Wreckless Intentions Page 2

  “It’s settled, then. Son, this is your operation to run as you see fit; I’ll leave it to you and Viktor. An old man knows when it’s his bedtime,” said Romanovich, standing from his chair.

  As we poured out of his study, my father threw his arm around Viktor’s shoulders and ruffled his hair like he was a little boy; a rare playful moment for him. He’d always treated Viktor like a son—had partly raised him, and seemed more lighthearted with him. Perhaps, that was because he didn’t have the same expectations for him as he did me.

  “So, how does it feel to be back home, golden boy, feeling like a real Russian again? I hear America tends to make men go soft,” Anatoly said as he sidled up next to me.

  Was this fuck-tard serious?

  I stopped walking and turned to look at him unsmiling, letting my fuck-off glare speak for me. I sincerely hoped he wasn’t about to make me lay hands on him in my parent’s home.

  “Hey, can’t you take a joke? I was only kidding, Reaper,” Fredo said with a dumbass grin, hands coming up in a gesture of surrender.

  “I don’t do jokes, and I can’t abide stupid; I suggest you refrain from indulging in both,” I said icily.

  I saw a moment’s hesitation in his eyes before he replaced it with goofy-ass bravado; smiling like he wasn’t worried. If he were smart, he would be. His status as Sergei’s son wouldn’t protect him from getting dropped on his ass, or worse.

  “Hey, it’s all good, I meant no disrespect,” said Fredo.

  I didn’t bother responding as I turned to walk away. I don’t typically let ass-wipes like Anatoly goad me into a response. However, in our world—his comments were nothing short of him testing me. Unfortunately, I was certain Fredo wasn’t the kind to learn quickly. He wanted power and felt he was entitled to it. He was also stupid. There’d be another test, I was counting on it.

  Two

  25 Miles Outside of Moscow

  Podolsk, a large industrial city, located south of Central Moscow and lying on the banks of the Pakhra River, was the birthplace of my first business venture. The metals factory was one of many industries that thrived back then. Metals such as zinc, copper, lead, and aluminum were used in just about everything—and the higher the quality, the more marketable and profitable the product.

  The metals business in Podolsk wasn’t as abundant today as before, the economy now mostly centered on sciences and engineering. To that effect, quite a few research institutions were being dedicated to nuclear research and machine-building. The drawback to that was, all of the remaining and abandoned metals factories that still dotted the city. Though, for our purposes here this evening, it was considered an asset.

  “Griegor, I need another comms check before you go inside,” said Viktor, speaking through the tiny mic attached underneath the neck of his black hoodie.

  “That’s affirmative, Viktor, hearing you loud and clear,” Griegor confirmed.

  “Okay folks, heads up and eyes open out there, we’re a go. Stay alert, Griegor, if you sense something off use the code-word. As soon as the target is confirmed, use the signal, wait thirty seconds, then cover your asses. Got it?” Viktor instructed.

  “That’s affirmative, we’re exiting the car now,” Griegor confirmed once more.

  From our position almost a hundred yards away, Viktor and I watched as Griegor and the other five men got out of the two dark-colored SUV’s. The meeting had been long in the making and took a lot of planning. Jakov Mance, the former Albanian soldier, proved elusive as hell. He never dealt directly with any transactions; they were always conducted through a trusted contact. Griegor, a longtime weapons dealer and associate of Romanovich’s, had been grooming Mance’s contact, Sam, the past month. It took that long to convince Sam the deal wouldn’t go through unless Griegor met with Mance personally. Today was the day Mance would supposedly be at the meeting.

  This would be the first time anyone’s laid eyes on Mance in a couple of years. He was damn near a myth—like the proverbial wizard behind the curtain. Or more accurately, like Osama Bin Laden when he was hiding up in the Afghan mountains periodically making videotapes to prove he existed. Mance was rumored to be hard-up for weapons, so presumably, he’d agreed to Griegor’s terms. This meeting today might be our only shot at flushing him out.

  It was always advantageous to bring the fight to your enemies versus them bringing it to you.

