Nikki splashed water in her face for a second time before examining herself in the mirror. She took note of several scratches along her cheeks and forehead, tracing the larger of the welts with her fingers. Most of the abrasions were minor, but there was one cut on her forehead above her left eye, a clean line almost three inches long and surrounded by redness; it was already crusted over with a thin layer of blood. Nikki touched the cut and the stab of pain caused her to wince.
Once she had slipped inside the nightclub, she had navigated the darkness and abundance of bodies on the dance floor with relative ease, moving in synchronistic rhythm to the beat of the music, without being noticed. After hiding among the club patrons, she quickly glanced toward the entrance for her pursuers. She was relieved to find that they had not followed her inside; at least not yet. She then scanned the interior of the bar in search of the restrooms. She had spotted an exit sign along the far wall and, below it, a door where she saw a pair of young woman exit and make their way back to the dance floor. Nikki then moved past the crowds toward that door and stepped into the brightly lit bathroom. It was empty, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. She took stock of the room—across from the stall there was a long mirror that spanned three sinks. Nikki made her way to the far stall, stepped inside, closed the thin metal door, and locked it. She sat down on the commode and allowed herself a sigh of relief.
She lifted her right leg, gently put it over her left knee, and checked the ankle. Blood covered her sock and most of her shoe, and the skin around the joint was bruised and swollen. She still wore the running shoes that she had on the night she was kidnapped and was smart enough to keep them on now, knowing they would help keep swelling to a minimum. She gently placed her right foot on the floor, and leaned against the metal stall divider, the coldness against her cheek offering a moment of minor relaxation. The combination of injury and adrenaline caused a wave of nausea to wash over her, and for several seconds, she held still, thinking she might vomit. She pushed herself away from the divider and sat upright, taking several deep breaths to calm her jittery stomach and stop her hands from shaking. She was interrupted when several women entered the restroom, the blast of the door opening followed by rapid conversation in Russian that soon broke into laughter. Nikki peeked into the narrow slit between the stall door and its frame. She saw three young women wearing skintight brightly-colored dresses with matching high heels. They leaned over the sinks, combing their hair and reapplying the requisite lip gloss and makeup. She could see the excitement on their faces as they prattled on about their evening; their youthful body language and movements were a form of nostalgia for Nikki. She thought how far she was from that life now, how in reality her background—combined with her strong sense of purpose at a very young age—never allowed for much fun. She experienced an emotional flashback to the jealousy and loss caused by never allowing herself the simple enjoyments. Her eyes welled up at the thought, and she was surprised at the strength of her emotional response. She quickly shook the emotions off, and after the three women left the restroom, she hobbled out of the stall and made her way the sink.
If I can survive until morning, I’ll be fine, she thought.
Nikki looked around the restroom as she tried to think of her next move. Beyond the commode stalls and sinks, there was only a small storage closet door on the farthest wall from the entrance. There was nowhere to hide, and she had no idea what to do next. She began to panic and grabbed hold of the sink to keep steady. Her mind went to Alex.
Nikki thought of her circumstance of escape, and how she knew without question that Alex had orchestrated it. “Don’t die,” David Two-Good had said to her, just before he sacrificed himself to buy her just enough time to get clear of the castle. Nikki wondered if that had been a direct message from Alex to her—if those might have actually been Alex’s words. She wondered if he was capable of something that extreme, wondered just how far his influence on another’s mind could go. It dawned on her that if Alex had orchestrated her release, he was perhaps counting on her to help him out as well. To do so would require the use of PHOEBE, the Internet’s version of Alex Luthecker, which Nikki had purposely lain dormant in the deep Internet. With PHOEBE, she could disrupt or alter anything in the world that was electronically connected. If she could find her way to a computer, she might be able to help Alex. Nikki made up her mind that that was the plan.
