Lying and Kissing(92)

My eyes scanned the room. There was one door, half-open, leading to a bathroom and no other way out. Why had Vasiliy brought us in here? To buy time? The men outside pounded and kicked at the door. They’d be through in seconds.

Vasiliy clutched at his chest, the red stain on his shirt spreading rapidly. He nodded Luka towards the ornate, cast-iron fireplace. Luka crouched, gripped both edges of it...and hauled the entire thing away from the wall.

It hadn’t been fixed there, just rested there under its enormous weight. Behind it was an opening to the chimney...and the rungs of a ladder.

I looked at Vasiliy.

“Is not first time people try to kill me at home,” he said in English, the pain making him pant it out. He waved Yuri to the ladder and the bodyguard started to descend. Then Vasiliy himself. He touched his bloody chest by way of explanation. “If I fall, I won’t take you with me.”

I went next, followed by Luka. The rungs were iron, bolted into the wall and coated with a thick layer of dust. Far below, I could hear water.

We climbed quickly but as quietly as we could. We knew there were still gunmen waiting downstairs and, if they heard some noise from behind the walls, they’d know where we were. But there were also the men trying to break into Vasiliy’s room, above us. All they had to do was reach the fireplace and fire down into the hole—we’d be fish in a barrel.

At last, I reached the bottom and splashed down into freezing, knee-deep water. We were in a tunnel with a curving roof, scarcely big enough for me to stand up in. The men had to crouch-walk. “Is old sewer,” said Luka in my ear. “Don’t worry—not used anymore.”

We could hear voices above us—were they into Vasiliy’s room? We stumbled down the sewer towards blinding whiteness….

...and emerged into crisp daylight. The snow had stopped and we were crunching our way out of a small opening set into a muddy bank by the side of the road. The dash across the landing and the climb had taken its toll on Vasiliy. He was stumbling now, his face deathly pale.

Across the street was a car—an ancient Soviet-era thing. Yuri reached underneath and found a hidden key, then helped Vasiliy into the passenger seat.

Vasiliy read my amazed expression. “Is so that no one steals it,” he told me, nodding at the rust and peeling paintwork. “Is BMW underneath.” Then he reached out and clutched Luka’s hand. “We have to split up. Take her out of Moscow,” he said. “Out of Russia, if you can.”

Luka gripped his dad’s hand hard. “I’m not leaving you to die.”

Vasiliy looked offended by the idea. “I’m not going to,” he said. “Yuri will get me fixed up. But I’m out of the fight.” He clapped his son on the shoulder and glanced at me. “You are the Malakovs, now.”

And they sped off, the car’s engine roaring like a showroom model.

Luka pulled me in the opposite direction, towards a tram station. There was a tram just pulling in. “Don’t turn around,” he told me.

In seconds, we were mixing with the crowd. I could hear shouts behind us as the gunmen emerged from the tunnel and started to hunt for us. The tram was crowded and, for a few horrible seconds, I thought we were going to be left behind on the platform, easily visible.

But then Luka reached in and just scooped out a couple of paying passengers, quieting their protests with a glare, and the doors closed and we moved off. I had a glimpse of one of Ralavich’s men kicking the tram sign in rage and then we were speeding into the heart of Moscow.



 



We transferred to the metro and got on one of the main lines racing along deep beneath the city streets. Our plan was to go straight through Moscow and out the other side, then keep going. On board the quiet, gently rocking train, everything just...stopped.#p#分页标题#e#

I flopped down onto a seat, resting against Luka’s side. The headlong rush from the house had been sheer adrenaline. Now it was seeping away and I just felt utterly drained. The stark reality of our situation started to sink in. Vasiliy was dying, possibly dead. Olaf Ralavich, backed up by Adam’s CIA influence, was seizing control, starting with Vasiliy’s house and finishing with the Malakov’s gun business.

I looked across at Luka. In the space of a few hours, he’d been transformed from the crown prince of a criminal empire to a man on the run. And, thanks to me, he was facing enemies he’d never had before—not just a rival gang but the entire might of the state. With Adam nudging them, the government would pull out all the stops to catch the two of us. Luka was a major criminal, after all. He’d just been ignored by them for all these years because he’d paid off the right people. Now, it was open season.