  “Once we’ve gotten confirmation, Team A goes in first—that’ll draw out any men he has hidden. Team B will follow. You’ll wait for my signal; I don’t want you visible until Mance has been secured. Hopefully, still alive,” Viktor directed.

  “Last time I checked, I was the one giving orders,” I returned.

  “Not today, asshole. I promised Romanovich I’d bring us both back alive, which means I can’t have you going in there with guns blazing and bullets flying. You have but one target, cowboy, and that’s Mance. Let the men do their jobs,” dipshit replied.

  “I can handle myself—I’ve dealt with many dangerous men. I don’t see why I can’t go in there and show I’ve got balls,” I mumbled sullenly, giving my best impression of dumbass Anatoly from last night.

  Viktor stared at me nonplussed, before finally catching on and barking a laugh.

  That moron was with us today. Not by my choosing, but as a courtesy to Sergei. Fredo wanted in on the action so I’d grudgingly consented. He was with Team B; we’d see how well he could handle himself.

  “We’ve got sound,” Viktor alerted, gesturing for me to put my earpiece back in.

  We sat listening to what amounted to static and garbled chatter as the patterned sound of shoes slapping the floor signaled walking. About twenty seconds later, a voice that wasn’t immediately recognizable came in clearer. It must’ve belonged to one of Mance’s men.

  “Griegor, my friend, finally we get to do business,” said the voice, laced with an accent that wasn’t Russian.

  “It’s good to finally put a face to the voice, Sam, I think you’ll be happy with what I’ve got to offer,” Griegor replied.

  “By all means, let us take a look at what you’ve got,” the man prompted.

  Several thudding sounds were quickly followed by metallic clicking as the men laid the insulated cases down and opened them up. Inside the cases were military grade weapons. They included M16 and M4 assault rifles, M17 handguns, M84 stun grenades, a grenade launcher, as well as ammunition. It was only a sample of what Griegor could provide. In theory, if terms were met, he would deliver a full order. But, of course, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “And you can accommodate the quantity we require?” asked Sam.

  “I can supply you with whatever you need, even more than what you see here,” Griegor affirmed.

  It was a true statement. Unfortunately, scumbags like Mance were capable of getting their hands on mass amounts of weapons with ease.

  “I’m sure we can come to an agreement, though, there’s been a slight change in plans,” Sam said.

  “The agreement will depend upon the changes,” Griegor returned.

  The weapons dealer’s mild manner and small stature were not to be underestimated. He’d made a very profitable business dealing with violent, ruthless men. Griegor was intelligent and cunning; and could be just as equally ruthless.

  “My employer insisted I negotiate the deal, he had other matters that required his attention,” supplied Sam.

  “In that case, I guess we have no agreement. My terms were clear, I deal directly with whom I sell to,” Griegor held firmly.

  “Surely there are exceptions, my friend, I’m certain we can come to favorable terms,” Mance’s man insisted.

  “I do not deviate from the terms. So, I guess we’re finished here,” said Griegor. The cringing sound of metallic scraping and clicking followed.

  Shit. Griegor was closing up shop.

  “Wait! We have a deal, we’ll do business today,” Sam interjected, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “You must understand, my employer i
s a very cautious man, he does not make himself vulnerable unless absolutely necessary.”

  “We’re all vulnerable and cautious, it’s the nature of our business. If Mr. Mance is too busy to appear today, our business here is concluded,” came Griegor’s icy rebuff.

  “He is here,” Sam confirmed, “Excuse me a moment while I contact him.”

  “I have but five more minutes to spare,” Griegor asserted impatiently.

  I felt my adrenaline spike as I looked over at Viktor, our eyes communicating the same thing. Game On.

  We sat listening as Sam spoke from some distance away; speaking in Albanian, his native dialect. Presumably, he was talking into a cell phone.

  “Mr. Mance will be here in a few minutes,” he said after a moment.

  “Okay, that’s our signal, people! I need all eyes on the lookout for the target. He might be coming from any direction or already inside the building,” Viktor squawked through the comms mic.

