“Cab Forty-two to Dispatch. Our passenger is still MIA. What do you make of it?”
I radioed back. “Dispatch to Forty-two. He’ll be here. He just wants to see me sweat. It isn’t working.”
One of the most critical skills a combat Marine has to hone is patience. I had once sat in a sniper’s nest for seventy-two hours without moving. This assignment was much harder. Knowing that Katherine was in the hands of a sadistic maniac like Chukov made every minute drag and every quarter hour endless.
I paced from one end of the waiting area to the other. The escalator from the MetLife Building whirred quietly. No one had set foot on it for twenty minutes. The traffic in Grand Central had thinned out dramatically. That, at least, was a plus. Fewer people. Less chance of hitting an innocent bystander.
I was ready. My team was ready. But where the hell was Chukov?
Eleven fifteen. Eleven thirty. Eleven forty-five.
At three minutes before midnight, my cell rang. The caller ID said it was coming from Katherine’s phone. I answered. The voice on the other end was ice cold and menacing. It was Vadim Chukov.
“It’s over,” he said.
“Over? Where are you?” I said. “I’ve been standing here in Grand Central with your diamonds since ten o’clock.”
“Shove them up your ass,” he said.
“What are you talking about? We have a deal.”
“The deal is off,” he said. “You lied. You sold the diamonds in Amsterdam.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “I tried, but I couldn’t. I have them right here in my hand.”
“You want to know what’s in
He hung up.
I stood there shaking. Unable to breathe. Sweat pouring off me.
Chapter 86
“FORTY-THREE TO DISPATCH.”
It was midnight, and Ty was doing his quarter-hour call-in from Lexington Avenue.
“Slow night,” he said. “No passengers.”
“This is Dispatch to all cabs,” I said. “I just got a call. The Russian isn’t coming. He’s backing out of the deal.”
None of us said a word as each man on the team let the bad news penetrate. And then Adam broke the silence.
“Forty-two to Dispatch. We may have some signals crossed. You said the Russian isn’t coming, but his Benz just pulled into the loading zone at the Grand Hyatt.”
The Hyatt was next door to Grand Central. “There are a lot of Benzes in this city,” I said. “Are you sure it’s his?”
“Hold on,” Adam said. “Let me put on my reading glasses.”
Adam’s reading glasses were a three-thousand-dollar pair of 13x Steiner sniper-grade binoculars.
“Affirmative,” he said. “He’s in the front seat, passenger side. There are people in the backseat, but I can’t get an angle on them.”
“Forty-five to Dispatch.” It was Zach calling in from Vanderbilt. “I have three men looking for a taxi. I recognize two of them from this afternoon. You should see them in a few seconds.”
Even as he spoke, three men in dark suits walked through the Vanderbilt entrance and down the stairs. One of them pointed to the three spots we had targeted on the map, and each headed for his assigned place.
I tried to process the new information. Chukov was outside the terminal. His men were taking their positions inside. I was trying to make sense of it all when my cell rang.
It was Chukov.
“So, Mr. Bannon,” he said. “Do I have your attention?”
“Undivided,” I said.
“It’s painful when you think that something you love is gone forever, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s how I felt when you ran off with my diamonds. You have experienced only a moment of pain, but I have the power to make your pain last a lifetime. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” I said. “I want to see Katherine.”
“And I want to run my blade from her perky little nipples to her creamy white thighs. Let’s see which one of us gets what he wants. Where are my diamonds?”
“Right here in my hand,” I said. “I didn’t sell them.”
“I didn’t think you did,” Chukov said. “I don’t think you could. You know why? Because you don’t have the brains and you don’t have the balls. Where are you now, Bannon?”
I gave him my exact location.
He hung up.
A few seconds later, Adam reported in.
“The Russian just got out of the Benz. The back doors are both opening. People are getting out. One man…a second man…”
I held my breath.
Finally Adam came back on. “And a woman. Matt, it’s Katherine. She’s headed your way.”
I exhaled and gave the command I had been waiting to give all night. “Dispatch to all cabs — go to Position Bravo right now. Let’s do this.”
Chapter 87
THE NEXT THING I saw made me want to throw up.
Vadim Chukov — the short, fat, tattooed, asthmatic turd who had sat naked, sweating, and in total fear for his life that morning in the Russian and Turkish Baths — was walking down the wide marble passageway from 42nd Street. He was brimming with confidence, and he was arm in arm with Katherine.
I’d always told her that it was impossible for her to look anything but beautiful. Even when she wakes up with bedhead and no makeup, she exudes a beauty that comes from her soul.
But now that soul was badly damaged. I wanted to blame it all on the fat bastard at her side, but I knew the truth. It had started with me. First I brought Katherine into my life; then I dragged her into my world.
Chukov and Katherine stopped at the foot of the passageway. Two more Russian punks stood behind them. High above them was Old Glory — the giant American flag that had been suspended from the ceiling in those dark hours following the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001.
Chukov spotted me instantly. Then he looked up at the vast expanse of stars and stripes — the flag I had fought for, the colors so many of my fellow Americans had laid down their lives for — and the Russian son of a bitch slowly extended his middle finger.
He looked back across the vast cavern of Grand Central and threw me a mock salute.
He took his phone from his pocket and dialed. Seconds later, my cell rang.
“I’m ready to do business,” he said. “Bring the diamonds here.”
“Send Katherine over here,” I said. “I’ll put the diamonds down and we’ll leave quietly.”
“
