Chapter Twenty-seven
Moscow, Russia
December 4, 10:30 p.m.
Justin parked the Lada across from the hospital emergency entrance behind a white van, somewhat shielded from the eyes of a couple of patients huddled for a smoke a few feet away from the doors. He waited until Bronislav’s BMW came to a stop in front of the Lada, then got out of the car. He had chosen to break the bad news to Yuliya in person.
Instead of a fury of protests and objections, he was met by her calm and composed manner. “Fine, the bastard can live. For now,” she said in a cold voice that did not hide her disappointment.
Justin nodded, but he knew the real reason for her displeasure: it had to be Romanov. “He didn’t authorize his elimination, did he?”
Bronislav gave Justin a harsh look, as if his words had opened up old wounds.
Yuliya grinned. “Romanov seemed to have had a change of heart, or perhaps I had misread the clues. He believes Derzhavin is more valuable to him alive than dead.”
Justin wanted to say that Romanov was probably right, but he knew it was not the time to gloat.
“What kind of deal did you cut with him?” Yuliya asked as she ran her tongue over her parched lips.
“A deal that has room for amendments, once Romanov decides to use it. For now, Derzhavin has agreed to stop harassing the rich businessmen who are Romanov’s friends. And if Romanov wants him to target someone, Derzhavin is open to considering it.”
Bronislav did not hide his surprise. “You’re a good negotiator.”
Yuliya nodded and smiled. “The best.”
“Hardly so,” Justin said. “At gunpoint one can get a man to submit to anything.”
“True,” said Yuliya, “but not a man like the deputy. What did you get for yourself?”
“He’ll provide a team and we’ll go after Kaziyev.”
Yuliya’s frown showed her disapproval of Justin’s plan. “I see you still have a death wish.”
Justin shrugged. “You said that before we hit the detention center.”
“You got lucky there because of Carrie. That may not happen again.”
“You’re right, but it’s worth a shot.”
Bronislav grinned. “A lot of shots. Kaziyev is very, very well protected. And I’ve heard he has disappeared somewhere in deep Dagestan. It’s a harsh land of harsh people.”
“I’m sure we’ll have a chance to discuss this further, but let’s get Yuliya in and all fixed up.”
He helped Yuliya slide out of her seat. She placed her arm around his shoulder, wavering on her good leg. Bronislav took hold of her other arm and they almost carried her all the way to the hospital entrance. Yuliya groaned as her foot dragged on the uneven sidewalk.
Carrie and Derzhavin were just getting out of the Lada. Yuliya gave Derzhavin such a stern, fiery gaze that Justin thought she might decide to break away from their grip and assault her Deputy Director right there and then as payback for his shooting her.
“Are you going to play nice if I leave you alone with him?” Justin asked Yuliya.
“No promises,” she replied with a wince. “He looks in pretty bad shape, and those shoulder wounds are so unpredictable.”
Justin grinned at Yuliya’s thinly veiled threat. His arm ached and he stared at the blood which had caked over the sleeve of his windbreaker.
“I’ll behave,” Yuliya said, “don’t worry about it. And I’ll make sure I give you some good men for your team, since I won’t be able to be there myself.”
She dropped her eyes to her leg, then shifted her weight to the good foot. Bronislav’s arm stayed around her and he gestured toward a couple of people in lab coats inside the hospital. Paramedics.
“Bronislav would be excellent,” Yuliya said. “And Daniel would certainly be a great help. I’ll think of a few other good people,” she said in a pain-filled voice.
Two paramedics from inside the hospital hurried through the entrance pushing a gurney.
“It’s time you rest,” Justin said, stepping back and allowing the strong men to take over. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Yuliya asked.
“Oh, yeah, this is just a scratch. I’ll spend the night at our safe house. You get better now.”
Carrie and Derzhavin had stopped just outside the entrance. Bronislav looked at Yuliya being whisked away by the paramedics, then said. “You should have let us have our way with Derzhavin.”
“Killing the cow cuts off the milk,” Justin replied.
Bronislav’s left lip curled up in a smirk. “What are you, a bloody farmer?”
“No, I just like metaphors, and I like Derzhavin alive. You’ll get your revenge soon enough, but until then, you and I will take on the Chechens.”
Bronislav nodded. “It’s going to be messy,” he said with a frown.
He looked again at the entrance but Derzhavin was out of sight.
“You ready?” Justin asked.
Bronislav’s frown disappeared and he gave Justin a big, toothy grin. “Absolutely. Let’s get dirty.”