CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

 

Ivan Volkov liked it when his enemies ran.

He actually preferred it.

Because it gave him a chance to chase them down before their slaughter.

In Russian, his surname meant ‘wolf’, and it was certainly fitting for someone like Ivan. He preyed on the weak, waiting for them to make a wrong move before he pounced.

In the case of Bobrinsky, he had a good business with plenty of assets, but he also had an avalanche of mounting debt. In a moment of weakness, he had accepted a loan from Volkov with ridiculous terms in order to pay for an experimental treatment for his wife. When that had failed, he had been left with nothing: no wife, no money, and no options except to sell everything he owned.

Despite his penchant for violence, Volkov was a businessman who needed a steady stream of cash to run his criminal empire, so he had waited patiently as Bobrinsky sold whatever he had for as much as he could in order to pay off his debt. Initially, he had little trouble making his payments, but eventually, it had become harder and harder to maintain the pace.

And Volkov knew it.

Sadly for Bobrinsky, he owed money to more than one criminal. In a business like his, he was constantly making deals for hard-to-find items with his long-standing clientele. He would wire them half of the money up front, and then pay the rest once an item was delivered and authenticated. Although he stayed away from drugs and weapons, some of his items needed to be smuggled into or out of Russia—particularly rare collections or pieces of art with suspicious provenance—and in those cases, he needed to pay the smugglers as well.

He didn’t fear them as much as Volkov, but without their services, his business would cease to exist, so he did what he believed he had to do: he paid them first.

But when Volkov found out, he was furious.

He viewed it as a slap in the face.

Bobrinsky had paid his deliverymen before he’d paid him.

Technically speaking, Bobrinsky hadn’t done anything wrong. He could do whatever he wanted with his money as long he didn’t default on his bi-monthly payments to Volkov.

Still, the slight wouldn’t be forgotten.

The instant Bobrinsky did something—anything—to violate the terms of their agreement, Volkov would make him pay for his transgression.

And he would pay for it in blood.

 

◊                      ◊                      ◊

 

When Bobrinsky reached the top of the stairs inside the circular tower, he grinned with delight. After so many years of dreaming about it, he had finally made it.

His children had beaten him by several steps and were running from window to window, trying to figure out which view they liked the most.

After making her decision, Angelina stuck her nose against the glass in order to see the ancient city below. She didn’t care about the handprints or germs on the window. Those things meant nothing to someone her age. All she cared about was getting a better view.

Sasha was staring at a hot-air balloon that was floating above the trees. It was the only thing in sight that was higher than he was. Written on its side were two words in English: BALLOON TALLINN. He quietly sounded out the words and proudly knew what they meant.

Bobrinsky chose a window of his own and marveled at the view. In the distance, he could see the port where they had arrived earlier that morning. It hardly seemed like the same day. They had done so much in so little time it almost seemed impossible.

And what a day it had been.

Perhaps the perfect day.

Just what his family needed to move on from its past.

 

◊                      ◊                      ◊

 

Unfortunately, Bobrinsky’s past wasn’t ready to let go of him.

At least until he paid what he owed.

Volkov’s henchmen had monitored Bobrinsky as he had gone about his day. The crowds in Old Town had kept him safe as he roamed the cobblestone streets, but as the afternoon had dragged on and the crowds had started to thin, they knew it was only a matter of time.

Volkov smiled an evil smile when he saw his prey in the tower window. He had killed people all over Eastern Europe but never in a place like this.

It would be a slaughter he would never forget.

 

◊                      ◊                      ◊

 

Bobrinsky was getting ready to tell his children about their move to Estonia when he heard someone on the stairs. He turned to see who it was and nearly froze at the sight.

Black jeans. Black jacket. Black boots.

A shaved head with neck tattoos.

Like a henchman out of central casting.

Then a second thug appeared. And another.

One flashed a gun while the other signaled for him to stay quiet.

Bobrinsky glanced at his kids, but they were too absorbed in their own little worlds to notice the danger behind them. They continued to stare out their windows as the final man arrived.

Volkov was wearing a shiny black suit that shimmered in the tower’s light. His face was narrow, his eyes were dark, and his nose was quite pronounced. His slicked-back hair had a widow’s peak without a hint of gray. In his business, it was unwise to show weakness of any kind, so he always made sure he looked his best anytime he left his mansion.

Volkov stared daggers at Bobrinsky.

