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“Everything is on schedule?” Volkov spoke into his phone. He was anxious to get things wrapped up, get his money, his daughter and get the hell out of this country.
“Good. Call me when it’s done.”
The sarin had arrived at Nevada without any issues. Not that he expected any. His company transported hazardous chemicals by land, water, and air all the time. He knew exactly what needed to be done, what clearances, paperwork and permits were required. This was the first time bringing sarin here, to the US. And this inaugural mission was being watched closely to ensure it was a success. His father had built this company from nothing, and one hundred percent of his business was legit. Until he had taken over. Anyone checking into VV Transportation would only see high level government and military contracts, with no code violations or complaints. The perfect cover for his added service.
He had begun using the business to transport chemical weapons and drugs worldwide. He didn't care who wanted what, or where it was going. If the price was right, he could make it happen. Bringing sarin to the US, to the town where he lived, was a little close for comfort. He would have preferred some distance, and he had hoped to be back in Russia by now. But this damn custody hearing had delayed his departure. He would just have to be careful. Should anything go wrong, nothing could be traced back to him personally, only his firm. He could plead ignorance and blame employees. He had scapegoats in place. But being this close to the sarin made him more than a little uncomfortable.
This shipment was being bought by a middle eastern terrorist organization with a large cell in California. His other burner phone rang, and he answered, knowing exactly who it was.
“It has arrived?” the buyer asked. He’d done several deals with this man over the past months without any issues. The drug transports had been carried out without issue. The two of them had formed a mutual respect for each other, since they were both getting what they wanted.
“Yes. Everything is on schedule.”
“There has been a small change of plans. I need delivery by Wednesday.”
Volkov tensed. “Why the rush? That might prove a little challenging. It was my understanding I had ten days.”
“Unavoidable change. An opportunity has arisen that is too good to miss. We are changing the party date to Friday. You will be compensated for the inconvenience.”
Shit, the attack was being moved to Friday. Three days before his scheduled custody hearing. If Volkov refused to deliver earlier, he would upset some very important people, damage his reputation, and destroy the relationship he had with this organization, not to mention lose a lot of money.
“Very well. I will make the arrangements.”
“Excellent. I have a feeling this party will be one to remember.”
“I’m sure it will. I will be in touch about the gift.” He was already thinking how to make sure he was out of the country before the attack happened.
Attacks like these were one of the reasons he wanted to take his daughter back to Russia. The war on the US was ongoing, with many countries planning attacks and gaining support. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the US was vulnerable and under a constant threat of attack. He didn’t want his daughter here. She needed to be with him in Russia, where he could keep her safe. He had spent months setting everything up to ensure he could transition his business. Despite living most of his life in Los Angeles, it had never felt like home. He was Russian; it was time to honor his nationality and all it stood for.
But now he had a problem. He needed to get his daughter out of the country by Friday. He couldn't wait for the hearing, but he also didn't want to be accused of kidnapping. Everything had been going so well. He’d spent a lot of time making sure Mrs. Williams was ready for the hearing and would present the case he wanted. Her husband trying to talk to his man this morning appeared to be just what Mrs. Williams had said. A concerned citizen looking out for the children. The car he spotted was registered to his company, and no one had come asking about it. To be safe, he had reported it stolen, claiming it had been gone for a few days.
Then there was Judge Dolan. The video footage of him at the sex club had taken weeks to secure, and the judge would do anything to stop it being made public. Everything was in place, but now he couldn’t use it. He could call his buyer back and say it was impossible to get delivery sooner, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Too many eyes were on this deal. He was the middleman. Being able to adjust to changes would secure future business. He would have to find another way.
After a knock at the door, his trusted number two, Oleg, entered.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” He glanced around the hotel room. It was time to move on. The lawyer had been here. If she decided to blab to someone, he didn’t want to be found. He’d used a fake ID to book the hotel, but you couldn’t be too careful. Volkov nodded and followed Oleg out.
Oleg led him down the stairs to the floor below, then they made their way to the service elevator where he impatiently hit the call button.
“Plans have changed. We need to leave for Russia by the end of the week,” he said as they waited.
“Understood. Anya?”
“Get everyone together at the warehouse. We will discuss the next steps.”
An idea started to form in his head.