From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set (24 page)

CHAPTER TWEN
TY-ONE

In the warehouse surrounded by his car collection, which wasn’t
there only to look at and to touch but also to remind him how successful he
was, Illarion Katzev leaned against his prized three-million-dollar Bugatti
Veyron Super Sport Vitesse, watched the video twice, read Carmen’s note three
times, and then he watched the video again.

He was incredulous.
 

Somehow, Carmen Gragera had tracked down where his family
lived.
 
She only ever knew him as a
Russian.
 
How did she learn the
truth that he was a Scot named Iver Kester from some backwater farm in Aberdeen
known for its cheese and that, in the States, he lived in a penthouse on Fifth
Avenue, for which she provided the exact address?
 

Did Alex tell her this before he was murdered?
 
He must have, which proved that the
intelligence they thought Alex had on the syndicate ran as deep as they
imagined.

But did it run deeper?

Just how much information had he gathered and shared with
her?
 
How much did he know about
him?
 
The syndicate knew about the
security breach, but they weren’t exactly sure how much information he came
away with because of that breach.

Had he learned the names of the other members of the syndicate
and shared them with Carmen?
 
What
they did, where they lived?
 
He
closed his eyes and willed it not to be true, hoping that the odds were on his
side if only because of the stringent safeguards they had long since put into
place to protect each member’s anonymity via encryption software.
 

If only because of those precautions, there was a chance that
Alex didn’t know everything when he died.
 
He may have been on the cusp of learning more, but his death would have
robbed him of that.
 
As slight as it
seemed to him now, there still was a chance that his intelligence ended with
Katzev.
 
Illarion prayed that was
the case because if it wasn’t, he knew that Alex would have told Carmen
everything.

He lifted his head to the high warehouse ceiling and considered
the situation.
 
Certainly, at this
point, if she did know everything, she would have used that knowledge in an
effort to get Chloe back.
 
Or was
she holding back, waiting for the right moment to use it for a greater purpose?
 
He wasn’t sure.
 
What he did know is that whether Carmen
knew everything or not, the fact that she had tracked down his family and knew
so much about him proved she knew enough to be more dangerous than he
imagined.
 

Somehow, he had to take her out.
 
Fast.

There were a few ways he could handle this.
 
He thought them through, knowing that
within an hour, if he was going to save his family, he’d need to come through
with an answer.

The question is whether he wanted to save his family.
 

Katzev, who was raised knee-deep in sheep shit by a
strong-willed family who broke every child labor law known to man while he was
growing up, didn’t feel much of anything for them, with the exception of his
mother, for whom he felt a tug of something.
 
Love?
 
He wasn’t sure.
 
Did he even know what love was?
 
Wasn’t sure.
 
But there was something there.
 
Love?
 
Damned if he knew.

When he went home each year, it was more to see his mother,
with whom he had an emotional connection that, he supposed now, upon
reflection, might as well be love.
 
As for the rest of them?
 
They could go to hell as far as he was concerned.
 
He’d never been close to his brothers or
sister, uncles, aunts or cousins, and while they feted him for his successes in
the States when he did go home, he nevertheless sensed a strong undercurrent of
jealousy from the men, which is one of the reasons he refused to give them any
assistance.

If Katzev wanted to, he could put the Kester cheese in markets
all over the world.
 
With a phone
call, he could set things into motion that would improve his family’s
lives.
 
Through his connections,
they could be wealthy beyond their wildest dreams.

But he’d never do it.
 

The only reason they celebrated him when he came home was
because he knew that one day, they hoped he’d share his money with them.
 

It’s nothing they’d ever ask him directly—the Kesters
were a proud lot and they’d lose everything before they ever sank so low as to
ask for a handout—but if Iver ever offered, he knew they’d leap.

He played the video again and watched his mother’s face when
she spoke.
 
“You should be here now,
Iver.
 
Take this man seriously and
come home.
 
Things aren’t good
here.
 
Things are desperate.
 
We need you now.
 
Not tomorrow.
 
Now.
 
Before it’s too late.”

She looked frail to him.
 
Thinner than he remembered.
 
When he was young, she was strict, but never cruel.
 
She protected him from his father, who
could be brutal, if she felt her husband was being too hard on him, which was
often.
 
Because of her, he’d been
spared many beatings.
 
Should he
return the favor and save her and thus the rest of them?

He didn’t know the answer.
 

If he didn’t get to Carmen immediately, there was no telling
what she’d do with whatever information she had on him and the syndicate.
 
His mother did mean something to
him.
 
He did remember good times
with her.
 
He remembered once, when
he came home from school with one of his many stellar report cards, that she
hugged him and praised him.
 
She
often told him she thought he could go far, well beyond the farm, and that he
should live his dreams in spite of the farm.
 
She was one of the first to encourage
him to reach beyond.
 
He appreciated
that, but the syndicate was his and Laurent’s child.
 
For years, they built it together and
they, along with its members, prospered wildly because of it.
 
So, which was it?
 
Mother or child?
 
What would a mother do?
 

Save the child.