Bobrinsky tried to stare back but was unable to hold his gaze.

In that moment, he knew his fate.

He wouldn’t survive the day.

“Sergei,” Volkov said as he walked toward his anxious prey. “I was just discussing your debt with my men. Your latest payment was due at noon, and it seems you failed to make it. I was wondering how this could possibly be, but now I understand why. You were on vacation!”

Bobrinsky tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. His face turned red. His stomach lurched. His heart pounded in his chest. He swallowed hard before attempting to speak again. “Mister Volkov. I…I tried to call you, but—”

Volkov shook his head. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Sorry, Mister Volkov. I should have—”

Volkov walked forward, grabbed Bobrinsky by the back of his neck, and squeezed. Not hard enough to hurt him. Just hard enough to get his attention. “Please, call me Ivan. At this point, we are well past formalities. You are Sergei, and I am Ivan.”

Bobrinsky nodded. “Yes, of course. Ivan. Whatever you prefer.”

Volkov grinned. “It is still Sergei, isn’t it? Or has that recently changed? The reason I ask is because you used a different name when you bought your tickets to Tallinn. I, of course, know this because I have men everywhere. Loyal men. The kind who would never betray me.”

Bobrinsky opened his mouth, but words failed him once again.

Volkov continued to squeeze. “Sergei, it is okay. I understand your desire to flee. You have Sasha and Angelina to worry about. You did what any parent would do. You tried to protect your family. In many ways, I find it admirable. Disappointing, but admirable.”

With that, he let go of Bobrinsky and shifted his focus to the kids.

“Children,” Volkov called out as he dropped to his knees. “Come over here and say hello. I have seen many pictures of you, but I don’t believe we have met.”

Despite his fierce reputation, Volkov was blessed with an abundance of charm. He used it to lure people in and make them feel comfortable—before he tore them apart, piece by piece. Many sociopaths had the same ability, but few wielded it as effectively as Volkov. He could go from best friend to worst enemy in the blink of an eye.

Angelina turned from her window and walked over without hesitation. She was the more social sibling, the one who never had problems making friends at the playground. She walked right over to Volkov and looked him straight in the eye. “Did you know this is a magic tower?”

Volkov gasped. “Really? What is its magical power?”

She shrugged. “We don’t know. We climbed up here to find out.”

Volkov smiled. “I don’t know if this is true, but someone told me that a very old wizard with a very long beard cast a spell on this tower. Could that be what you’re talking about?”

“Maybe. What was the spell?”

Volkov glanced at Sasha, who had slowly made his way next to his sister. “According to legend, no one in the city of Tallinn can hear what happens in this tower. No matter how loud you yell or how long you scream, no one can hear a thing.”

Sasha scrunched his face. “Is that true?”

“Honestly, I have my doubts. But if it’s okay with you, I’d like to find out.” Volkov pointed at one of his henchman. “See my friend over there. I’ll have him stand outside and close the tower door. Then, on the count of three, I want both of you to scream as loud as you can. I’ll even join in. All of us will scream and scream and scream, and we’ll see if anyone can hear us.”

Both kids grinned. It sounded like fun.

Meanwhile, Bobrinsky was close to vomiting.

“Go on,” Volkov ordered with a snap of his fingers.

The henchman hustled over and closed the thick door from the outside.

Volkov continued to smile. “Okay, kids. On the count of three. One…two…three!”

Sasha and Angelina screamed as loudly as they could, and Volkov did as well. Of the three, Angelina’s high-pitched shriek was the most disturbing. It was loud, and shrill, and seemed to pierce her father’s heart as it rattled up his spine. Goosebumps instantly emerged on his flesh, much like the ones he had experienced when he had first seen a picture of the tower.

In that instant, everything made sense to him.

He finally knew why he had reacted that way as a child.

Fate hadn’t brought him to Tallinn for a second chance.

It had brought him there to end his life.

Volkov waited for the echo to finally die down. It seemed to go on forever, bouncing off the thick stone walls and the peaked wooden ceiling.

Finally, the henchman opened the door and shook his head.

Volkov grinned at the kids. “How about that! The wizard’s spell is actually real. No one can hear a thing!”

Angelina giggled and did a little dance, much to Volkov’s amusement. He reached out his hand and stroked her long, blonde hair. She smiled at him in return.

“Aren’t you a pretty little princess?”

