The Upside of Death

A kind of death. Part 15

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The black Mercedes drew up outside the front door, the engine cut out and the headlights dimmed. Vronsky stood under the porch light as Flint emerged from the rear seat. Like the first time they'd met, Flint carried an air that made people keep a respectful attitude. Hair short and military, his suit in another class of income. The driver's bodyguard's bulk was squeezed into a chauffeur's black suit.

Flint strode over to Vronsky and snapped, "Unbelievable mess this is." Pushed past and entered the house.

He headed for the living room, his driver behind. Vronsky followed and opened a low cabinet to display a selection of liquor bottles. "Not necessary," Flint said. "This won't take long." He glanced at Semyon standing by the window.

Vronsky poured vodka, ignoring the glare from Flint. Let him realize who's in charge now.

"Is the girl here?" Flint asked. "Safe, unhurt?"

"She's upstairs, looking like she's on a pleasant outing."

"Something went right at least. What's she like? Obedient? Pesky?"

Semyon cut in. "She got tasty tits and a mouth made for sex."

Flint blinked.

"She's smart, smart enough to be sensible," Vronsky said. "She's not very frightened. It's like she knows something we don't."

"I'll tell you what I know," Flint said. "Once we got the image to the target, we were done. For the rest of his life and beyond, he would know we could take his kid anytime. As soon as the contract was locked away, she'd be freed. The question is, and it's the super-sized one, who the hell is this guy who waltzed in and screwed up everything?"

Vronsky drained his glass and poured another. The driver framed the doorway, arms folded. "She's saying he's her boyfriend, and our own observations agree with that. But it takes more than love to find your girlfriend. This is the part that's confusing us."

"Where do you think he's from?"

"Does it matter? It's a government organization. That's obvious. Only they would have so much surveillance ability to find us. Which means something else."

"Like what?"

"They watch her, and us, from long time ago." Vronsky tossed his vodka down. "Maybe they attach tracking device to our car."

"Damn right." Flint hadn't taken a seat, and now he paced. "That's what came to me. The snoops are watching already, and I'm just an ordinary Joe who's trying to land a contract. What the hell is their interest?"

"As I don't know your exact dealings, I can't answer. But they're only watching, not acting. Have we crossed with another operation they are more interested in?"

"Did you get a name off her?"

"We captured the boyfriend as I said and took his ID. His name is Zachary Bones. A journalist. She confirmed that much. She was too dopey to be questioned further at that time. We let the pills work their way through her system, then we can ask more."

Flint said to the driver, "Call the office. Get them to run a check on this Zachary Bones, journalist in Chicago."

The driver pulled a cell out of his pocket and pressed one button. His eyes never left Semyon while he murmured instructions to someone on the other end of the line.

"What did you do to him?" Flint asked.

"You said this was a quiet affair. No police involvement, correct? So we couldn't shoot him and leave him at the apartments. We'd have a police search to deal with. We taught him a short lesson only."