CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Her hands trembling on the wheel, Gina drove through the outskirts of town in deepening darkness. If ever she needed his help, now was it. She took out the Potemkin phone and called again. It kept ringing and ringing. This was not like him. Stopping at a red light, she turned to get a good view of the girl on the back seat.
Kaitlyn the niece was lying on her side, deeply sedated, wrists bound behind her. Her eyes were blank and unblinking, twitching slowly with nystagmus. A line of saliva oozed from the corner of her mouth. Her breathing was regular but sounded coarse. Gina chose to put her in the back seat because it would have been impossible to lift her in the trunk. But this was dangerous. There wasn’t even a blanket to cover her with.
The light changed and she drove on, trying Potemkin’s number again. Finally, she got through to him. “Why in the hell haven’t you answered me?”
“I’m here now, so no problem,” he said in a genial tone. “I was on the upper deck celebrating. Have you been watching the news about our favorite hospital? It gets better and better. Why are you calling?”
“Mikhail, there’s been a problem.”
“What kind of problem? Tell me now.”
Gina sighed. “Someone saw me putting the medication vial back in Forester’s car.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The medication I used last night came from Forester’s car. It couldn’t be seen missing, so I had to put it back. I replaced what I used with water.”
“You should have been more careful. Who was it that saw you?”
“Forester’s niece.”
Potemkin grunted loudly. “This niece, she knew you?”
“Yes. She spotted me and came over to say goodbye. I didn’t see or hear her until she was right there. I had the vial in my hand.”
“How old is this niece?”
“Sixteen. She’s sedated in the back seat right now. I gave her the same medication I gave the boy.”
“Enough to kill her?”
Heart sinking, she opened her mouth but stopped, glancing back again and swallowing.
“Well?” he pressed. “That would be the simplest thing, no?”
She knew there was no point in arguing. “I don’t know how much it takes,” she said. “I’m not a pharmacist.”
“So, what do you plan to do when she wakes up, Gina—take her to Ben & Jerry’s and buy her some good American ice cream?”
“Don’t say stupid things.” A police car was approaching from the opposite direction. She checked her speed. It slipped by. “I need help.”
“No one saw you take this girl?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Did you check to see if there were any cameras around?”
“Of course.” Her hands were cramping on the wheel.
“Then you need the help of Freddy Sokolov at my scrapyard. I’m texting you the address now for your GPS. Once there, you can shoot her. Freddy will dispose.”
A painful lump forming in her throat, Gina started to say something that came out as a sob. She glanced back and saw the girl’s eyes glow in the passing light of a streetlamp.
“Ah . . .” said Potemkin. “Once was too much for you. No problem. Freddy can do it. You have his secure phone. Call him. He’s reliable.”
“Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
Potemkin went quiet. She knew he hadn’t hung up because she could hear him breathing.
“I tell you what, Gina. We will make it more simple. I will call Freddy myself. You just drive straight to the scrapyard.”
“He’ll be there on a Sunday?”
“Yes. Freddy loves to shred those junk cars, and he likes the money. I give him bonuses by the ton. We had a big shipment of junkers yesterday. He’s probably been shredding all day and most likely alone. It only takes one person. You put the car on the conveyor, then the big machine chews them up. After this, you dump the bits into a train car. If he’s not working now, he will come. He lives close. Just go to the front gate and flash your lights three times. Simple.”
At the scrapyard, Gina pulled up to a tall chain-link gate topped by barbed wire. Even with the windows closed she could hear the shredder’s racket. She blinked her headlamps. The girl in the back seat still wasn’t moving. She saw a man silhouetted by high intensity floodlights walking toward the gate inside, flashlight in his hand. His height and build resembled the Freddy Sokolov she’d seen the other night. As she rolled down the passenger window, the shredder’s din increased. He opened the gate and came to her, beaming the flashlight in her eyes.
“You are Gina?”
She held up her hand to block the glare. “Yes. Do you have to shine that in my eyes?”
The beam moved away from her face as he directed it into the seat of the car through the window. “Is that the kid?”
“Yes.”
“How long will she be out?”
“I don’t know. A long time.”
“Okay,” he said. “Pull inside and stay in the car. Wait for me.”
He opened the gate wider. She eased in, stopping. Returning to her window, he again directed the light in her eyes.
“Stop,” she said. “You’re blinding me.” But as he moved the light away, she saw the unmistakable black hole of a pistol barrel. Then everything ended in a smear of fire.