In the Crosshairs: Russian Historical Thriller (Nikolai Volkov Book 2) Page 2

  “Are you his bodyguard?” Marina looked at Nikolai expectantly.

  “Not a bodyguard,” Nikolai said. “I was hired to protect Roman Mikhailov’s property, including the car we were riding in when the bullets hit it. I did my best to protect the car from damage but failed to do so.”

  “Right.” Marina smiled briefly. “And that’s exactly how I will describe your job.”

  Immediately, Nikolai felt a liking for Marina. Over the next twenty minutes, Nikolai and Roman told Marina Petrova about the day’s events and about Grisha. Marina listened and wrote on a spiral notepad while the forensics team took pictures of the car from different angles, measured distances, and dusted the Mercedes for fingerprints.

  Gradually, the activity slowed down. The forensics team packed up their equipment and left. The Mercedes was loaded onto a tow truck. Marina put away her notes and handed Roman and Nikolai her business cards.

  “Call me if you think of anything else. I’ll be in touch as well.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “Do you need a ride? I’d be happy to take you.”

  “That’s all right,” Roman said. “I’ll call my other driver. He can get here pretty quickly.”

  “I’m already here,” Marina said. “And it’s no trouble at all. Really.” She pointed to a dark blue Nissan Sentra parked a few meters away. “You need to get back home, not stay on the open highway waiting for a ride.”

  “Thank you,” Nikolai said and addressed Roman. “Marina is right.”

  Roman nodded, thanked Marina, and the three of them headed towards the Nissan. Marina got in the driver’s seat, Nikolai sat next to Marina, and Roman climbed into the back. For the first few minutes, they rode mostly in silence. The moments that preceded the shots and Grisha’s death kept replaying in Nikolai’s head. The slowing down, the offer to switch drivers, the phone call, the continuation of the drive, and then... Nikolai felt responsible for Grisha’s death. He had failed in his duty to protect, and a man had died.

  “Who was that call from?” Nikolai asked Roman.

  “From Tatiana. My wife.” Roman paused. “If it had been anyone else, I would have let it go and called them back later.” He paused. “If there were a later.”

  Marina, perhaps sensing the heavy mood in the car, turned on the radio. For a few moments, the car filled with the soft graceful music from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake ballet.

  “Sorry,” Marina said and changed the station to jazz. “That’s the last thing you want to hear now. I can’t listen to it the same way anymore.”

  “I know what you mean,” Nikolai said. Like most Muscovites, Nikolai used to love that ballet, but lost his liking for it in August 1991. Those few days in August were probably the most dramatic time in the recent Russian history, the time of the coup attempt when a group of communist hardliners and military leaders ousted Mikhail Gorbachev. For the three days of the coup, as desperate Russians tried to find any information about the dramatic events, the only available television program was the continuous broadcast of the Swan Lake. Largely due to brave actions of Muscovites led by Boris Yeltsin, the coup failed, but a few months later, so did the Soviet Union, effectively ending Gorbachev’s presidency. The Soviet Union, Gorbachev’s era, and Nikolai’s love for The Swan Lake ballet ceased to exist.

  “That’s the house,” Roman said, and Marina pulled over to a tall massive fence with a wrought-iron entrance gate.

  Roman and Nikolai thanked Marina, stepped out of the Nissan and walked inside the estate.

  Two guards dressed in the uniforms of a private security company stood on either side of the gate. They looked to be in their mid-thirties, a few years older than Nikolai. One was tall, fit, blond, clean-shaven, with an impeccably fitting uniform and a tidy military-style crew cut. Roman introduced him as Pyotr. The other guard, Vasily, was shorter and stockier, with hair a tad too long and an ill-fitting uniform.

  “Please accept our condolences, Roman,” Pyotr said.

  “Thanks, Pyotr,” Roman said.

  “Kakoi koshmar.” Vasily shook his head.

  What a nightmare. That same phrase again.

  “Poor Grisha,” Pyotr said. “Vasily and I are both so relieved you aren’t injured, Roman.”

