A customs agent asked me if I had anything to declare.
“Only that I’m happy to be back in the good old U.S. of A.,” I said.
He nodded like he’d heard it before. “Welcome home,” he mumbled.
And that was it. Maybe in these times of young rock stars and baby-faced Hollywood celebrities, nobody wonders why a thirty-year-old in jeans and sneakers flies in from Europe on his own charter jet. Or maybe it was the end of a long day and nobody gave a shit.
Captain Fennessy had ordered a town car for me, and the driver took the Jersey Turnpike to the Lincoln Tunnel, then went down Ninth Avenue to Bleecker.
I got out three blocks from my apartment and walked south toward Perry. I checked the cars and the windows along Bleecker. Nobody was staked out waiting for me to come home.
I unlocked the front door and climbed the stairs to my apartment.
It was exactly as I’d left it.
I dropped my bag and stashed what was left of the eighty thousand euros I had taken from the bank in Amsterdam. Then I dug Marta Krall’s Glock out of my bag. I had been ready to ditch it, but there had been no security at Amsterdam and even less at Teterboro. It was a nifty gun. A definite keeper.
And then I heard the scratching at the door. It was followed by a long-drawn-out meow. My cat was home. I opened the door a crack and Hopper strolled in, looking well fed.
“What’s new, pussycat?” I said.
I pushed the door shut, but it wouldn’t close. I swung it open wide to see what was holding it back.
And there they were. Three men, armed to the teeth.
“Welcome back,” one of them said.
Then they shoved their way into my apartment and shut the door.
Chapter 74
“BOY, AM I glad to see you guys,” I said.
Zach Stevens, Ty Warren, and Adam Benjamin are Marines Corps — to the core. We met in boot camp, trained together, and fought side by side against ruthless fanatics in the mountains of Afghanistan and the streets of Iraq. Once I decided to become the Ghost, I knew I couldn’t do it on my own. And there was nobody I trusted more than these three. They were my best friends in the world.
So I had hired them to be my backup and my bodyguards, and they’ve been living in apartment 1 ever since. They are loyal, lethal, and, while you’d never know it to look at them, kind of lovable.
We exchanged bro hugs all around.
“You’re lucky you didn’t get shot sneaking in here,” Adam said. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming back?”
“I was going to knock on your door at a more civilized hour. How did you guys know I was home?”
“You tripped the silent alarm,” Zach said.
“No I didn’t,” I said. “I totally bypassed—”
“Sorry, boss,” Zach said. “I’m talking about the
“You had a nasty-ass visitor the other day,” Ty said. “We figured she’d be coming back.”
“What did she look like?” I said.
Zach took a picture out of his pocket and handed it to me. It was a black-and-white screen grab from the closed-circuit camera at the front door.
“Her name is Marta Krall,” I said.
“She tried to pass herself off as one of your art teachers,” Zach said.
“Well, I guess I taught her a few things,” I said. “And we don’t have to worry about her ever coming back. She flunked the final.”
None of them even blinked; kill-or-be-killed was in our DNA.
“We’ve been at threat-level red since she showed up,” Ty said. “You think we should ease it back to orange?”
“If Marta Krall was the only one who wanted me dead, I wouldn’t even bother locking the front door,” I said. “But I’ve made a lot of new enemies recently.”
“Don’t worry about it, Captain,” Adam said. “Nobody is getting in here.”
“What are we looking for?” Zach asked.
I told them the whole story. Zelvas, Chukov, the diamonds, Paris, Venice, Amsterdam, Marta, and of course, Katherine.
“Where’s Katherine now?” Adam asked.
“New York,” I said. “At least I think she flew back to New York after she left me in Venice. I phoned her, texted her, but no response. She probably thinks I just want her back, so she’s avoiding me.”
“Knowing the Russian mob,” Ty said, “if they can’t find you, they’ll go after her.”
“You’re right,” I said. “That’s why I came back here. I want them to find me. Fast.”
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. Four rings later a voice that was laced with sleep and booze picked up.
“Chukov.”
“This is the Ghost,” I said.
Chukov woke up in a hurry. “Where the hell are you? Where are my diamonds?”
“I’m still in Amsterdam,” I said. “Your diamonds are back in New York.”
“Where? Who has them?”
“Matthew Bannon,” I said. “He couldn’t unload them. The kid is an amateur. He couldn’t sell a fire extinguisher in hell. By the time I tracked him down, he chickened out and skipped town.”
“Where’s Bannon now?” Chukov said.
“He flew back home. He’s holed up in his apartment, trying to figure out how to get rid of those stones,” I said.
“He’s in New York?” Chukov said. “That son of a bitch.”
“Relax, Vadim. I’m catching a flight out of Schiphol in a few hours. I should be in New York by tonight to wrap things up. I’ll call you then.”
“I’ll be waiting for you,” Chukov said.
I hung up and turned to my three bodyguards.
“Let’s ramp up, boys. The Russians are coming.”
Chapter 75
CHUKOV’S PHONE RANG.
He clenched his teeth and picked it up. “Hello, Nathaniel. I was just going to call…”
“They sent for me,” Prince screamed.
“Who sent for you?” Chukov said.
“Who do you think? The heads of the Syndicate. You’ve made so much goddamn noise trying to find my diamonds that they found out Zelvas was stealing and now they want answers.”
“But Zelvas was only stealing from us,” Chukov said.
“That’s not the way they will see it. Now, where the hell are my diamonds?” Prince screamed.