  I grabbed the infrared night vision binoculars and scanned the area around us. It was only dusk, night hadn’t completely fallen, but the hi-tech binoculars were dual purpose. They provided sharp, long-range images; but with the built-in sensors, they would also pick up anything in the dark with a pulse.

  “I think I’ve got something,” a voice said over the comms, at the same moment I spotted movement.

  Headlights were approaching—coming from our left at nine o’ clock, several sets of them.

  “We’ve got three SUV’s approaching,” the voice confirmed.

  “Everyone hold your positions until there’s a visual on the target, move only at my command. Griegor, at my signal, pull that flash-bang and haul ass out of there,” ordered Viktor.

  The SUV’s kicked-up dust as they came to a hard stop one behind the other in front of the brown brick building. Several doors opened at once, and men came flowing out. I kept my binoculars trained on the vehicle in the middle, positive that was the one Mance would be in. As I stood up straight from my bent position looking out of the second-story window, one of the men opened the left back-passenger door.

  My pulse spiked at the sudden rush of adrenaline. A man who looked exactly like the photo we had of Mance stepped out of the SUV. He was of average height and build, in his late forties, dark-haired, and was wearing a dark suit.

  “That’s Mance,” I confirmed, looking at a clear image of the man through the lenses of the binoculars.

  “I second that—the target is confirmed. Griegor, go! Team A, move in!” Viktor barked.

  Pandemonium instantly erupted as flash-bang grenades went off, followed quickly by the rapid-fire bursts of automatic weapons being discharged.

  Both Viktor and I ran for the exit, booted feet pounding the ancient wooden stairs as we quickly made our way down to the ground floor.

  “Team B, move in now! GO! GO! GO! Take out those tires and watch your asses out there!” Viktor shouted as soon as we hit the pavement.

  I pulled one of my Sig Sauer’s from its holster as we rounded the building. The scene that played out a short distance away resembled that of a war zone as men shouted and scattered, smoke billowing from several different directions. Viktor clamped a staying hand to my shoulder as I readied to move.

  “That wasn’t the agreement—you’re to remain here until firing has ceased!” he growled.

  “I never agreed to that!” I shot back, before darting off towards the fray.

  “FUUCCKK!” Viktor roared behind me, right on my heels.

  Halfway across the tree-lined stretch of grass, I took cover behind a large metal garbage bin. Bringing up my Sig, I took aim at the closest man and pressed the trigger.

  He stumbled then collapsed. I took two more shots—only one missing its target.

  Shit. I was still too far away.

  Waiting until after Viktor ceased firing, I ducked from behind the bin and jogged closer, letting off three more shots.

  Two more men dropped.

  My heart drummed wildly in my chest as I advanced, senses hyperalert, eyes searching through the fray for Mance. Assuring the Albanian wouldn’t be coming out of this alive was my mission.

  But he was nowhere to be found.

  After gaining more ground, I hit the pavement and dove for cover—quickly rolling behind the nearest tree as bullets abruptly sprayed my way.

  “Cover your own ass—don’t worry about me!” I yelled out to Viktor, who’d crouched down behind a bush about eight feet away.

  “You can make your wife a widow on your own goddamn time!” he shouted back, a grim look on his face as he fired off several shots.

  When no more bullets blasted our way, I jumped back to my feet and quickly scanned the area—then ran full-stop until my back was pressed up against the side of one of the SUV’s.

  “Has anyone secured Mance?!” boomed Viktor’s disembodied voice through the earpiece. He’d vanished, I could no longer see him.

  “That’s a negative, the bastard’s disappeared!” came a frantic voice.

  “He’s inside the building! I’m in pursuit!” came another.

  Fuck.

  I used the SUV’s for cover as I headed for the building.

  “I’m inside the building—also in pursuit!” I reported.

  I paused to get my bearings, with night having fallen, it was now dark inside.