She smiled even wider. “That’s what my papa calls me!”

“I can see why,” Volkov said before turning his attention to Sasha. “And your brother is so big and strong—just like a handsome prince. No wonder your father brought you here to this city by the sea. I hope you enjoyed your day. It was a gift from me to you.”

Volkov glanced back at Bobrinsky, who was frozen in place.

Earlier his cheeks had been bright red.

Now he was a ghastly shade of white.

If he had been alone, he would be fighting for his life.

But with his kids nearby, he was only thinking about their safety.

The last thing he wanted to do was anger the wolf.

“Children,” Volkov said. “Your father and I have some business to discuss in this magical tower. If it’s okay with you, I would like you to step outside so we can chat.”

Bobrinsky finally spoke. “Go on, kids. It’s all right. We won’t be very long.”

Volkov nodded. “He is correct. This will be quick.”

Before they could voice an objection, the children were ushered out by a henchman. He closed the sturdy door behind him, sealing Volkov, Bobrinsky, and two muscular thugs inside. Additional men were posted on the city wall, and more roamed the street below.

Until Volkov was ready to leave, Tallinn would be controlled by Russia.

When the door clicked shut, the thug on the left punched Bobrinsky in the gut. He instantly folded over in pain. This gave the other thug a chance to bind Bobrinsky’s wrists behind his back with a zip tie. Once he was secured, he was pushed to the ground against the tower wall.

Volkov looked down at him in more ways than one. “I understand your decision to run. I really do. Believe it or not, it happens all the time. People slowly but surely succumb to their fears, and they allow their terror to fuel them. But the thing that doesn’t make sense to me is your list of priorities. Why would you pay your smugglers before you paid me?”

Bobrinsky started to explain. “I was—”

Volkov cut him off with a violent kick to his ribs. “That question was rhetorical, because it was something you shouldn’t have done. Up until that moment, I actually respected you. That is why I gave you money when your wife got sick. If you had come to me with your issues and asked for an extension, it would have been granted. In fact, I might have cut a side deal with your smugglers in order to pay off your debt. Instead, you opted to pay them and screw me.”

Volkov punctuated his statement by kicking Bobrinsky again. He cried out in agony as tears streamed down his face—partly from the pain, and partly from regret.

Volkov soaked in the misery as he paced the circular room. The anguish was palpable as it echoed off the walls, all of it fueling his beast within. “Your mistake puts me in a difficult position. Obviously, I can’t let your misdeed go unpunished. It would be bad for business. Therefore, I am forced to kill you in this magical tower. I know that, and you know that. Even my goons know that. And yet, after meeting your children, I can understand your decision to flee. You did that to protect them, and that makes you a good father.”

Volkov took a moment to consider that concept as he continued to pace. “I never knew my father because my mother was a whore. However, if I had known my father, I would want him to be someone like you. Well, not foolish with his money or stupid enough to screw over a man like me—but protective of his children, like you were today.”

Volkov shifted his gaze back to Bobrinsky.

As he did, an evil snarl appeared on his lips.

In an instant, he looked like the wolf that he was.

To fully enjoy the moment, Volkov lowered himself into a crouch on the stone floor, so he could stare directly into Bobrinsky’s watery eyes. He wanted to see the devastation when his options were presented. “Since you are such a good father, I am going to give you a difficult choice—much like the one you made when you gambled your family’s wellbeing on the health of your wife. And much like then, the odds for happiness are very slim.”

Volkov moved in closer, relishing the fear in his victim’s face. “If you like, I can kill your children before I slit your throat. That way you know for sure that they did not suffer. Or if you prefer, I can slit your throat and then bring in your children to see your corpse. That way you won’t have to feel the sorrow of their death. Instead, they’ll be forced to bear the loss.”

Bobrinsky sobbed uncontrollably.

Neither option was a good one.

How could he possibly choose?

But Volkov wasn’t done. “With option two, there is always a chance that your death will satisfy me. And since I have met your children and enjoy their company, perhaps I will take them to my home. I think I would be a good parent, don’t you? Your daughter, in particular, interests me. I am sure I could sell her to someone in Africa to pay off your debts.”

Bobrinsky’s sobs turned into wails. Long, painful wails that echoed in the tower like a chorus of demons. The sound was so disturbing even the goons were forced to grimace.

But not Volkov.

He continued to grin while waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come.