Chapter 29

The meeting place of the Fire of Dawn leadership was supposed to be a closely held secret, but Meredith used a technique that reporters in Washington often used to find out where her father would turn up. She asked the staff.

Early in the morning she climbed out of bed and dressed simply in jeans, a t-shirt and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She wandered down to the bottom-floor kitchen and restaurant of the apartments. Speaking the very provincial, familiar Ukrainian she often heard when treating patients in the clinics, she greeted the staff in the kitchen.

A woman with an apron dusted with flour and white curly hair wiped her hands on a towel. She glanced around and approached Meredith like she was in charge.

“Madam, we would be happy to serve you breakfast in the dining room,” she said, addressing Meredith formally.

Meredith lowered her eyes. “I thank you, but I do not have the money to spend. I had hoped you might let me do some dishes to earn some coffee and a sweet roll for myself and my husband.” She put on her most pitiful look and hoped she looked desperate enough.

“I suppose, if you are willing to do some work…” The woman tsked and tilted her head while assessing Meredith.

“I’m not asking for charity, ma’am,” she answered.

“No. No, you aren’t.” She quickly glanced around the kitchen. “There are some pots in the sink that need to be scrubbed by hand. If you finish all of them, I can let you have breakfast with the staff and give you a nice roll and coffee for your husband.”

“I am so grateful,” Meredith said, taking her place by the sink.

She scrubbed the pots, aware of conversations around her. After about a half-hour, the woman came to inspect her work. “These look very good. Go eat your breakfast with everyone, and I’ll make a bag for you to take.”

“Thank you,” she said and went to sit in the large common room with the staff. As she expected, women who worked in the hotel and the restaurant were gathering around the table. There were a few women dressed in uniforms who served as maids or waitresses, and others who wore thick, white cloth aprons and scarves on their heads. She guessed these were the laundresses or back kitchen staff. They brought in bowls of oatmeal and fruit, along with sweet rolls and carafes of coffee and tea. As they served themselves, they talked and giggled, obviously familiar with each other’s company. Meredith was handed a plate, and she quietly listened to the friendly banter around the table as she ate with them. No one went out of their way to befriend her, which was fine because she didn’t want to be noticed too much.

Meredith eavesdropped in while they gossiped and shared news about their lives—so and so was sick, and someone else was expecting. Meredith listened carefully, hoping they would talk about friends who worked elsewhere in the city, knowing that Fire of Dawn’s meeting would probably be big news for the help. She was starting to believe she might not hear anything when one of the girls said something.

“Over at the Palazzo, they have a group of high rollers staying.”

“They always get them there,” another girl whined. “Are they tippers?”

“Ursula says they gave her a good tip after dinner last night. They’re having a big meeting today, and she’s working again,” the first girl continued. “She has to work all day and fetch them drinks and food and stuff.”

“Who are they?” Meredith asked, trying to be unobtrusive.

“I don’t know.” The girl continued chattering. “Ursula said they are some group who supports the fighting in the east, maybe with Novorossiya.”

“I hope they’re not bringing the fighting around here,” an older woman said. “But if their meeting brings in more work, it’s money in my pocket.” Everyone chuckled and agreed.

“Did your friend say how long they were staying?” Meredith asked, sure that she had stumbled on some useful information.

Some of the women eyed Meredith cautiously. Meredith silently winced, hoping she hadn’t seemed too curious. The girl hesitated then answered, “She didn’t say.”

Too much attention. Back off.

Meredith tried to look nonchalant as she took a sip of her coffee and waited for the women to resume their separate conversations around the table. After a few minutes, she turned to speak quietly to the girl who had told everyone about the other hotel. “My mother, she worked in Donetsk—at Petro Vlasenko’s house,” Meredith explained, “I thought the group he led might be here.” She smiled and added coyly, “He was very handsome.”

The girl’s eyes shone with mischief, and she leaned in to share the rumor. “I know there is some business guy in charge, got his money from coal and mining, so I guess it could be him. Ursula did say he was attractive,” she confided.

“You have a lucky friend.” Meredith giggled with her.

Attention turned to other topics until the head woman came back and good-naturedly scolded them to get back to work. As the girls scrambled back to their jobs, the white-haired woman held up a brown bag and cup of coffee in a disposable cup to Meredith. She gave Meredith what seemed was a rare smile, and Meredith thanked her again and headed upstairs to let Kostya know what she had discovered. Although what she heard was rumor, Meredith was sure she had learned Fire of Dawn’s meeting place. Anxious to tell Kostya as soon as possible, she hurried past the glass double doors to the lobby on the way to the stairs. Meredith hummed as she passed, scanning the room to wave to their hosts. What she saw made her stomach turn.

How did he find us?

The blond man, the man who had taken her hostage at the hospital, was there, asking questions to their hosts. She ran to the side of the window where she could look in without being noticed. The lady pointed and nodded at a set of photographs, and the Assassin leaned across the counter listening.

“Oh shit!” she muttered, dropping the coffee and roll, and tearing up the stairs to Kostya. She had forgotten the key, of course, so she insistently knocked on the door, trying not to wake their neighbors. Kostya opened the door, yawning and rubbing the back of his head, and Meredith slipped past him, shutting the door quickly.