  Reaching up to pull the night-goggles down from my head, I settle them over my eyes then quickly remembered the layout from the plans we’d gone over the night before. Eyes scanning the corridor as I pressed forward, I kept my ears alert for sounds, breathing measured.

  “I’m entering the building!” Viktor’s voice broke the silence as I heard him enter behind me.

  There were few other sounds in this part of the building, I hoped that meant Griegor and his men had gotten out unscathed.

  “Raze, give your position!” Viktor’s voice rang crystal clear in the quiet of the corridor.

  The rapid tattoo of distant gunfire pierced the quiet as if in answer—an agonized wail following.

  I ran in that direction.

  “Son of a bitch! I’m hit—in the back of the building; east side!” came Raze’s response a second later.

  When I reached the end of the corridor, I turned right, headed east.

  “I want all exits covered now! Stand down, Raze, we’re headed your way!” Viktor ordered.

  “One of Mance’s men is still with him…be careful,” Raze cautioned.

  Once I’d made it halfway down, I spotted Raze, leaned up against a wall and holding a hand to his bloody shoulder. He waved for me to keep moving past him as I approached.

  After I had traveled another hundred feet, I caught movement up ahead.

  Pressing closer to the wall, I blended in with the shadows as I advanced, singularly focused on my prey. After another fifty feet, I took aim and fired several shots.

  A high-pitched cry rent the air—followed by several bullets that came flying my way.

  I fired off several more shots as I hit the floor, emptying the clip.

  By the time I’d quickly switched guns and got back to my feet, Viktor was right on my heels.

  “Your obvious death wish is puzzling!” he snarled, pissed.

  He already knew I wasn’t very good at taking orders.

  “Cover me!” I ordered, then forged ahead as he immediately laid down suppressive fire.

  When I reached the end of the corridor, there was only one door to the left. A fucking stairwell. A trail of blood started about ten feet away from it before leading inside.

  I fired several shots through the warped wood of the door before kicking it in—then spun quickly to the left for cover as my fire was returned.

  Adrenaline pumping, I gestured for Viktor to go in high as I crouched down low, then inched closer to the opening before ducking inside.

  A trail of blood led up the stairs, which meant one of the men inside were already hit. Hopefully, it would serve to slow them down.

  The buil
ding was only two floors and a roof, so their options were limited.

  We started up the stairs but paused, a noise sounding above us. There was a loud thud followed closely by something that must have fallen.

  I kept my gun trained in front of me as we continued up.

  When we got to the second-floor landing, there was more blood pooled there than below. Whoever was bleeding must have fallen, because a thinner trail of blood led through the now opened doorway.

  I stopped to listen for any sound, but the chatter coming through the comms was distracting, so I quickly removed the earpiece.

  Easing forward, I darted a look around the doorway and fired off a round of shots.

  When no fire was returned, I quickly entered, scanning the room, gun trained out in front of me.

  We’d entered a sizeable office space. At some point, it had likely housed cubicles but was now emptied of everything except a couple of old, abandoned desks and chairs.

  Advancing cautiously, I followed the blood trail about thirty feet until it veered abruptly right. A rustling sound alerted me seconds before bullets sailed my way!

  I dove swiftly to the side for cover—but rolled instantly back towards the darkened doorway and fired into it several times.

  A loud grunt and a bump followed.

  Springing to my feet, I approached carefully and saw the white crumpled form of a body on the floor ten feet away. Pushing the goggles up and away from my eyes, I slowly approached the body.

  It was the bodyguard, not Mance.

  After ensuring the man was actually dead, I turned back and strode towards Viktor. He pointed to his ear and then upwards. Towards the roof.

  Damn. I had taken my earpiece out and couldn’t hear a damn thing the men were saying.

  After sticking it back into my ear, I followed Viktor out of the room.

  “On our way up to the roof!” he alerted the team.

  We entered the stairwell and ascended. When we got to the top, a rusted, gray metal door stood ahead. Exiting could be tricky, Mance could be standing right on the other side ready to blow our heads off.

  However, the threat of flying bullets had never stopped me before.