'I said, on the ground!'
Kravchenko frowned. 'You are not wanting to see her alive?' He pulled out a silvered automatic pistol, the kind they used in gangsta rap videos and pressed it against her stomach. 'Now we have the Mexican standoff. Put down your gun, or I will shoot her.'
Logan shrugged. 'And?'
Pirie tapped him on the shoulder: whispering, 'I really don't think this is a good idea.'
'Shut up, Pirie.'
'But I am serious, yes? I will shoot your woman.'
'Logan, I really think we should bugger off and wait for that backup!'
Logan marched further into the room, gun never leaving the dead centre of Kravchenko's face. 'She's not my woman, she's yours.'
'I don't-'
'Go on, shoot her.'
'Logan, what the hell are you playing at?'
Kravchenko frowned, head tilted to one side. 'This is the reverse psychology, yes? You pretend to want I shoot Senior Constable Jaroszewicz?'
'She's not a senior anything — they fired her two years ago, for taking bribes from a bunch of German mobsters.'
'I am not understand…'
'The pair of you played me for a right bloody idiot. Oh yeah, Wiktorja was looking for Gorzkiewicz, but not for the Polish police. And guess who found him for you — me, like an idiot. It wasn't your handler who tipped off Ehrlichmann, was it, Wiktorja? It was you.' He glared at her. 'What did you do, text them when you were in confession? That it? 'Bless me Father, for I have sinned, oh and by the way, I'm selling out the stupid police officer from Aberdeen to my murdering bastard of a boss'?'
She shook her head, lank blonde hair whipping back and forth. Mumbling behind the gag.
'Bet you didn't expect to get shot. What, did they find out you were screwing Ehrlichmann over too? You weren't undercover, you were working for this… prick!'
'Logan, I really think we shouldn't be-'
'Shut up, Pirie.' Back to Kravchenko. 'She was the one told you how to find Rory Simpson, wasn't she? Where I was hiding him. All this bloody time, using me! So you know what, I'm calling your bluff.'
Pirie grabbed his sleeve. 'What the hell are you playing at? Don't-'
'Go ahead: shoot her.'
The old man shrugged. 'OK.'
And that's just what he did.
69
The gunshot echoed around the cavernous warehouse. Wiktorja stared down at the dot of black in the middle of her T-shirt as it spread out into a dark red stain. And then her legs gave way.
Kravchenko let go and she fell to the concrete floor, screaming behind the gag. Then he pointed his shiny gun at Logan. 'This is better?'
Pirie was swearing. 'Oh Jesus, oh fucking Jesus…'
Logan's mouth seemed to have stopped working. 'But… she… you…'
'Now we can get to business, yes?'
'You shot her!' Pirie pointed a shaky finger at the woman slowly bleeding out on the floor. 'SHE'S A POLICE OFFICER!'
'No. Detective Sergeant is right — she is not policja any more. She is interfering kurwa. She work for Ehrlichmann, try to find me for him.' Kravchenko smiled. 'But I find her first, no?'
The DS ran a hand through his ginger hair. 'You never said anything about killing her!'
Logan stared at Pirie. 'WHAT?'
'Why now you have conscience? You remember Luboslaw Frankowski?'
Pirie fidgeted. 'That was an accident. Didn't know the silly sod would take all the whisky and pills at once, did I?' He turned to Logan. 'I swear to God, I was only trying to keep him quiet — buy him a heap of booze, keep his mind off stuff. He was going to call the station and tell them everything… I didn't have any choice.'
Logan stared at him. 'You're in on it? Are you insane?'
'This wasn't supposed to happen, OK? It was just meant to be a chat, see if you were on the team or not. Nobody was meant to get hurt, it-'
'Hurt? He's been blinding people, you moron! Setting up a drugs war! Not some piddling little turf dispute — HE'S GOT FUCKING MACHINE GUNS!'
'What was I supposed to do? He's paying thousands. Thousands. Bloody city's rolling in oil money, why shouldn't we get a slice, eh? Why shouldn't we-'
'You knew about this from the start, didn't you? You knew
— you could have stopped it!' 'It's not like-' Logan jabbed the gun into Pirie's ear. 'I GOT BLOWN UP BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!'
Pirie backed away, hands up. 'I was just… It wasn't…' And then he turned and ran for it, bursting through the door and out into the office unit.
Kravchenko watched him go. 'Do not make worry, Grigor will catch him.'
Logan turned back. Wiktorja was lying on her side, knees curled up to her chest, dark red blood oozing out onto the concrete floor. She was shivering, moaning behind her gag. And it was all Logan's fault. 'She… wasn't working for you?'
Kravchenko leant back against the stack of I-beams, legs crossed at the ankle. 'This Pirie is weak man. Never have jajca to stand on own feet. Take money and do what is told. Man who can be bought is weak — I buy him from your Hamish Mowat, maybe someone will buy him from me too? But man like you…' Kravchenko clicked his fingers. 'What is word for 'idealistyczny'?… Ah: idealistic.'
Logan couldn't take his eyes off the expanding pool of blood. Feeling sick. 'We need to get her an ambulance.'
'Why you care? She is liar, yes? Make you into fool.'
Logan could barely hold the gun still. 'Get your arse on the floor, or I will shoot you.'
'You think I am too rough with her?' He nudged Wiktorja with his toe and she groaned. Her face was unbelievably pale, the bags under her eyes standing out dark purple. Kravchenko reached down and tore the duct tape gag from her mouth.
'Aaghh, Jesus…' Her lips were turning blue. 'Kill him…' She gritted her teeth. 'Kill him… please…'
'Why would Detective Sergeant kill me? I am his friend, but you… You use him to find me, I am thinking he does not like this.' He smiled at Logan. 'She pay man in Warsaw Police to tell her if anyone ask question about me. Is clever, yes?'
'You… you blinded… my father. You carved out his eyes!'
Kravchenko shrugged. 'I make blind many men. Maybe I make you blind too, before you die?'
She recoiled, trying to squirm away from him, hands still tied behind her back, but every motion made her cry out in pain.
Logan tightened his grip on the trigger. 'Get away from her. Now!'
Kravchenko reached into his pocket and pulled out the Swiss Army knife. 'When I am finish.' The little tin of lighter fluid was next.
'I'm not telling you again!'
Wiktorja stared at the knife's curving blade. 'Please no… Please! Prosze! Prosze, nie zabijaj mnie!'
Kravchenko grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her face up. She screamed. Logan braced himself, aimed — and the door behind him flew open.
Something went BOOM and the old man ducked. Then the delicate pitter-patter of shot rained down on the
