ODESSA, UKRAINE
Omri Sherut was backed against the warehouse wall, anger giving way to a reassuring gaze, as he kept his eyes peering into Chavva’s.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Sherut said. “My men weren’t involved.”
She had met with him on short notice after finding out Tvchenko’s assistant had been gunned down while being watched by Jake Adams. She had a 9mm automatic pistol trained on Sherut’s balls, and she imagined his dick was looking for a place to hide.
Sherut’s huge bodyguard was about to pounce on her, until the Israeli businessman waved him off.
“Who in the hell killed her? And why?”
“I don’t know,” Sherut said calmly. “Probably the same people who killed Tvchenko.”
She thought about that. He could be telling the truth for a change. But why would the Kurds kill off their own puppet? “Tvchenko was developing something for the Kurds, right?”
Sherut shrugged. “That’s what our intel says. He was working some deal.”
“And the GRU?”
“Who knows? Maybe they killed them both. They could have found out Tvchenko was working both sides of the street and took him out.”
She lowered the gun away from his crotch and backed up a step or two. “I don’t think so. Tvchenko was too important to the GRU. They needed his expertise. They wouldn’t kill him.”
“So then it was the Kurds.”
It made no sense. Why would the Kurds recruit Tvchenko only to kill him off? “Do you think the Kurds got everything they needed from Tvchenko?” she asked.
“It’s possible.” Sherut straightened his overcoat and smiled. “What about your friend, Mr. Adams?”
“What about him?”
“How does he fit into this equation?”
She looked over at Sherut’s goon, whose face seemed to carry the same stupid appeal of wonder, as if his brain were too small to muster up more than one expression. “Can we get rid of him?” She shifted her head toward the bodyguard.
Sherut hesitated. Finally, he nodded for his man to leave. “Meet me at the car?” Sherut told him.
When the two of them were alone, Chavva moved closer to the man who was supposed to be her boss. Her face was inches from his, but her gun was poking him in the belly button. “You know more than you’re saying,” she whispered. “What has Mikhael failed to tell me this time?”
He wasn’t one to back down from just anyone, but then Chavva wasn’t just anyone. Sherut’s heart pounded and sweat beaded up on his forehead. “You know the director as well as I,” he said. “He only tells us what we need to know.”
“Bullshit! You two go back thirty years. You know something, you bastard.” She slid her gun to the side and fired a round past his waist into a plywood wall.
He jumped. Then he realized he had not been hit. “What in the hell are you doing? We’re on the same team.”
“We work for the same man,” she corrected. “I’m on no one’s team. The next one goes right through you.”
By now the bodyguard had heard the shot and was running toward them, his Uzi drawn and pointing his way.
She turned the gun toward Sherut’s face and stuck the barrel into his mouth just as he was about to say something. She pointed at Sherut’s bodyguard with her free hand. “I’d stop right there. Unless you want a quick lesson in cranial anatomy.”
The large man skidded to a halt, uncertain what to do.
Sherut tried to say something, but all that came out was a gurgling sound.
She slid the gun out to his lips.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Sherut yelled. “Yosef was right.”
She glared at him when he brought up the name of the assistant director of Mossad. The two of them had collided more than once over the direction of an operation. “So, Yosef has been talking about me? He’s a pig.”
“I’ll let him know the next time we speak.”
She looked over at the bodyguard, who had his Uzi pointing directly at her. She knew he couldn’t fire without the possibility of hitting his boss with a stray round. Those guns were meant to put lead in the air, not for accuracy. She was getting nowhere fast, but she had not really expected him to fold over like a lamb.
“Where’s your other man? His twin?” she said, flipping her head toward the huge bodyguard.
Sherut hesitated. “I had to send him back to Tel Aviv.”
“Is that right?” she asked the bodyguard.
He didn’t answer. He simply stood there with a stupid look on his face. She could tell he wanted to kill her.
She started laughing out loud. Her voice echoed through the empty building. She continued laughing louder and louder. She couldn’t stop herself. It was as if she were back in her small little village again. She was trapped and couldn’t escape. Only her laughter kept her from going crazy.
When she finally stopped, she realized she was curled up on the cold cement floor. The barrel of her gun was pointing directly up her nose. Once again she had failed to pull the trigger. She was still alive. Not a young girl. A grown woman. She leaned up and looked around. Sherut and his man were gone.