“To the back. Come with me,” Masha said, yelling over the din of the club as she led Chris and Yaw deep into the underground establishment. Yaw and Chris tried not to push club patrons aside, who were lost in their own world, as they attempted to keep up with the fast-moving Masha. The lighting of the club was darkness cut by red; heavy and rhythmic-pounding music provided the communal heartbeat. The combinations of noise and red and dark and motion was dizzying, and it made keeping up with Masha, who moved like a shark past the bodies, a challenge for Chris and Yaw. She made her way to the back wall without bumping into a single individual and went directly to the corner booth where four women were seated. She turned and waited for Yaw and Chris to catch up. When Chris and Yaw reached the booth, they recognized the women as Masha’s friends who’d earlier been in the street.
Masha barked in Russian to the women in the booth, and the ladies moved off the black leather seats and stood up in their heels. A tall brunette, who wore a gold crucifix, kissed Yaw on the cheek before all of Masha’s women quickly disappeared within the crowds. Masha motioned to Yaw and Chris, and the two men slid into the booth, making sure to place themselves so that they could keep an eye on the door.
“I told them to look out for Semyon or any of his men.” Masha took a seat next to Chris. Her voice cut through the noise without changing tone.
“How long have you know Semyon?” Yaw yelled over the music.
Masha searched her Chloe Elsie bag for the soft pack of Winstons before she answered. She lit her own cigarette this time. “I met him after he left the military. We became involved. This was right before he went to work for the Barbarian.”
“Who?”
Masha took a drag from her cigarette, and the ember glowed. “Ivan Barbolin.” She exhaled a breath of smoke. “The Russian gun tyrant.”
“Trans Dniester is controlled by the Russians?” Chris asked.
“Technically, no. But Mother Russia has never taken her eyes from us. Have you seen our statues and landmarks?”Masha did a quick reconnaissance scan over the club. She exchanged looks with several of her girlfriends, getting the all clear from each before she continued.“Ivan Barbolin ran the Soviet military machine before the empire was broken into pieces. Then capitalism came to Russia, and the Barbarian, and many others like him, became billionaires. He earned his nickname by killing any and all who opposed him. When Trans Dniester broke free from Moldova, it was the perfect place for he and his American partner in the gun trade to avoid international law. His American partner is a man by the name of Lucas Parks.”
Masha pulled an ashtray close and tamped out her cigarette.“They already had billions, and they made billions more. More money than most could count. The Barbarian was having the North Star castle rebuilt for Lucas Parks at Parks’ request. Parks was unexpectedly sent to prison in America, but the Barbarian ordered the rebuild to continue. Oligarchs love their castles. When Parks suddenly arrived only days ago, the Barbarian sent him an escort and a security detail to ensure his safe arrival. Semyon is the head of that detail.”
“And was it Semyon who told you all this?” Yaw asked.
“Everyone knows who the Barbarian is. Everyone knows who Lucas Parks is.”
“You mentioned earlier that you all pay. Is that who you pay? The Barbarian?” Chris asked.
A waitress approached with a tray of shot glasses.
“Vodka,” Masha said to the woman.
“No thank you,” Yaw said, waving the waitress off.
The waitress smiled, ignored Yaw, and placed a shot in front of each of them. She then looked at Masha and nodded, before she wheeled about and walked away.
“We are not prostitutes if that is what you think,” Masha said, before she picked up the shot of vodka in front of her, tilted her head back, and swallowed the drink in one gulp. She slammed the shot glass back down on the table. “We are spies.”
The beat of the music shifted to a higher tempo, and the people in the club cheered.
“Semyon works for the Barbarian. I work for Semyon. And if you do not drink, you will look suspicious.”
Yaw and Chris looked at one another before picking up their shot glasses. They raised the tumblers and tilted their heads back, swallowing their shots in one large gulp. The look on both of their faces indicated that the vodka burned the back of their throats more than either anticipated.
“We are paid to watch; more for former KGB or Moldovan problems than American or European. There is much local competition in both the slave and drug trade. The Barbarian controls all and the penalties for stealing from him are severe.”