  Roman thanked Pyotr and Vasily again and gestured for Nikolai to continue down the path. A slender young woman dressed in jeans and a dark green top ran up to them. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a ponytail, and her expression was a mixture of worry and relief.

  “Are you all right?” She rushed to Roman. “Kakoi koshmar. I was so worried about you as soon as they told me.”

  “I’m fine,” Roman said and hugged her. “This is Nikolai. He’s here to help with the safety procedures for the new compound. And to ensure that what had happened today doesn’t happen again.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Nikolai said.

  “Thank you,” Roman turned to Nikolai. “Tatiana, my wife.”

  They followed the wide tree-lined path to the heavy double doors of the house and walked inside. The entryway was bright and airy, with a large crystal chandelier lighting it. A spiral staircase was to their right. In front of them was a large living room with elegant sofas, armchairs, and coffee-tables. The walls were painted beige and tastefully decorated with landscape paintings.

  They entered the living room and sat down on a black leather sofa. Tatiana kept fussing about Roman, concern and love obvious in her demeanor. Not wanting to intrude on an intimate moment, Nikolai got up and walked to the large window overlooking a lake. The blue water glistened in the sun, and a small rainbow was forming in the sky above it. The beauty and tranquility of nature felt odd on this tragic day.

  “Nikolai, I’ll be right back,” he heard Roman’s voice. “I need to go upstairs with Tatiana for a minute.”

  Nikolai turned around. Tatiana smiled slightly. “It’s time to change and feed the baby,” she said and took a step towards the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor.

  “I apologize, Nikolai,” Roman said. “I need to help Tatiana. I’m trying to be a good dad and would like to help more, but with all of this -- ” Roman swept his arm around. “ -- I have very little time left.”

  “I completely understand.”

  “You have kids, too?”

  “Not yet. I’m still working on finding a wife.”

  “Good idea,” Roman said.

  As Nikolai watched Roman put his arm around Tatiana and walk upstairs with her, his thoughts turned to Olga. He and Olga met when they were both students, fell in love almost instantly, and were inseparable for years. And now, he had not seen her or even talked to her for weeks, and he missed her more than he cared to admit. Their break-up was mostly his fault. He acted bossy and pushy when he tried to convince Olga not to take the new job she so wanted. He only wished to protect her, but she took it as jealousy and the desire to control. He thought back to their last phone conversation. When she hung up on him, he felt hurt and angry. Later, he called her on at least three different occasions but she never called back.

  As Nikolai watched Roman and Tatiana, he longed for Olga’s affection and love. The clock struck on the half hour, its melodic sound reverberating in the spacious hallway. Nikolai shook off his thoughts and forced himself to focus on work. Immediately, his mind was teeming with possibilities.

  A former business partner, an angry ex-lover, or a brutal competitor were the first suspects. A staff member was another possibility, and Nikolai would need to look into each of their backgrounds to learn more. Of course, there would be an official investigation, but Nikolai wanted to conduct his own. He could not begin to think about the safety of the future house until the safety of the owner was ensured. His assignment suddenly became much more than merely designing an easy-to-protect building. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his thoughts.

  Roman walked back into the room. “All done.” He smiled. “I love being a dad. Tatiana and I waited so long for a child. We even thought we couldn’t have children.
And then Anastasia came along.”

  “How old is Anastasia?” Nikolai asked.

  “Three months,” Roman said. “Tatiana is a great mother. And she takes good care of herself.”

  Nikolai nodded, not sure what to make of the last comment. “Let’s talk about your possible enemies. Tell me about your current business associates.”

  “None right now,” Roman said.

  “Former ones?”

  “A few.”

  “Anyone you parted with on dubious terms?”

  Roman thought for a few moments, then said, “I can think of one in particular. Nikita Egorov.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  “We used to co-own a line of department stores. Things were going fine for a while, then the books wouldn’t add up. I started checking and found that Nikita was using company money for personal investments and fudging the books. When I confronted him, he denied it at first, then admitted. Eventually, our company got sued. Six months and a trial later, he was sent to prison, and he blamed me for it.”

