Dmitry's Closet (36 page)

     "What the fuck just happened," he asked rhetorically, coughing again.

∞♥∞

     The bomb had not been completely successful. While it had blown up the front of the restaurant and had the place set aflame, the center of the restaurant and the back where the men had been seated was only moderately destroyed.

     Dmitry pulled himself up off the burning floor and crawled to his son, who had been blown into the wall by the blast. He crawled over several of his men and five of his councilmen who were now dead or unconscious from the blast to Anatoly. He picked the boy up quickly, gathering him in his arms without any effort, then threw a tablecloth over his head. The smoke billowed up and filled the restaurant and large blasts could be heard as flammables exploded throughout the building.

     Dmitry knew that he would not be able to save everyone. He kicked and screamed at the men who had survived to flee for their lives. As he passed through the corridor to the secret back entrance, he stepped over Nicolai and Max who had tried to make their way back up to the surface. Dead or not, he would leave them there to burn.

     Hurrying, he and a few of his men made their way through the dark smoke. With Anatoly still in his arms, he kicked open the door that led from the women's bathroom into the utility closet. It led them into another dark room that was housed in the neighboring building. They closed the door behind them and hit the lights. It was stockpiled with munitions.

     Dmitry laid Anatoly on the ground and went to a refrigerator to grab water. He opened the bottles quickly and poured them over his son's face, wiping the soot from his burns.

     "Anatoly!" Dmitry screamed, shaking him violently. "Anatoly!"

     The young man moved around slowly. His eyelids fluttered.

     "Wake up, boy," his father demanded.

     The crystals of Anatoly's eyes emerged from his slits finally. He looked up at the ceiling and gasped for the clean air of which his lungs had been deprived. Grabbing his ribs, he tried to sit up.

     "What happened?" he asked, pulling off his jacket.

     "We were ambushed."

     "Ivan?"

     "Who else?" Dmitry stood up, relieved that Anatoly was seemingly alright. "Can you get about?"

     "Yeah, I think so."

     "Good, then grab a few guns and follow me. I know where he's headed. We don't have a lot of time."

∞♥∞

     Ivan's men were already in position. The bomb had done what it was supposed to do. Stun Dmitry's men before the slaughter. They hit the stairs of the abandoned apartment building in a single line, guns pointed and lights shining. Their feet in cadence, they came out of the front of the building across the trolley tracks and ran across the street.

     Police pulled up, meeting them head on. Blue lights lined the street with loud sirens blasting. Fire trucks pulled down onto the fire-blazed cobblestone. Before the police could respond, they saw the men. Going to their holsters, shots rang out.

     Ivan's men split into two distinct lines, shooting large high-power automatic weapons. The blasts from their weapons sparked the dark lane like fireworks.

     Police officers ran behind their cars. Shooting came from both sides; police dodged as the men made their way into the burning building.

     They had one mission. To clean house. Kill Dmitry.

     Kill Anatoly.

     On top of the roof of the old apartment building was one sniper. A slender blonde man with a slender nose and dimple in his chin. He spoke little English and detested all things American. A Ukrainian gun-for-hire, he knew the entire routine all too well.

     He pulled his black cloak over him and watched through his infrared as the men made their way across the street. Slowly, he slipped his finger onto his trigger and breathed in. As he breathed out, he pulled the trigger and hit a female police officer in the head. The second shot hit a male officer in the throat. They dropped quickly, causing the officers beside them to scatter. He smiled and pulled the cloak further over him. He would pick them off all night.

     The police officers looked at the tops of the building, pointing and calling on their radios for backup. Fear mixed with their adrenaline. Over the doors of their white Dodge Chargers, they shot their futile firearms at the men in black tactical gear and Kevlar.

     One man dropped, shot in the leg by a police officer. The one in front of him released a large burst from his shoulder-balanced, rocket-propelled missile launcher directly into the large sea of police cars. Fire and screams erupted. Grabbing the wounded man off the ground, Ivan's team proceeded.

