The Upside of Death

Vronsky goes it alone. Part 29

Yuri stopped the Cadillac in the car park of McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas.

"Get something plain with dark windows," Vronsky told him as he slipped out of the driver's seat.

Yuri stretched, then strolled along the rows searching for the right car. Vronsky pulled their three packs from the backseat. He hesitated over Keera's boots and jacket, but decided to leave them. As soon as Semyon's body was found he would be connected to the girl and her boyfriend anyway. The clothes added nothing new.

He inspected the interior for weapons left behind, wiped the steering, dashboard and door handles clean of prints with Semyon's spare shirt. Shouldering two of the packs and carrying the third, he waited for Yuri to return. Checked his bank account again. It was still showing five thousand dollars; it was no dream. When Yuri drew up in a charcoal Honda, he popped the trunk from inside. Vronsky lifted the packs in and took a seat in the back, handed the Caddy's exit ticket over.

"You make me feel like a taxi driver," Yuri half complained.

"I don't want the motel guy to see two people."

Yuri tapped the apartment address into the GPS and moved off. Vronsky stared out the window. The streets far too hot for strollers; heat waves radiated off used cars in lots.

At the reception, Yuri dealt with the desk clerk while Vronsky slid out of sight in the car. The tinted windows were enough to conceal him.

"We're on the second floor," Yuri said as they rolled down the ramp into the parking garage.

The room, furnished cheaply about thirty years ago, held two beds, one of them a single, one dark brown fabric-covered easy chair, and a crumbling television set on a counter that ran the length of one wall.

Vronsky watched the news, Yuri joining him when the screen showed Flint's car.

"The discovery of two bodies in a car on the outskirts of Sedona has sparked a police search for three Russians who may be involved," the female newsreader said. A new image flashed up and Vronsky swore at it. The three of them, crudely imaged but recognizable.

"It was a mistake to leave the boyfriend, eh?" Yuri said.

"It was a calculated risk. We needed him to facilitate the operation. But now things have changed." Because of you, Yuri, he wanted to shout. You and your stupid gun you pull out when you want to feel like a man. "It was the right decision," he said. "We had to get away and we can get to the girl again."

"You said she would be heavily guarded after this."

"I need a few seconds with her, that's all. Maybe an email would work, but a face-to-face has more effect. I'll know instantly whether to not she believes me."

The channel switched to other news and Vronsky turned the set off. "They are going public because they have the girl," Vronsky said. "They won't be expecting us to call them anymore."

"That's another decision you made I didn't agree with," Yuri said. He spread the contents of his pack out on a bed and was contemplating it. "I wouldn't have dumped her. She was our big advantage, our protection."

"You think it's easy to hide a hostage with only two men and keep moving at the same time? Our original plans called for a simple snatch, then a few days in one location. A long operation requires more people. This way is best."

"We should've had a discussion, debated a few ideas."

"While the cops were zooming all over the state looking for the Caddy?" What was this idiot thinking now? That he'd been promoted to special advisor?