“The boy, he doesn’t know what he’s—”
Anton holds up his hand. The effect is instant—a hush falls over the room.
“You came here claiming that you no longer had anything to do with Rodion Ivanov,” he snarls.
“That… that’s true.”
Anton turns to the boy. “Is it true? Don’t lie to me, boy.”
The boy doesn’t say anything for a long time. He might as well have fallen to his knees and confessed through tears. I don’t know the first thing about what’s happening and even I can tell that what he said is true.
Anton nods once and gets to his feet. Everyone else follows suit.
“You’re playing both sides, Benyamin.”
“That’s not—”
“It’s a dangerous game.”
“I’m not—”
The phone lying on the table between the two sofas rings, interrupting him. Anton answers wordlessly. Ten seconds later, he hangs up without saying a word.
“My men just checked the guns you sold us,” he says. “Pity for you all.”
The three men stiffen, but they’re as good as dead.
“Anton, wait!”
Anton’s eyes narrow as he raises his arm. I feel a spike of terror rattle through my body. The gun in his hand is unmistakable, but my brain is still trying to make sense of it all.
Maybe it’s fake. Maybe it’s a taser. Maybe it’s a threat, just a scare tactic. There has to be another explanation.
But then he pulls the trigger.
There is no sound, but the man in the middle drops to the floor. Blood puddles around his body.
And God help me…
I scream.