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Moscow, Russia
Thursday, 28 January, 8:23 a.m.
––––––––
If I knew any Russian swear words, I might've used a couple to describe the cold. Next to a tree, I hunched down, watching Oleg Petrov's house through the binoculars. For the first time since I started choosing my own clothes, I wore nothing but white, although my underwear was black. White offers the best camouflage in the harsh Russian winter. Aidan sat with his back against a boulder and stared at his mobile phone; he monitored Petrov's movement inside the house. The previous day Dmitry installed cameras in every room when Petrov had gone into town.
Who would I punish first, Max Jefferson, or Oleg Petrov? Countless children had disappeared since Petrov took up residence in this part of the world. I stared at the snow-covered ground and wondered what secrets lay buried beneath our feet. The closest neighbours too far away to hear screams.
"Aidan, once the snow and ground thaws, we need to dig up this place. I can feel them, they're here, screaming from the graves he put them in." I pressed my gloves to my eyes – before the tears froze on my face – and lowered my sunglasses.
Aidan stared up at me. "Are you sure, or do you just want more reason to hurt him?"
A crushing sadness had filled me as I walked from the Dartz to where I took up position next to the tree. Death and destruction hung heavy in the frigid air. "It sounds crazy, but I feel them. Not their spirits, ghosts, or whatever you want to call it. I sense pain, and fear. Soul crushing fear, but not mine."
Months later, my intuition proved correct. The bodies of forty-six children were returned to their families, not all of them Russian. Those the local authorities couldn't identify received a pauper's burial. We kept records of everything, hoping to one day answer the mystery surrounding their identities and how they ended up in Jefferson's vile clutches.
Aidan dropped his mobile phone into his pants pocket as he pushed to his feet. Rowan jogged past me. "Are you ready?"
I nodded, despite the unknown fear lodging in my throat. It made way for excitement when Aidan said, "It's time."
––––––––
Oleg Petrov climbed out of the shower and seized his vocal assault on my ears. He couldn't hold a note to save his life. Without making a sound, I laughed. His life couldn't be saved. It lay at my feet, and I would crush him for the cockroach he is. That's not a fair comparison, cockroaches are remarkable creatures who can survive a nuclear bomb.
I sat on the carpet next to Petrov's bed, waiting. My SIG rested on my lap, my finger not on the trigger.
Petrov strode in, reached into his cupboard, and removed what he thought would be his clothes for the day. The jersey, shirt, and vest wouldn't cover his back for long. As he bent forward to pull on his underwear, I wanted to pour drain cleaner into my eyes. The years hadn't been kind to his body. I saw more of Petrov than I've ever seen of my husband.
My finger moved to the trigger. I waited.
Petrov started singing again, and I snapped. He was going to get tortured today, not my ears. "Hello, Max."
He spun around, lost his footing, and fell backwards against the cupboard.
I laughed, anyone in my position would've; the look on his face comical.
It's a glorious sight, the moment a predator realises they are now the prey.
Jefferson spoke in Russian, I shrugged. "Max, there's no need for the charade."
He spun around and dug through his underwear. Laughter bubbled out of the darkened corners of my battle-scarred soul. "Looking for this?" I lifted his Makarov pistol, which lay on the floor next to me.
Jefferson moved forward but stopped as I shot to my feet. The barrel of my gun pointed at his chest. "Don't do anything stupid, Max. You and I are going to have some fun first. Well, I am. You'll learn what true fear is. When someone else holds all the power. Just as you did to countless children."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Why do they always say that?
I holstered the SIG at my right thigh and crossed my arms over my chest. It flashed in his eyes. It always does. A split second when they think they stand a chance of surviving.
He lunged forward. I sidestepped, grabbed the back of his neck, and smashed his face into the wall. Jefferson sank to his knees. For good measure, I kicked him in the ribs with my steel point boot.
"Come on, Max, I expected better from you. Get up!"
He did; blood streamed from his broken nose. Aidan emerged from behind the bedroom door, picked up the towel and tossed it at Jefferson's face.
"Downstairs, Jefferson. Now." I motioned with my head towards the door.
Jefferson pushed the towel to his nose and mumbled in Russian.
I kicked his left shin. Blasphemous words spilled out of his mouth. My fist connected with his left eye. "I will not tolerate blasphemy. Understood?"
He nodded, and as he made his way out of the bedroom, I stretched my fingers behind my back. The human skull is hard, and some people's are thick.
We reached the open plan dining room. "Chair. Sit." He did. "No. Other way around."
Rowan bent down and secured my prisoner's hands and feet to the back legs of the wooden chair. In this position Max Jefferson will atone for the things he did, the lives he destroyed.
En route from the airport, I had reminded the Walker brothers I would do whatever it takes, and if they didn't have the stomach for it they could wait in the woods. All three of them stood in the room, waiting for me to release the darkness I held caged for far too long.
I walked to the kettle and made myself a cup of coffee. None of the men wanted one; neither did the predator who sat tied to the chair. The dining room table offered the perfect place to sit while I drank my coffee. Aidan's backpack lay next to me, holding all the toys I needed for my playtime with Jefferson.
"I have friends in high places," said the man tied to a chair.
"Good for you." Aidan joined me where I sat sipping the vile coffee.
I threw the mug into the sink, it shattered sending coffee onto the curtain and floor. I swung my legs back and forth.
Jefferson stared up at Aidan. "The Lieutenant General of the Moscow Police will be here any minute, we're going ice fishing. He's going to rape her in front of you, cut her into pieces, and then he'll cut your heart out. Maybe I'll ask him to do the same to the two idiots standing behind me and save you for last."
Aidan and I turned to each other, and I gestured for Commander Walker to go ahead. "I see your Lieutenant General and raise you one Bratva, and one president."
Jefferson sat motionless, except for the blood trickling from his nose.
"Don't worry, Maxi, your friend Volkov will be here soon enough. Didn't your parents ever tell you to make friends with the intelligent children? Volkov isn't very clever, no sir, he isn't. Kept his stash of footage of children being raped on hard drives in his home safe. By the looks of it, footage recorded in this very house."
The darkness paced; she doesn't take kindly to threats of rape. Her every move made my muscles twitch. I'm grateful she lives inside me, otherwise I wouldn't be able to do what I do.
From outside came the sound of a car door slamming shut. Jefferson, the idiot, smiled, thinking his friend arrived to save him from big bad me.
The front door opened, sending in a burst of cold air. A local Fortius operative walked in carrying a plastic bag. Marika reached into the bag and threw the content on the floor. It rolled and rolled. It stopped in front of Jefferson's chair.
"You were right, Volkov was on his way here. The polite thing to do is to say hello to your friend, Max."
Jefferson stared down at his friend's decapitated head. The saying 'heads will roll' came to mind as Volkov's head had come barrelling across the wooden floor. It's funny, so I laughed. Aidan didn't look at me, neither did Liam or Rowan. The anger of four Walkers converged in that room. We share the same hatred towards those who hurt children, those who should die excruciating deaths for the destruction they cause.