  Nikolai nodded. Over the years of his work with Centurion Personal Protection Agency, he had seen a number of business disputes that ended quite ugly. Former partners became mortal enemies and settled their grudges both in court and outside the law. The latter was more common. These disputes and their criminal resolutions frequently led to cover-ups and more crime, resulting in outspoken journalists succumbing to mysterious illnesses, car bombs killing prominent businessmen on busy streets, corrupt judges taking bribes to sign false verdicts, and investigators planting evidence, out of fear for their families or in return for money or job advancement.

  “Please continue,” Nikolai said.

  “I’ve had some business experiences in the last few years that taught me, as the cliche goes, to expect the unexpected and not to be gullible. But Nikita and I were partners, so I had to trust him to a certain degree. He has a brilliant mind but tends to get into arguments, sometimes for good reasons, and often for no reason at all. He’s a risk taker, playing the market with exaggerated confidence, making decisions that often are too quick and sometimes irrational.” Roman thought for a moment, then added, “Of course, it’s hard to tell what’s rational and what’s not nowadays. Russian laws change faster than the weather in St. Petersburg, so being rational is a relative concept.”

  “Can I be direct with you?” Nikolai asked. “There’s something I need to know.”

  Chapter Four

  Roman looked at Nikolai intently for a moment before saying, “Go ahead.”

  “Do you think Nikita Egorov took out a contract on you?”

  Roman shrugged. “Anything’s possible,” he said in a tone that struck Nikolai as too casual. “But what would be his motivation, besides revenge? What would he gain from it?” He thought for a moment, then added, “Of course, knowing Nikita, revenge could be motivation enough for him.”

  “Tell me more,” Nikolai prompted.

  “Nikita was quite upset with me, to put it mildly.” Roman’s voice was calm and quiet, as if he was discussing a minor argument, not a brazen attack that killed the driver of his car. “That’s all I know.”

  “I’ll look into his background, of course,” Nikolai said. “I would also like to check all your staff members, everyone close to you.”

  “Sure. You can get everyone’s files from Mr. Samoilov, my property manager.”

  “Thank you, Roman. I’ll start with that and see where the leads take me.”

  “Keep me updated on the progress.”

  “Certainly. Meanwhile, my agency can provide extra protection for you and your family.”

  Roman grimaced. “That’s one thing Tatiana and I have been trying to avoid. Strangers in the house, watching us and following us.”

  “We’ll be as unobtrusive as possible. And it’s only a temporary measure. Our investigation usually goes quicker and yields better results than the official one. We share our findings with the police and let them take credit.”

  “Why would you do that? Doesn’t your company want some acknowledgement?”

  “Being on the good side of the police is all the acknowledgement we need. That way, everyone’s happy.”

  “I see.”

  “Your life will be back to normal very soon, I promise,” Nikolai said. “But we need to ensure your safety.”

  “I know.” Roman nodded. “Your boss doesn’t take any chances, and I have no doubt in his abilities. Or yours.”

  The clock in the hallway chimed nine o’clock.

  “Shall we take a tour of the property before it gets dark?” Roman said. “Even June days come to an end.”

  Nikolai got up and followed Roman outside. The sun was setting behind thin clouds, casting a faint pink glow over the sky. The sweet scent of blooming jasmine filled the evening air, reminding Nikolai of his long-gone childhood summers. His grandmother loved jasmine.

  “The construction site is all the way at the back, behind that line of birch trees,” Roman said. They passed by the blooming jasmine and followed the road to the far end of the property. A short but muscular man who looked to be in his mid-forties was quickly approaching them.

  “And here’s the man who knows everything about it. And I’m glad he’s still here,” Roman said. “Mr. Samoilov, my property manager.” Roman introduced Nikolai as the person in charge of security for the new development. “Nikolai will have the spare bedroom downstairs while he’s working with us. He’ll stay in it when he needs to,” Roman added. “I’ll let the two of you get acquainted and look at the property. Please make yourself comfortable, Nikolai. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  Samoilov greeted Nikolai politely but without enthusiasm. “How old are you?” he asked.

