He wastes no time on pleasantries when I answer the phone. “Have you found her?”
Even though I’d located her three days ago, I lie. “Just today.”
“And?” he prompts.
“She’s in a small town called Cranberry, north of Pittsburgh.” I don’t offer anything more.
Anatoly is silent for a few moments, but his next words catch me by surprise. “Take her out.”
“Take her out?” I repeat.
“Yes, yes,” he exclaims impatiently. “Eliminate her.”
“When?”
“Now,” he snaps. “Get it done and return to New York.”
I grit my teeth. Sometimes, he’s like an overgrown child, despite the fact that we’re both thirty-five. “I need time to plan this so it’s done cleanly with no blowback on me and, more importantly, on you. I’ll need to watch her for a bit to get to know her patterns. Figure how I’m going to do it. Where to dispose of her.”
“Throw her in the fucking Allegheny River for all I care,” he growls. I can just envision him in his office right now, pacing back and forth in front of his desk, fists clenched and desperate for me to carry out his dirty work. I’ve come to know him well in the past two years.
I take in a breath before slowly letting it out. “I’m your man, Anatoly. I can do this, but you’ve got to give me the time to be clean about it. I’m not going to fucking prison over some chick who broke your heart, whom you now want offed.”
Anatoly snarls. “Watch it, Griffin.”
At my peril, I ignore his warning. Anatoly Bogachev is extremely volatile and dangerous. “I need at least a few weeks. She’s not going anywhere. I’m watching her closely. Once I have her all figured out, I’ll be able to take her out in the way that best protects us all.”
“Fine,” he mutters. “You have two weeks.”
“Thank you,” I reply softly, knowing he prefers to be addressed reverently to soothe his ego.
“And she didn’t break my heart,” he adds gruffly. “But she’s a dangerous liability, which is all you need to know.”
“I’ll handle it,” I assure him.
His reply is a quick disconnect of the phone.
The countdown starts.
?
Leaning against the headboard of my hotel bed, I cross my hands over my stomach and ponder. It’s not hard to put things together. Anatoly wants Bebe Grimshaw dead. She got sent to prison for a thirty-five-year stretch around eight years ago for a crime, and she’d refused to name her co-conspirators. She’s now free long before she’d be eligible for parole, and I’ve yet to figure out how she accomplished that.
Anatoly knows she’s out of prison earlier than should be possible, and he doesn’t want her to have an attack of conscience.
But why is she in western Pennsylvania when her roots are in Ohio?
I think about her actions over the last few days of tailing her. I rode my Harley down from New York because the weather was gorgeous for the end of September, but I’ve since rented a car. The pipes on my Harley are far too loud to be inconspicuous.
One thing I’ve noticed is how wary Bebe is. It’s obvious by how she’s always scanning her surroundings when she’s out and about. She takes different routes into the city when she goes to work, and she carries a gun in her purse. Through her windows, I’ve watched her take it out in the evenings before she goes to bed. She carries it upstairs long after her mom and son have gone to bed, and I imagine she puts it under her pillow or by her nightstand.
She’s scared of someone coming after her.
I’m betting that someone is Anatoly.
But still… how the fuck did she get out of prison? Her crime was serious. Yet, here she is, living a free life before paying her dues.
And what in the hell does she do for a living?
That first day I followed her into the city, I was shocked when she drove deeper into the seedier part until she’d finally pulled into an underground parking deck of an abandoned warehouse.
Except… it wasn’t abandoned. There was a box near the rolling steel gate she’d peered into, which I’m sure it scanned her eyes. If that’s the case, she’s once again involved with some high-tech shit. Possibly another hacker group?
Anatoly runs a criminal syndicate loosely known as Kobaloi. His family backing is the Russian mob, but over the years—because he’s smart as fuck—he moved more into black-hat crime. It’s a means of hacking individuals and organizations for monetary profit. It’s far more lucrative than mob work, which basically squeezes lessers to funnel riches up the food chain and launder money. I’m one of a handful of hired muscle he uses for any job he can think of, but mainly for protection.
Mob politics are extremely dangerous, and there are plenty of people who hate Anatoly.