     Agosto was on his radio ordering up a SWAT team to the location immediately but knew from experience that he had to get into the top of the building where the sniper was.

     After he pulled Sorrello from the car and put him safely in the doorway of a dark building, he fumbled with his keys and opened the trunk, where he retrieved a large bullet-proof vest and gun and ran across the street to a neighboring building by the sniper.

     Finding the fire escape, he jumped up and grabbed the cold stairs. They came down with a thud. Looking around, he climbed them carefully. Within minutes, he was at the top of the stairs. Gun pointed, he kicked opened the door and headed up to the roof.

∞♥∞

     Dmitry and his men could not hear Ivan's men as they entered the restaurant, but they could see them on the monitors. They came through the flames with masks, shooting everyone who crawled about trying to get out. They were searching for him, determined to find him, even in the flames. He would have stayed and battled it to the death with the cowards, but he had to think of his son. It was his job to protect him now.

     Dmitry spoke to the men spoke in Russian. Calmly, they cocked their weapons and checked their gear. He had been smart enough a few years back to purchase bullet-proof vests and jackets. While he never knew if they would come in handy before, he was thankful for them now. He typed in a detonation code into the security pad on the wall and ordered the men out. They had no choice now. The bomb would explode in less than three minutes, finishing what his brother had started.

     Quickly, they headed out of the back of the abandoned building and loaded into their cars, barely missing the police, who were headed down the opposite alleyway to cover the rear of
Mother Russia.

     "All is lost," Anatoly said, looking out the window as the bodyguards drove.

     "No, all is new," Dmitry assured him. "Head to my house. Ivan is going after Royal next."

     "We should get you out of the city, sir," one of the bodyguards suggested.

     "Take Anatoly if someone should go. My place is by Royal now." He looked over at Anatoly.

     "No. I go with my father," Anatoly said reassuringly.

∞♥∞

     Agosto was quiet as he leaped between buildings to surprise the sniper. But the blast from the last explosion helped give him a distraction. It rocked the entire street, burning alive all the people that remained in
Mother Russia
and injuring countless more outside.

     The sniper stood up to look in sheer confusion. That was not in their plans. He spoke into his earpiece and began to quickly breakdown his gear.

     Hiding behind a large vent, Agosto held his gun close to him as he waited for the man to pack away his gun. The rain started to fall on the already dreadful night. The cold air quickly turned icy slush. How he wished to be anywhere else but here. As he heard the man's footsteps, Agosto stood up and pointed his gun.

     "Stop! You're under arrest. Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!"

     Immediately, a police helicopter emerged from the darkness with its lights shining on the rooftop. The wind whirled around the two men as they stood face-to-face. Seeing that he had little alternative and no will to die for Ivan, the sniper smiled and did as Agosto had instructed. Phase two of Ivan's destruction had already begun anyway.

∞♥∞

     Royal's stomach turned over and over as she lay in her bed. Something was not right. She could feel it. Without success, she had tried to call and text Dmitry several times, but it went straight to voicemail. Unable to rest, she sat up and turned off her television. Cory was down the hall using the computer. She would have him run down to
Mother Russia
to get her something to eat and indirectly check on Dmitry. She slipped on her house shoes and closed her robe tight.

     As she was about to open the door, Cory knocked and came barreling past her.

     She smiled. "You were reading my mind. I'm starving. Would you mine..."

     "Not now, Royal," Cory ordered. He peaked through her curtains out over the property. "Turn that light off."

     "What's wrong," she asked, finally noticing the gun in hand. "Cory, what the hell are you doing with that gun?"

     "There's been an...accident." Cory turned to her.
"Mother Russia
was just blown to shit. Dmitry's dead."

     "What!?" Royal's heart sank. "Oh my God!"

     He cut her off. "No time for that, Royal. Get dressed quickly. I've got to get you and that baby out of here."

     "Where will we go?"

     "I need to get you to the airport. The plane is waiting for you there to take you to Prague."

     "The airport? But..."