  “Twenty-eight,” Nikolai said.

  “A twenty-eight-year-old bodyguard,” Samoilov mumbled under his breath. “Who will they send here next...” He shook his head, then spoke in a louder voice, addressing Nikolai. “And you’re supposed to know about construction? Where and when did you learn so much?”

  “I’m not here to help with the construction,” Nikolai said. “Only with safety measures that need to be considered during construction. But because of what happened today, we may need to make some changes.”

  “We? And what changes?” Samoilov’s tone was aggressive now, his eyes narrow with irritation and displeasure.

  “I’ll tell you when I see the construction site. Right now, Roman’s safety is my priority. And it should be yours, too.”

  “Excuse me? I have delivery schedules, construction plans, and a short time-frame before the winter is back. This construction project is my priority.”

  “Understood,” Nikolai said. “But you do realize that if another assassination attempt succeeds, none of it will be your concern anymore. No Roman, and no construction project.”

  Samoilov huffed. “All right, let’s go see the area.”

  In silence, they walked around the line of birch trees and came to the far corner of the estate. The back gate, more massive than the front one but not as ornate, was open, and trucks were entering and exiting the premises. In the corner, a small crane was unloading lumber and bricks.

  “A lot is going on here,” Nikolai said. “Isn’t it too late in the day for all this activity?”

  “They want to get paid, so the time of day doesn’t matter,” Samoilov said. “See those lights?” He pointed up to the large overhead lights mounted on tall poles. “We can work twenty-four seven.”

  “What construction company is this?” Nikolai said.

  “Ivan and Associates.”

  “How many workers are on site every day?”

  “Between fifteen and twenty-five, plus the drivers, plus delivery vans that come and go.”

  “I see,” Nikolai said. “We have a problem.”

  “What problem? Everything has been going fine.”

  “Considering the events of this afternoon, everything is not exactly fine, so some procedures will need t
o be changed.”

  “I don’t see why we need to change things. There are no killers here. Don’t fix what’s not broken, as they say.”

  “They also say that absence of evidence doesn’t mean the evidence of absence.”

  Samoilov grimaced and shook his head. “What does that even mean?” he said after a short pause. “Are you playing with me?”

  “Not a good day for games today,” Nikolai said. “What I mean is this. A lack of problems in the past doesn’t mean a lack of problems in the future.” He paused. “Then again, an attempt on Roman’s life earlier today that resulted in Grisha’s death certainly qualifies as a problem, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Reluctantly, Samoilov nodded.

  Nikolai looked at him for a long moment, then continued. “We have to be prepared for anything, and we have to make sure that nobody who comes here can harm Roman. We need to tighten security while we investigate today’s attempt and ensure the killer is caught.”

  “But what does that have to do with construction? You’re overreacting. Roman knows Ivan, the owner of Ivan and Associates, very well.”

  “Knowing somebody doesn’t guarantee one’s safety. Considering the circumstances of today’s attempt, the fact that Ivan knows Roman makes him a potential suspect.”

  Samoilov scoffed. “You’re kidding, right? You need to have your head examined. Has anybody ever told you you’re paranoid?”

  “Yes, they have. Paranoia is in my job description.”

  “Glad to hear,” Samoilov said, his tone turning hostile again. “It’s not in mine.”

  “We need to suspend construction.”

  “Not a chance. I’m not making any changes.”

  Chapter Five

  For a while, Nikolai watched the various comings and goings at the construction site, then started walking back to the house. When he was a few steps away from the front door, a slight movement in the bushes next to the large picture window of the living room got his attention. Nikolai slowed down and looked closer. Somebody was hiding there, crouching. It was a man. He wore a baseball cap, jeans, and a dark green t-shirt. Nikolai pulled out his gun and kept walking. He was a few feet away from the man now but did not get a clear line of sight because of the thick bushes between them. His gun in his hand, Nikolai walked around and approached from the front. The man was crouching by the flower bed, looking down at the row of blooming spring lilies in front of him. He held a spray bottle and a small garden tool in his hands.