Danil Petrenko was as angry as he was scared. It enraged him that someone would dare try to take him out in the middle of his own city, and it terrified him that they had very nearly succeeded. As a precaution Petrenko clutched a. 50 calibre Desert Eagle as he paced about his apartment, barking orders or just venting his frustration and anxiety. His lieutenants had called every man under his control and had them rush to his residence to provide protection. If whoever had attacked before tried again, they’d have a small army to get through.
He had men outside the building, in the lobby, and guarding the elevators and his front door. Six of Petrenko’s biggest, meanest gangsters were with him in the apartment itself. All were armed. Every window was locked closed, all blinds or drapes shut, every light was switched on and candles had been set and lit in every room in case the power was cut like last time. Like Petrenko himself, his men were on edge, aware that mere hours before three of their own had been killed in a merciless assault.
Aside from his men now acting as guards, there were more out on the streets banging on doors and snapping fingers, all trying to find out who was behind the attack and why. Every other criminal he knew or cop he paid off was doing their part, some out of fear, others because they were scared of losing income if Petrenko was killed. Motives were irrelevant to Petrenko. All he cared about were results.
The Lebanese bastard hadn’t been behind it. That was pretty obvious to Petrenko. He had seen the look in Yamout’s eyes as they had climbed through the bathroom window and on to the precarious ledge. No one could fake that kind of terror.
It had been about three hours since he’d fled the Europe with his only surviving man. His apartment was the penthouse of a ten-storey block in one of Minsk’s most expensive and desirable neighbourhoods. He lived with his glamour-model girlfriend, who had locked herself in the guest bedroom to keep out of the way of Petrenko and his men.
One of his men came out of another room. He had a shotgun in one hand and a cell phone in the other, held with the speaker against his chest.
‘I’ve just had a call from downstairs,’ the man said. ‘He’s here.’
‘Okay,’ Petrenko said, nodding. ‘Send him up. But make sure him and his men have no weapons. And don’t take your eyes off them for a second. Got it? Not for a second.’
While his man gave the go-ahead to the guards in the lobby, Petrenko splashed some water on his face, swiped his sweaty hair back from his forehead, had another fat line of Bolivia’s finest. He wiped the white residue from his nostrils, took a deep breath and waited in the lounge for his guest’s arrival.
A minute later, there was a knock on the door and Petrenko heard his men taking guns and ushering the guest through to where he sat. He stood up the moment Tomasz Burliuk entered. The tall, handsome, immaculately groomed Ukrainian, Vladimir Kasakov’s closest advisor, was followed by two bodyguards.
‘Danil,’ Burliuk began and took out his asthma inhaler. ‘What’s with the lack of manners?’
‘I’m sorry, Tomasz, but I can’t be too careful. You don’t know what it’s been like for me. I almost died tonight. I almost died.’
Burliuk put the inhaler to his lips and breathed in as he depressed the mechanism. ‘Tell me what happened.’
Petrenko flopped back on to a chair. He shrugged and gestured as he assembled his thoughts. ‘We were just beginning negotiations when all the damn lights went out. I thought it was nothing. A fuse maybe. But no more than thirty seconds later my men started dying. Damn it, Tomasz, someone tried to kill me. In my own city. I had to climb through a window just to get away. Look — ’ he gestured to his wrists, which were lightly scabbed where the broken glass had grazed him ‘- I almost killed myself in the process.’
Burliuk slipped the inhaler back into a pocket and took a seat in an armchair opposite Petrenko. ‘What about Yamout?’
‘What about him?’
Burliuk stroked his beard. ‘Did he escape as well?’
‘He got away. None of his bodyguards did. He brought six men with him. Can you believe that? At the time I was enraged by such disrespect, but now I should thank him. Maybe if he hadn’t brought so much muscle, I wouldn’t be here.’
‘Where is Yamout now?’
Petrenko scoffed. ‘How would I know, and why would I care? The second we left the elevator we went our separate ways. We didn’t hang around to discuss travel arrangements. He’s probably back in the desert by now.’
‘Was he injured?’
Petrenko frowned. ‘Who gives a fuck? For all I know, it’s his fault I nearly died… Wait a second. Maybe they weren’t after me, but Yamout.’
‘You can’t know that for sure,’ Burliuk said. ‘You have enemies, don’t you?’
Petrenko nodded, but his thoughts were becoming clearer. He sat forward and said, ‘I have more enemies than God. Every criminal in this city wants my blood. But they are all rightly afraid of Danil Petrenko and what I can do to them and their families.’ He stabbed himself in the chest with a thumb. ‘I am the king of Minsk. Any attack against my throne is akin to treason. And anyone crazy enough to attempt to usurp me would at least have the sanity to strike when I’m at my most vulnerable, not when I’m surrounded by guards and with Yamout and all his men present.’
‘If you say so, King Danil.’ Burliuk gave a little bow of his head.
‘I’m glad you agree, Tomasz, because I hold you responsible.’
‘What?’
‘You brokered the introduction between Yamout and myself. I would never have dealt with the man had you not first vouched for him.’
Burliuk said nothing.
Petrenko said, ‘I’m glad I sent for you, because now you need to make amends.’
Burliuk laughed briefly. ‘You don’t send for me, little king. You request my presence, and by my grace I decide whether to grant you that favour.’
Anger reddened Petrenko’s face. He stepped towards Burliuk, the cocaine in his blood making him feel powerful over these unarmed foreigners.
Burliuk’s bodyguards immediately came to life, blocking his way. Petrenko smirked at them and brandished his Desert Eagle. If he wanted to, he could execute the two impudent weaponless thugs at any moment he In the time it took to blink, one of the bodyguards drew a pistol and pushed the muzzle against Petrenko’s cheek.
