CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Volkov wasn’t used to failure.
Occasionally he was forced to deal with incompetence and outright betrayals, but rarely failure. It happened so infrequently that he didn’t know how to react.
Somehow he had managed to keep his cool outside the library. When the henchman with the gym bags had started to walk toward his table, Volkov had shaken his head and held up his phone to let the goon know that he would call him instead. Then Volkov had paid his bill and left the plaza before the police had even arrived.
After that, he had walked the streets of Valletta until he was far enough away from the chaos at the library to summon his driver. Once he was safely inside the tinted town car, Volkov called the henchman and told him where they would meet.
◊ ◊ ◊
The plumber knew he couldn’t tell Volkov the truth about the library.
Not if he wanted to live.
So while he waited to be picked up, he hid in an alley behind a dumpster and concocted his version of the shootout, all in hopes of surviving the day.
When the town car arrived, he hustled from his hiding spot and climbed into the back seat where Volkov eagerly awaited details about the library. To make sure the driver couldn’t listen, Volkov raised the soundproof partition before he started his questioning.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded as the car pulled away from the curb. “I want to know everything!”
“They were waiting for us,” the plumber explained. “The moment we stepped into the room, they started shooting. I don’t know if someone tipped them off or they had access to the camera feeds outside the building, but they knew we were coming.”
“Impossible!” Volkov blurted. “The cameras were down.”
“Sir,” the plumber said as he mixed fact with fiction, “I’ve never seen anything like it. These guys weren’t normal bodyguards. They were elite soldiers with unorthodox tactics. The only reason I’m still alive is because of the woman.”
Volkov had seen Marissa when she had unlocked the library door but knew nothing about her except her beauty. “How so?”
“When the shooting began, she dove over the main counter and started loading documents into these gym bags,” he blatantly lied. “We figured they must have some importance, so I dealt with her while the rest of my team took on the bodyguards. My initial plan was to kill her without mercy, but since we knew nothing about her or how she relates to the Finn, I opted to spare her life in case you wanted to question her at a later date.”
The plumber took a deep breath in order to sell his lie. “But I’m telling you, sir, it was the toughest decision of my life. It took all of my discipline and military training to stop myself from pulling that trigger and splattering her brains against the wall. Instead, I had to settle for kicking her in the ribs and taking her bags while she writhed on the floor in agony.”
He shook his head with fake angst. “I hope I did the right thing.”
Volkov considered the henchman’s statement as he stared out the window at the harbor. There were so many unanswered questions in his mind that he didn’t know what to ask. “Yes, comrade. You did the right thing. I am glad that you showed restraint. The woman may prove useful in the future. Too bad the rest of your team didn’t possess your valor.”
“They fought hard, sir. You would have been proud.”
Volkov barely heard his reply. His thoughts were focused on the bags instead. “While you were waiting, did you look inside?”
The henchman shook his head. “Of course not, sir. I got them for you.”
Volkov reached out and grabbed the first gym bag from the floor. It was much heavier than he thought it would be. Whatever the woman was trying to take had some bulk.
Much to his surprise, Volkov could feel his heart race.
The mystery of it all made him feel alive.
Like a child waking up on Christmas morning.
Unfortunately, it was followed by a stocking full of coal.
Because the bags were filled with crap.
Nothing but crap.
“What is this?” Volkov shouted as he rifled through multiple pamphlets about Valletta, several takeout menus, a Maltese phonebook, and various other pieces of junk.
The henchman stood his ground. “I don’t understand! Why would the woman risk her life to save this meaningless shit? Unless…”
Volkov stared at him. “Unless what?”
“Unless it was a ploy of some kind. Maybe she wanted to distract us while the Finn stole something of real value from the library.”
“Like what?” Volkov demanded.
The henchman shrugged. “Sorry, sir, I can’t imagine. The library was quite large, and I was focused on the woman and retrieving the bags. I know nothing about the Finn or his motivations. He could have been after anything.”
Volkov nodded with sudden clarity. He had planned to go back to Russia to regroup, but he suddenly realized that he needed to learn more about the smuggler—or else this entire trip had been a waste. With a touch of a button, he lowered the car’s partition so he could speak to the driver. “Change of plans. Instead of the airport, take us to the Grand Harbour Marina.”
The henchman grimaced in frustration. His plan had worked perfectly until then. He was so close to going home he could almost taste it. “Sir, are you sure that’s wise? His men cut through our squad with little difficulty. I’m not sure how much protection I can offer you.”
Volkov cocked his head slightly. Until that moment, he had believed everything the henchman had told him, but now he wasn’t so sure. How did a soldier go from bragging about his “discipline and military training” and his deep desire to “splatter brains against the wall” to cowering in fear?
He probably didn’t—unless he had been a coward all along.
Volkov closed his eyes and thought back to the moment when the henchman had opened the library door. In his mind, he saw it quite clearly: the look on the henchman’s face.
It wasn’t relief from surviving the fight.
It was embarrassment from sneaking away.
“Maybe you’re right,” Volkov said as he opened his eyes and focused on the henchman. “If his bodyguards are as good as you say, perhaps retreat would be prudent.”
“You’re the boss, sir. I’ll do whatever you say. But I think that is probably wise.”
In that instant, Volkov knew that he was correct.
The henchman had been playing him all along.
And for that, he must pay the ultimate price.
Volkov reached into his pocket with his one hand, while raising the partition with the other. He didn’t mind killing in front of witnesses; in fact, he normally enjoyed the rush. But in this case, he didn’t want to get arterial spray on the windshield.
The last thing he needed was to be pulled over.
Corpses were so hard to explain.
Volkov calmly waited until the partition clicked shut before he flicked open his blade. A split-second later, he unleashed his frustration in a torrent of displaced rage.
Throat. Hands. Arms. Face.
Whatever got in his way.
He just kept on slashing and slashing until there was no goon left.
Just blood and bone and meat.
◊ ◊ ◊
Volkov wiped his hands on the dead man’s pants before he placed the call to his hackers. He told them where he was headed and ordered them to shut down surveillance in that area.
A minute later, the cameras at Grand Harbour Marina went offline.
Not only the security feed, but every camera on every boat in Birgu.
As if the entire marina had been sucked into a technological black hole.
Volkov had no idea how they did it, but they were worth every ruble.
Now he would be free to search the Finn’s yacht in private.