“Okay, but to what ends?”
“To suck it dry in one fell swoop,” the Executioner replied.
CHAPTER FIVE
Yan “the Wolf” Volkov rubbed his temples in an attempt to abate the splitting headache.
His conversation with Yuri Godunov hadn’t gone well, although it had gone about as he expected. What Volkov couldn’t understand was how four of his people had been put down so quickly and efficiently by one man. The bigger problem came from the fact that none of his contacts in the U.S. Customs had seen this man or gotten their hands on the security tapes in One Federal Plaza. Volkov didn’t even have a rough description, and that would make it next to impossible to identify him.
The other thing that bothered the Russian mercenary was the why of it. What reason had this man had for killing the team sent to retrieve Bogdan Lutrova? Had he been expecting them? And if so, did that mean Volkov had some sort of leak inside his own operations? His people had always been loyal in the past, never a one turning against him. That had to do partly with his training methods and partly from the fact that he paid them very well.
Soldiers-for-hire were a superstitious and close-mouthed lot. They generally didn’t talk to anybody about what they did, for any reason. Loose lips could get those in the business killed very quickly, or lead to ostracizing on a global scale. This most recent event had not only put Volkov’s head on the chopping block, but his reputation, as well—his employer wasn’t known for being the forgiving type.
Volkov sat back in his chair and thought about his options. While he took his instructions from Godunov, he knew the money came from someone higher. That someone—Volkov didn’t know exactly who, but he had his suspicions—expected positive results every time and wouldn’t hear excuses if things went sour. Volkov had to admit he’d never been in a situation quite like this one before. He’d almost declined the job when he heard how Godunov wanted to do it, but saying no wasn’t really an option. He was on retainer, a contract of sorts, and that meant whenever they told him to jump he simply did it. Everything else got put aside and there wasn’t even any asking “how high” he was expected to get it done quickly and efficiently.
The plan hadn’t been very good to start with. It would have been much simpler to get Bogdan Lutrova into America in secret. There were many ways to smuggle such persons into the country without much trouble at all—the Wolf had plenty of mechanisms in place for such an operation. In fact, human trafficking remained a financial mainstay of his operations, and as long as he didn’t do anything to expose the RBN, they were content to look the other way. Of course, he was mandated to remit a certain amount of his profits to them—kickbacks for certain of them to look the other way—but that was simply the cost of doing business. And Volkov didn’t mind paying off those individuals, since it didn’t cut that deeply into his profit margin.
This present problem, however, had become another issue, with a magnitude of complications. If Volkov had any hope of setting this right, he would have to locate the mysterious stranger who’d killed his men, and find Bogdan Lutrova. It didn’t really matter if—
A rap at his office door broke his concentration, and he barked, “Yes?”
The door opened enough to reveal the heavily made up face of his secretary. She was a short, blond, petite woman—midtwenties, Volkov recalled—who hailed from the same area of the Ukraine as he. On occasion she performed more than just secretarial duties for him, although she expected to be compensated for such things. Nothing in life was free.
“Mr. Volkov? It is Mr. Godunov for you. He’s on your personal line.”
“Put it through, Mira,” Volkov said, leaning forward to put his hand on the extension, and muttering curses as to what the man could possibly want now.
When Volkov answered, Godunov said, “I have our asset here with me.”
“What?” Volkov could feel his stomach knot. “You mean—”
“Yes, I mean that asset.”
“But how?”
“It seems we have a new benefactor,” Godunov said. “I’m almost sure that this man is working for one of our competitors, but there is a remote possibility he’s legit. He was looking for work, and so naturally, I sent him to you.”
Volkov wanted to laugh out loud. The one enjoyment he got from dealing with Godunov was the man’s penchant for being extremely careful in his telephone conversations. Volkov had assured him time and again that this particular connection was scrambled, and only the very best electronic communications thieves in the world could perhaps decrypt the complex algorithms utilized to mask their conversations, but Godunov insisted on keeping the talk all business.
“What are you looking for me to do with him?” Volkov asked.
“That would be entirely up to you. Although I believe you will probably need to subsidize your staff, given your recent turnover, yes?”
So the bastard wasn’t planning to let it go. Stick the knife in and turn it a few times just to make sure he kept Volkov in what was “his place.” Well, the Wolf knew how to play that game as well, and he wasn’t planning to fall into Godunov’s trap so easily. This situation would require deft handling, at best.
“Yes, I believe I could find a place for him here. Do you have the details?”
“He goes by the name Lambretta. I’m having him checked out as we speak.”
“He has other connections?”
“He indicated as much,” Godunov said. “Although I don’t believe he’s friendly with those particular contacts anymore. He was away on an extended business trip for some time and is now back in the area looking to establish a new territory with new clients. Based on what I’ve seen of his résumé, he might prove useful to you. Assuming his references check out, of course.”
Of course, Volkov thought, but he said, “I will await his call then.”
“Yes, do.”
“I assume that your other assets are intact?”
“It would seem so. I’m still inspecting them.”
“You’ll let me know, then, if something is damaged or missing.”
“Of course,” Godunov replied, but not without some acid in his voice.
“I shall wait to hear from you.”
Volkov hung up and rubbed once more at his temples. So, another riddle had presented itself for him to decipher. Volkov had to wonder if this mysterious stranger that showed up with Lutrova was the same one who’d killed his men. It didn’t seem improbable, but Volkov couldn’t risk killing the man out of hand, either. If he checked out and Godunov thought he could be of some use, Volkov wouldn’t turn it down; at this point, he’d already taken significant losses among his ranks.
The Wolf always kept his operations relatively small. At no time did he employ more than twelve individuals, and that number had just been cut by one-third. He had other resources upon which he could call at a moment’s notice, but as he only employed freelancers, none of them were bound to take any assignment he offered. It seemed almost too convenient that this new opportunity would have dropped so easily into their laps, but Volkov was willing to take a chance if Godunov vouched for it.
This way, he couldn’t be held responsible if something went wrong. It would all fall onto Godunov’s shoulders, and Volkov could walk away clean.
The regular extension, the one used for public business, buzzed, and Volkov picked it up immediately.
“I’m looking for the Wolf,” the caller said.
“You’ve got him.”
“I