“Is that why you approached us? Because you thought we were a threat?”
“No. Trouble for tourists is trouble for the Barbarian and his trade. They are to be left alone. Guided away from trouble if necessary. Or enjoyed.”
Masha held Chris’ eyes just long enough to let him know she meant him.
“So what happened between you and Semyon?” Chris asked.
“He cheated on me. We broke up. But I still work for him. In this I have no choice.”
“Can you help us get inside Lucas Parks’ castle?” Chris asked.
Masha laughed. “That is impossible. What I can do is find out who the woman is that Semyon is looking for. See if she is your friend. And if she is, I promise you I can find her before he does.”
“That’s great. But we came here for two people.”
“You will be very lucky to find one. Now how do you plan to get me out?”
Winn Germaine watched from the cover of the alley as armed soldiers hustled past him. He had climbed down from his perch atop the Tiraspol Hostel to the side street next to the building as soon as he had seen soldiers break from the forest and cut through the slow-moving crowds of tourists and locals. He had watched their actions and how they had quickly focused on key local individuals, questioning them in what looked like a standard search-and-seizure routine before beginning their search inside every establishment, open or closed. It was clear that they were after someone, and the locals kept a keen eye on the streets. Winn had noticed the commotion too late to establish who they were after. He had chosen to stay in the shadows and observe, and only once did he consider moving into the open and involving himself in the flow of fear and threat that these soldiers were creating, and that was when the leader of the soldiers approached Yaw and Chris. Winn had moved the three sets of Kali stick holsters strapped on his back free in preparation, but chose instead to hold still. The exchange between Winn’s students and the soldier had been brief, and the heavyset man never lifted the barrel of his AK-47 in a way that had constituted a threat. As Winn watched the soldier turn and walk away, he noted that the man’s movements were encouraged by the anger of the woman, who had been the focal point of not only Yaw and Chris’ attention but the soldier as well. Winn sensed that the danger had passed, and he slipped back in the shadows to continue his observation, watching as Yaw and Chris followed the woman into a nightclub across the street. Winn sensed that she was now a contact of sorts for them, and he had faith that his students would be able to handle themselves accordingly. He decided that he would keep his eye on the soldier’s movements in the streets, in hopes of discovering who or what it was that they were after. Winn observed as the soldiers, a dozen of them in total, continued to canvass the crowds, knocking on doors and speaking to key locals. He recognized a pattern and realized that there was an intricate human intelligence grid at work; despite the appearance of tourists—freely at play with locals who were happy to accommodate—the truth was that everyone in the city was being watched. It hit Winn that it was only a matter of time before their presence would be questioned and their efforts discovered.
It was when the man who ran a small food cart near center court was being questioned by three soldiers that the hair on the back of Winn’s neck stood up. The man had pointed at the nightclub entrance that Yaw and Chris had entered only minutes earlier. It was a familiar reaction for him, years of experience—combined with the confluence of events—telling his instincts that conflict was near. He removed the Kali sticks from his back and stepped from the alley.
“You have not answered my question,” Masha said as she lit up another Winston. One of her friends approached the booth and smiled at Chris before leaning over and whispering in Masha’s ear. Masha nodded to the woman, who promptly disappeared into the dance club crowd.
“And Semyon’s men will be in the club soon,” Masha said.
“Our getting you out, as well as our own exit, is predicated on us finding our friends. We ride or die together. That’s the only way,” Chris said.
Masha looked back and forth between Chris and Yaw. If she was going to trust them, she had to decide now. Her gaze settled on Chris, and she decided to take a chance.
“The woman Semyon is after. She is in the club. Come with me.” Masha got up from the table and walked into the crowds without looking back. Yaw and Chris leaped to their feet and followed her. Once again she weaved her way between patrons with uncanny precision as she led Yaw and Chris through the club and toward a neon-red exit sign on the far side. As the three of them approached, Yaw and Chris noticed that the large wooden door of the ladies’ restroom was locked from the outside by a thick vertical dead bolt. Two women stood on either side of the door, guarding it like sentries.