“The blond man. The Assassin is downstairs,” she said breathlessly. She began frantically putting the few things she had unpacked back into the suitcase.

“Who was he talking to?” Kostya asked, quickly putting his legs into his jeans and turning his t-shirt right side out.

“The host lady. The one who showed us up here yesterday. She was looking at pictures. Pointing and nodding.” Meredith slipped on the shoulder holster, checked the gun, and put it in place.

Slipping on socks and boots, Kostya grabbed his backpack and looked out the peephole. “Damn, I can’t see anything out this thing.”

“He knows we’re here. What are we going to do?” Meredith asked, starting to panic.

“Meri, this might be a good thing.” Kostya looked around the room, and blew out his breath coolly.

“Being targeted by an assassin is not a good thing.” She looked at him incredulously while slipping on her jacket to hide her holster.

“No, not normally,” he said calmly. “But think. Where will he take us if we surrender, especially if he knows I still have the chip? What better way to infiltrate Fire of Dawn than walking through the front door?”

Meredith’s eyes widened. “It’s one hell of a risk. He could take us to Fire of Dawn or he could kill us on sight.”

“Do you trust me, Meri?”

A part of her wanted to question him, but Kostya’s certainty was enough to set even her mind at ease. He was so sure this would work. His confidence sustained her, and she had faith in his instincts.

“Yes. What should we do?”

“Grab your bag. We’ll head downstairs and meet him, hopefully take him by surprise.” He brushed her shoulder and arm and focused on her eyes. “The key is staying completely relaxed. We can’t show him we’re unsure or nervous.”

“Play it cool.”

“Yes. Complete confidence.”

“I’ve been doing that my whole life,” she assured herself.

Kostya opened the door and looked down the hallway. “Come on,” he said, taking her hand, and they walked to the stairs. Quickly descending, they reached the doors to the lobby, just as the lady hostess was hanging up the phone behind the desk.

“Oh, good! I was just calling your room.” She held up the handset and smiled. “Here is your friend who has been looking for you.”

The Assassin spun around and sneered at them. “Kostya Dychenko.” He reached into his jacket and pulled his handgun out of a shoulder holster. “I’ve been looking for you.”

The hostess’s face melted into shock, as she dropped the phone handset onto the counter and slid down to the floor. Kostya squeezed Meredith’s hand and walked toward the gunman. Kostya extended his other hand. “You have me at an advantage. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“No, I guess you don’t.” He pushed Kostya’s hand away with the barrel of his gun.

“So, you’ve been looking. Here I am. What do you want?” Kostya kept his voice light and calm. Meredith wondered how he was doing it. Her knees were shaking and her heart was beating a million beats a minute.

“I have a contract to fulfill on both of you.” The Assassin smirked at them. He circled the gun, aiming between them. “It promises to be quite lucrative if I am successful.”

“Ah, but I bet the contract is more lucrative if you are able to return a certain computer chip as well.” Kostya smiled widely. “A chip that I have.”

“What do you want, Dychenko?” The Assassin’s eyes shone with obvious interest in the chip.

“I want you to take us to Petro Vlasenko.”

“Oh, I’ll take you there,” he said cynically. “I’ll take you there in a box.”

“But you won’t have the chip,” Kostya said. “You and I both know Vlasenko only hired you so he could get the chip.”

The blond man stood considering, while Meredith spoke to Kostya. “Baby, we know he’s at the Palazzo. Why do we need this guy?”

“How do you know where he is?” the blond man roared, cocking the hammer on his gun. He pointed it at Meredith.

In a swift movement Kostya reached into Meredith’s jacket and grabbed the gun that Will insisted that she have. He rotated on the ball of his foot, aimed and fired at the Assassin’s hand. His gun hit the floor and spun along the tile floor while blood dripped from his thumb.

“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, shaking his injured hand and splattering blood across the floor. His face twisted into an angry frown, and he lunged toward Kostya.

“Unless you want another round through your brain, stay right where you are.” Kostya’s feet were planted, unmoving in the center of the room. He aimed the gun at the Assassin, right between his eyes. The Assassin froze and cradled his hand in his shirt, scowling.

“I’m going to ask you again. Take us to see Vlasenko.”

The blond man sneered and raised his hands, blood running down his right arm. Meredith grabbed a hand towel off a maid’s cart and threw it at him. Kostya kept the gun pointed at him while he looped the towel around his hand.

“Do you have the chip, Cossack?” the Assassin demanded.

Kostya grunted affirmatively. “See, taking me to Vlasenko might be good for both of us.”

The assassin laughed. “You’ve got balls. A short life-span, but balls.”

Kostya spurned his remark and retrieved two zip-ties from the inside pocket of his jacket and looped them around the blond man’s wrists behind his back. Then, holding on the zip-ties, Kostya kicked the back of his feet forcing him to move forward.

As they left, Meredith ducked to the other side of the room, retrieved the dropped gun, and whispered to the hostess to stay down on the floor behind the counter until they were all gone.

“Do you know how to get to the Palazzo?” Kostya asked as he tossed the keys to Meredith and climbed in back with his gun pointed at the man.

“It’s on the center plaza. I shouldn’t have a problem finding it.” Meredith slipped into the driver’s side.

The blond man muttered to himself but said nothing more for the short drive to the Palazzo.