     He grabbed her shoulders. His virility evident for the first time. "Get dressed." His voice was husky and masculine, completely different from the Cory she had known before.

     "I'm not going anywhere with you until you tell me who you are!" She looked into his eyes.

     "I don't have time to explain all that to you. If you don't want to die, get dressed!" He released her.

     Royal ran to the bathroom with tears in her eyes and grabbed a pair of jeans. She slipped them on without closing the door and grabbed a sweater from the dirty clothes hamper. Not bothering to put on her boots, she slipped back into her house shoes and grabbed her purse.

     "Where's your other bag?" Cory asked, looking for the bag full of money Dmitry had given to her earlier that day.

     "What other bag?"

     "Get the money, Royal. You'll need it. Don't forget your passport."

     She ran to the other side of the bed and grabbed the bag. With a look of total disgust, she followed him out in the hallway where two bodyguards waited for them with guns and ammo.

     "I guess you were a part of this whole thing," she said accusingly of Cory.

     "Not now, Royal. There are more important issues right now, like getting you out of here alive."

     She looked around shook her head.
Everything that happens in the dark must at some time come to the light,
her adopted mother used to tell her. Well, the light at the Meldov house was blinding her.

     They ran quickly down the hall. She clutched the bag close to her. Her heart pounded as they hit the marble staircase. Guns out, they headed towards the garage.

     The men were in front of her and behind her, guarding her from whoever had gotten Dmitry. She couldn't believe it. Someone had killed him. Ivan? Dear God. He had warned her. She cried at the thought. She never even got a chance to say goodbye.

     "Their already here!" a man screamed, coming from around the corner shooting.

     "Head back!" Cory shouted, grabbing Royal. "Upstairs! Upstairs!"

     The men turned and headed back through the corridor. Royal screamed and ducked as Cory pushed her to run. She dropped the heavy bag of money and fled. The hundred dollar bills spilled onto the ground in large, endless bundles and blanketed the stairwell.

     Bullets whizzed past her impacting the wall as she ran up the stairs in front of Cory. Adrenaline pumping, she slid into the wall as she took cover. Cory shot back at the men behind him and followed her.

     "Run, Royal. Get back to your room!" he screamed. "Get to a phone and call 9-1-1."

     She ran as fast as her feet would take her to her room and closed the door. She locked it quickly. Grabbing the phone off the nightstand, she dialed the police.

     Time seemed to slow as the phone dialed. She could hear the shots as they got closer. A man screamed. It sounded like Cory? Tears ran down her face. Shaking, she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. Trying to pry open a window, she waited for the operator to answer.

     "911. What's your emergency?"

     "There are men shooting inside of my house. Someone is trying to kill me!" she said, hearing her bedroom door fly off the hinges. She pushed against the window again, breaking her acrylic nails against the pressure. She cried out in pain and fear.

     "Please help me!"

     "Police are on the way. Where are you in the house?"

     "Third floor. In the master bathroom."

     The doorknob turned violently. She pushed back in the corner by the window with Dmitry's razor blade in her hand.

     "Hurry," she whispered. "They're going to kill me."

     Suddenly, the door was kicked open. Instinctively, she wanted to cover her face but forced herself to meet her attacker head on.

     Royal breathed heavily, trying hard to fight the tears that ran freely down her face. She held the razor out—determined not to give up without a fight.

     Ivan strolled in the bathroom alone with a large automatic weapon in hand and a clever smile on his face. His size was more intimidating than ever now. He wore a black turtleneck and a pair of black tactical pants that tucked into black steel toe boots. He made eye contact with her and licked his lips.

     Royal swallowed hard. She wanted to meet her end with some dignity. Wiping the wet tears from her face, she took a deep breath. Her nostrils flared, she stood up a little straighter.

     Ivan walked up to her, biting his lip and looking her over. His gun was no longer pointed. She was not a threat, just his prize. Reaching for her, he felt the sharp razor slice his face. He smiled as he caught her wrist, blood marking her hand.