Nikki pulled hard on the restroom door again, yanking it back and forth with all of her strength, desperately trying to rip it open. The big wooden slab shook in the frame but didn’t move, and she let out a scream of frustration. Nikki was sure he had slipped into the club unnoticed, and she could not have been more wrong. Not only had she been spotted, she had been trapped, locked in the women’s restroom with no way of escaping.
She stepped away from the door, backed against the sink, and leaned on it. Her legs began to shake, and exhaustion hit her quick and hard. The pain in her ankles had gotten so severe that she could barely stand, and she fought off tears as the futility of her situation set in. I came so close, she thought. She had let Alex down. She heard the sound of the dead bolt being pulled back, and she forced herself to stand. She would not surrender without a fight. Nikki flexed her hands and cracked her neck. Whoever walked through that door first, at the very least, she was going to make them pay.
Nikki limped to the entrance side of the door, moved against the wall, and waited. She noted that the door was being pushed open by a slender woman’s arm, and that it was the external arm to her position, putting the wrist, elbow, and the muscle and tendons connecting the joints between the woman and Nikki.
When the door was halfway open, Nikki snatched the woman’s right arm with her left, pulled her into the bathroom, and spun her around. She pulled the woman close and wrapped her right arm around the woman’s neck. She had the woman in a headlock in less than three seconds and positioned her between herself and the restroom entrance. Nikki waited. When Nikki saw who walked through the door next, all the air left her lungs, and she let the woman go. She put her hands to her face and dropped to her knees.
“Nikki!” Chris screamed as he rushed farther inside the woman’s restroom. He picked her up, wrapped his arms around her, and kept her from collapsing. She buried her face on his shoulder.
“How did you find me…?” she said before she started to cry.”
“You should’a known we were gonna come looking for you.”
She looked up from Chris’ shoulder and saw Yaw standing behind him, a big smile on his face.
“I take it that this is your friend,” Masha said to Yaw, rubbing her neck, none too happy about the headlock.
“Yes it is. And we owe you.”
One of the women who stood guard at the door entered, a panicked look on her face. She said a quick phrase in Russian to Masha. Masha turned to Chris, a grave look on her face.
“Semyon’s men are in the club.”
Everyone looked at Masha, unsure what to do next.
“This way. Quickly.”Masha stepped out of the restroom.
“I got her,” Chris said to Yaw as he put an arm around Nikki’s waist, and she an arm around his neck. “Go.”
Yaw walked behind Masha and two paces ahead of Chris and Nikki, making sure to keep an eye on both. He noticed that Masha’s friends looked at her with fear in their eyes, some turning away or taking a step back. Masha and her little group of reconnaissance vixens had worked from a well-rehearsed playbook, and Yaw sensed that Masha was now breaking the play, and the rest of the girls were scrambling, unsure of what was going on and fearing the potential consequences. The tall brunette who had kissed Yaw on the cheek only moments earlier approached Masha, the look on her face clearly confused and wary, but Masha ignored her and kept moving.
Yaw glanced back at Chris and Nikki. He saw that Nikki could barely walk, and that Chris, with his arm around her waist, was nearly carrying her, but they were not losing pace. He looked over to the dance floor and noticed a disruption in the rhythm of the club goers’ movements as men with rifles slowly pushed their way through. Yaw slowed and used his body to screen Chris and Nikki as they moved past the dance floor. He looked ahead and saw that Masha was standing at the bar and talking to the bartender, a tall, slender man with horn-rimmed glasses and side-parted, glossy-brown hair. Yaw watched as Masha pointed directly at him, Chris, and Nikki. The bartender pushed his glasses back up on nose before looking at each of them. Masha put her hand on the bartender’s arm, a strategic move that changed the bartender’s body language in an instant, without him being aware of it. Masha motioned to Yaw with a barely-perceptible nod for the three of them to head to a black door with a small portcullis window located next to the bar. She kissed the bartender on the cheek before pushing through the double-hinged door. Yaw let Chris and Nikki go first, and the three of them followed Masha through the door.
