eugenia held up her sleeves. “Like this? An artist in Greenwich Village did it for me. He’s quite talented, yes?”

Hannah nodded. “Yes. And quite possibly under the influence of some strong hallucinogenics.”

“Ha! You might be right. Or not. Artists can also live in their own world which has nothing to do with drugs. At any rate, he was very charming.” Eugenia poured two cups of tea and nodded to a pair of canvas folding chairs in the corner. “Have a seat and tell me what brings you here.”

Hannah took the cup and sat down. She sipped the tea and took a deep breath. Time to lay it all out. “Kirov.”

Eugenia’s face tensed. “Is he all right?”

All the humor was gone from her expression. Eugenia and Kirov had been friends for years, and it was a friendship based on hardship and danger. Hannah knew that Kirov had saved Eugenia’s life at one time, and it was probable that she had returned the favor. At first, Hannah had thought they were lovers but, as Eugenia said, sex would have gotten in the way. In their world, friendship could be much more precious. “What’s happened to him?”