His bland features tighten. “You’re making a mistake, Sokolov. I’m not someone you want to fuck with.”
I bare my teeth in a humorless smile. “Neither is Esguerra, yet here we are.”
He stares at me, then jerks his head to one side. “Let them pass,” he orders, and I turn to see the wall of goons parting, their weapons lowered but postures tense. He doesn’t want it to get ugly, and I’m glad. Anton’s sniper’s rifle would’ve probably taken out a good three or four of Novak’s men, and the three of us could’ve gotten another seven or eight, easy, but bullets flying is never a good thing. The ultrathin bulletproof vests we’re wearing under our clothes wouldn’t protect us from a head shot, and as skilled as we are, we’re not immune to lead.
“You’re making a mistake.” Novak raises his voice as we head to the exit. “Mark my words, Sokolov. You’re making a big mistake.”
I don’t respond, and we walk out onto the busy street, blending in with the pedestrians as we head back to our meeting place.
“He’s not going to come through,” Anton says as we fill him in on what happened over dinner at a local restaurant. “We wasted our time. Whatever asset he’s got at Esguerra’s compound must be the real deal, if he’s guarding it so carefully. He’s not going to tell us what it is, so we might as well forget it. You saw some of the other offers we got recently, right? They’re not bad either. We do a few of those gigs, and there’s our hundred million. We don’t need Novak and his secretive shit.”
I nod, cutting into my steak. “I agree. Let’s focus on other jobs.”
Yan raises his eyebrows. “Really? Just like that?”
I meet his gaze. “We’re not going to go into this blind, and Novak isn’t going to come through, so we’re done here. Is that a problem? Because I got the impression you weren’t pleased when I wanted to take this job.”
Yan stares at me, and I stare back at him, my expression calm. I can feel the growing tension between us, but I can’t afford not to play this game.
As far as I can see, there’s only one way forward for me and Sara, and this is my best shot at it.
“I think Peter and Anton are right,” Ilya says, breaking into the uncomfortable silence. “We don’t need this job. It’s too risky. Let’s just do a few extra gigs instead.”
I fork a piece of steak into my mouth, chew it, and swallow. “It’s decided, then,” I say and pick up my water. “We’re done here. Tomorrow morning, we fly home.”
I lie awake, listening and waiting, and at four in the morning, I hear it.
The quiet snick of the hotel room lock opening and the squeak of hinges as the door starts to move.
I react instantaneously, my body moving like a coiled spring. In a blink of an eye, I have the intruder on his knees, immobilized in a chokehold as I crouch behind him, holding a gun to his temple.
He’s choking and writhing, trying to escape, but he doesn’t have the leverage to either hit me or throw me off, and each bucking movement only depletes his air supply.
“Who sent you?” I ask when his frantic struggles start to weaken. “Why are you here?”
I loosen my hold just enough to let him have some air. He resumes fighting, so I tighten my arm again, cutting off his air supply completely. This time, he only lasts a few seconds, and I loosen my grip just before he slips into unconsciousness.
“Who sent you?” I repeat, and he finally sees the wisdom in cooperating.
“N-Novak,” he chokes out hoarsely.
“Why?” I press, not letting go. I already know what he’s going to say, but I want to hear it from him anyway.
“He… wants to see you,” the thug gasps out. “Just you, no one else.”
I tighten my grip, as if upset, but then I let go and stand up, simultaneously shoving him forward to sprawl face down on the floor. While he’s sucking in air and struggling to get up on all fours, I turn on the light and put on my winter jacket and boots. The rest of the clothes I’m already wearing, as I was expecting just such a visit.
“You win,” I tell the thug when he glares at me, resentfully rubbing his throat as he clambers to his feet. “Lead the way.”
My gambit of staying at a hotel in Belgrade has paid off. It’s time to see what Novak has up his sleeve.
18
Peter
A black limo is waiting for us by the hotel entrance, and when I climb inside, I see Novak there.
“That wasn’t very welcoming of you,” he says when the thug climbs in next to us, still rubbing his throat and glaring at me like he wants to incinerate me on the spot. “Victor was merely conveying my polite invitation.”