“We go through the storage room and down the hall to a service entrance that will lead us into the alley. From there, I can get us free from the city. Come,” Masha said as she led everyone through a narrow corridor that went through a gauntlet of large, stainless-steel refrigerators, stacked beer kegs, and rows and rows of boxes filled with liquor. They reached a service door, a thick metal barrier with a large ratchet handle. Masha cranked the handle down before bumping her shoulder against the door to push it open. She passed through first and the other three stepped into a long dimly-lit hallway with sweating concrete walls and an array of corroding copper pipes that ran along the ceiling. The music of the bar began to fade as they made their way down the narrow concrete pass, the sounds of the club replaced by the echo of Masha’s heels clicking on the concrete at a rapid pace. They walked for what seemed like several minutes before they saw a long set of metal steps ahead, which were revealed one at a time as they got closer. Soon they stood at the base of the stairs and saw a door at the top. Masha took a brief look back at her new friends before hustling up the steps. She reached the door at the top, turned the knob, and pushed through. Yaw was close behind her, choosing to wait for Chris and Nikki to catch up. The three of them stepped through the door together. The cool night breeze brushed them immediately as they entered the refuse-cluttered alley next to the bar.
Yaw took two steps forward and froze in his tracks.
“Do not move,” Semyon said to Yaw. He kept the barrel of his AK-47 on Yaw as he looked at Chris then at Nikki. He smiled when he saw Nikki.
Yaw counted what he was up against. There were three others with Semyon, two aiming rifles at Chris and Nikki, the third holding Masha from behind by the arms. Masha thrashed a moment, swearing at Semyon before he abruptly backhanded her.
Semyon turned back to Yaw. “I told you she would cost.” He cracked Yaw across the jaw with the butt of his rifle.
Yaw staggered back, but did not go down.
One of the Russian soldiers whispered something to the other three, and they all laughed.
Yaw, Chris, and Nikki heard it an instant before they saw it, and what they heard was the hollow crack of wood on bone.
Winn hit the first soldier in the back of the head so hard with his Kali stick that it nearly knocked the stick from his hand.
The man dropped to his knees.
Winn used the recoil of the stick to add momentum to the already lightning-fast speed of his counter spin, cracking the second soldier in the temple and shutting the man’s lights less than a second later.
Yaw didn’t hesitate with his reaction. He was in motion before the first man hit his knees, using Semyon’s microsecond of confused hesitation to grab the barrel of the Russian soldier’s rifle and move it away.
Semyon instinctively pull the trigger.
Yaw was prepared, and his actions didn’t slow when a burst of bullets strafed the alley. He drove an elbow onto Semyon’s forehead, hard enough to crack bone.
Semyon staggered and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The fourth man, who held Masha, quickly pushed her aside, only to catch a front kick in the groin from Chris, the strong strike lifted the man off his feet. Chris followed the kick with a head butt to the bridge of the Russian’s nose—timed with the soldier’s forward-pitching body. The man was out cold before he hit the ground.
In less than three seconds Semyon and his three soldiers were unmoving on the alley floor.
“Ninja turtles,” Masha said.
They looked at her.
“I see that show. When I was a kid. You three look just like that now,” she said, as she straightened out her dress and wiped a trace of blood from the corner of her mouth.
Chris looked at Masha and shook his head.
“Who is he? Another friend?” Masha asked, nodding at Winn.
“You could say that,” Chris said.
“More are coming. We have to go,” Winn explained, as he tossed Chris and Yaw a set of Kali sticks.
Winn looked at Nikki. She kept one arm against the building to keep from falling.
“Are you okay?” Winn asked.
Nikki pushed herself off the building.
“Get me…” Nikki began as she hobbled forward, “to a fucking computer.”