He looked across the room at Chloe Philips and saw her looking
straight back at him.
 
In Carmen’s
case, what would a mother do?
 
Same
thing.
 
Save the child.
 
He knew her skills as well as her vast
amount of contacts and he couldn’t underestimate them in this area.
 
If she came for him, he knew she’d bring
everything she had.
 
He also knew
she’d die for that child.

He needed advice, but not from the syndicate.
 
They’d just bicker and complain that
they’d been taken away from their lives again and then a cluster fuck of
in-fighting would ensue about how best to deal with the situation now.
 

So, he wouldn’t use them.
 
He was, after all, their leader.

He clicked over to his cell and knew that when he dialed the
number he was about to dial, it would cost him upwards of five millions dollars
or more for the guidance and assistance he needed.
 

Still, Vincent Spocatti was the best.
 
They understood each other.
 
For years, they’d had a great working
relationship.
 
And unlike any other
assassin Katzev had worked with, only Spocatti valued money more than anything,
including personal relationships, which was critical because Katzev knew
Spocatti had worked with Carmen.
 
Would he kill her for him?

Absolutely.
 

All Katzev had to do was let Spocatti name his price and then
wire half the money to his account, which he was prepared to do, and then the
other half when the job was done.

He dialed the man’s number.
 
A moment passed before Spocatti
answered.

“It’s Katzev, Vincent.”

A beat passed and Spocatti laughed.
 
“What took you so long?”

“What does that mean?
 
You’ve been waiting for me?”

“Of course, I have.
 
You’re screwed without me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“There’s very little I don’t know, Katzev.
 
You know that.
 
I’m fully aware of the situation you’re
in.
 
When do you need me there?”

“Immediately.”

“I figured as much.”

“What’s that sound I hear?”

“I’m on a plane,” Spocatti said.
 
“Just a few hours outside of New
York.
 
And here’s a tip—until
the other airlines catch up, fly Singapore.
 
Wireless.
 
Telephone access.
 
Lovely private cabin to call my own so I
can do my work and my life doesn’t get held up.
 
Air travel is finally as it should
be.
 
I’m assuming you want me to
handle Carmen?”

“That’s right.”

“And what would that involve?”

“Her death.”

“What about Jake?”

“We’ll take care of him.”

“Poor Jake.
 
Ruled
unworthy.”

“He’s a concern, but not like Carmen is.”

“Still,” Spocatti said.
 
“Just to be brushed off like that.
 
As if he doesn’t matter.
 
It’s so cold.
 
So...Russian.”

Katzev didn’t answer.
 
He knew Spocatti knew he was a Scot.
 
He knew he was messing with him and
ignored it.

“The price is twenty million,” Spocatti said.
 
“Half up front and wired to my accounts
at once.
 
Spread the money out
unevenly.
 
Once I see it deposited,
you can consider me committed to the job.”

“Twenty million?”

“That’s the price.”

“You’ve never charged me anywhere near that before.”

“That’s because you and the syndicate have never been in such
trouble before, especially against Carmen, who nearly is as good as I am.
 
It’s all unravelling, Katzev.
 
Carmen is seeing to it as we speak.”

He thought about it for a moment.
 
He thought about saying to hell with his
mother, letting them murder his family and bringing in Carmen through
Chloe.
 
But he feared he didn’t have
time.
 
He didn’t know what she was
planning next, but he knew Carmen well enough to know that she already was
planning something and it could be disastrous for him and all involved if he
didn’t act now.
 
He heard what
sounded like ice rattling against glass on the other end of the phone and new
that Spocatti was impatiently waiting.
 
“All right,” he said.
 
“But
we finish it tonight, Vincent.”

“Great.
 
That’s
actually a better fit for my schedule.”

“Are you able to contact Carmen?
 
Put her off until you arrive?
 
She’s given me a deadline of one hour to
respond to her requests, or she kills my family.
 
If it’s possible, we’ll save them.
 
If it’s not, I won’t lose sleep over
it.”

“Such a kind son,” Spocatti said.
 
“You’re willing to off your mother?”

“I’d prefer not to, but I will.”

“So professional of you, Katzev.
 
So removed.
 
I can call Carmen and put her off.
 
She trusts me implicitly, which I’ve
never understood, but she does.
 
She’s never understood that our relationship is business and only ever
will be business.
 
I’ll tell her I’m
on a plane to New York and that she should wait for me before she does anything
else.
 
I’ll tell her I’m coming to
help.
 
We’ll agree on a neutral
place for all of us to meet.
 
You’ll
bring the girl and one of your men.
 
Come armed, but bring no one else beyond the three of you.
 
That’s the agreement.
 
Carmen and I will come together, but
we’ll also bring no one else.
 
She’ll see that as a fair arrangement, since you and your guard will be
armed.
 
In exchange for Chloe, she
will promise not to harm your family.
 
Ever.
 
You give her the
girl.
 
When we start to leave, when
she thinks we’re about to go outside and that we’ll be safe, I’ll shoot them
dead.
 
Does that work for you?”