VOLOVOI DROVE THE ACURA away from the airport. Took surface roads into Newark, hearing sirens everywhere. The police would be looking for the car, he knew. They’d know the plates as soon as they identified the driver.
This was as bad as he’d expected. The FBI had traced him to the New Jersey yard. If appearances were correct, they had followed the box. They had helicopter support, multiple police agencies. They had planned a sting. They knew a lot.
They had the box. They had the container yard. They had his latest supply of women, the Dragon’s women. The New York women. And now they had Sladjan Dodrescu and his Durango, too.
Volovoi parked the Acura behind a liquor store, hiding it behind a dumpster and an old Chevy stripped bare. Made a call on his cell phone to one of his soldiers. The soldier answered, laughing. It sounded like he was having a party.
“Meet me on Adams Street,” he told the soldier. “Right now.”
The soldier agreed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. Volovoi ended the call and settled into the shadows to wait.
The wind picked up while he waited. Rain began to fall, little drops here and there that foreshadowed the chaos to come. Volovoi took shelter under an awning and stared out at the street, watched the daylight disappear as though someone had switched off the lights. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed. Volovoi ducked away and waited for the soldier.
The soldier arrived in a black BMW. Flashed his lights at Volovoi and pulled over. Volovoi crossed to the driver’s side, opened the door.
“There is an Acura in the alley,” he said. “Keys in the ignition. Dispose of it for me.”
The soldier was a young man. There was a tattoo of a tiger on his neck. He looked at Volovoi, then back at his car, ready to complain. Volovoi fixed his eyes on him.
“Dispose of it now,” he told the soldier. “Dispose of it properly. I will take care of your car.”
The soldier scowled, but he vacated the driver’s seat. Volovoi climbed inside. Closed the door. Turned off the shitty rap music the soldier had blaring, and pulled out his cell phone again and called the Dragon.
“My last shipment is compromised,” he said when the Dragon answered. “I am compromised. If we want to sell our women, we need to move quickly. Tell your buyer to meet me tonight.”