‘You need to educate your thugs on how to properly frisk a man,’ Burliuk said emotionlessly.
Petrenko gulped and dropped his gun. None of his own men were close enough to see what was happening.
Burliuk whispered to his bodyguards and they backed off.
He said, ‘There is no need for such unpleasantness, Danil. Let us resolve this amicably.’
Petrenko nodded. ‘Fine.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I want whoever came after me dead.’
‘Why, when the target was Yamout, not you?’
Petrenko scoffed. ‘The target is irrelevant. What matters is they attacked me, in my suite, in my city, and killed my men. I’ve told you that there are many who would like nothing more than to see my kingdom topple. I am stronger than any one rival, but not strong enough to fight them all. And now, after this humiliation, they’ll believe me weak. I need to show my strength and I need to show it fast. You can help me do so.’
‘Danil, I don’t think-’
‘Don’t you dare say no to me, Tomasz. I’ve been a good friend to you and Kasakov. How many shipments have passed through my land safely and without incident? I came across these guns myself and I offered them to Kasakov first, out of courtesy, but you weren’t interested. So I line up my own buyers, but then you come along and ask me to deal with Yamout instead, as a favour to you, and one which I am willing to do as a mark of respect. You don’t tell me why and I don’t ask, I just do. But that was before I had good men murdered because of that favour. And now I ask myself, why were you so keen to have me sell those guns to Yamout? You’ll be happy to know that I haven’t yet worked out the answer, but I’m sure whatever arrangement you had with Yamout was outside Kasakov’s knowledge. I wonder what he would say if I told him his right-hand man was up to something behind his back.’
Burliuk didn’t answer for a long moment. Then he said, ‘You would forfeit your life so needlessly?’
‘I don’t think you are in a position to threaten me.’
‘You misunderstand me. I’m merely pointing out that if you bring this news to Kasakov he will kill you as surely as he will kill me.’
‘Nice try. But I’m a little harder to trick than that. Kasakov does not compete with Yamout, I know that much. He won’t give a shit that I have dealt with him. He’ll care that you have, though.’
Burliuk laughed. ‘Then you are a fool. Kasakov would visit horrors upon you that are indescribable. My arrangement with Yamout is without Kasakov’s knowledge, you are correct about that. Yamout did me a favour, and in return I introduced him to you. This wasn’t a problem until recently. But now, Kasakov has discovered Yamout’s organisation is responsible for the death of his beloved nephew and he wants revenge. If he learns I have dealt with his sworn enemy I will suffer the same fate. As will you.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
Burliuk took out his cell phone. ‘Then call Vladimir now and roll the dice with your life.’
Petrenko thought for a minute and waved his hands. He said, ‘Okay, you win, Tomasz. Put your damn phone away. Well played, as always. I do hope for your sake you can play Yamout as well.’
‘I have no need to play him. Yamout does not know who I am and Kasakov will have him killed soon enough.’
‘I’m delighted that you have nothing to worry about,’ Petrenko sneered. ‘So let’s turn our attentions back to my concerns. I still have my rivals to consider. I need to show there is a price to be paid for striking against me.’
‘Then tell me, what have you learned so far about your attackers?’
Petrenko shrugged. ‘Nothing as yet.’
‘This happened over three hours ago.’
Petrenko shrugged again. ‘My people are doing everything they can. Every thug in this city is being smacked around to see what he knows.’
‘So you know who you are looking for?’
‘No, but…’
‘Did you see any of the gunmen?’
‘No.’
Burliuk paced the room. ‘Did you hear anything? Anything at all? Voices, maybe?’
‘No,’ Petrenko said again.
‘Did anything happen before Yamout arrived?’
‘Before? Why?’
‘Because they didn’t just turn up and start shooting. They must have staked out the hotel first. They were there before Yamout arrived, maybe even before you arrived. They must have been watching for him. Did you see anyone?’
Petrenko shook his head. ‘No.’
‘And your man who escaped?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then find out.’
Petrenko shouted for his man, who entered the room. He looked nervous.
‘Today,’ Burliuk said immediately, ‘did you see anyone who didn’t fit in at the hotel. Foreigners, perhaps. They might have dressed differently. Did anyone seem to be watching you, however casual that watching might have been? Perhaps someone looked at you for more than a second…’
The man shook his head. ‘I didn’t see anyone suspicious or foreign. The only person I even remember seeing at all was from the hotel management.’
‘When was that?’ Burliuk asked.
Petrenko added, ‘Yeah, when?’
‘While you were out for food. Just a few minutes after you had gone.’
Burliuk said, ‘What did he want?’
‘I don’t really know. He just checked the suite.’
‘What was his name?’ Petrenko asked. ‘The management know not to interfere with my dealings there.’
‘He didn’t give it.’
‘Describe him,’ Burliuk said.
‘He was my height, but skinnier. Same sort of age. Short dark hair.’
Petrenko’s eyes narrowed. ‘You idiot. No one who works at the hotel looks like that. He was one of them. I should have your eyes for this.’
‘Tell me you got a good look at him,’ Burliuk said quietly.
‘Yes,’ Petrenko’s man was quick to assure.
‘Good,’ Petrenko said, pointing. ‘You just saved your life.’
Burliuk said, ‘Picture him in your head. Think of the shape of his nose, the colour of his eyes, how far apart they were. Everything, every little detail.’ He turned to Petrenko. ‘You have cops on your payroll?’
‘Of course.’
‘Call them and get a sketch artist over here immediately. When the picture is ready, every one of your men needs a copy. Have them check hotels and guesthouses, ask every receptionist and maid if they have seen him. Put people in the airport and train stations. Speak to taxi drivers, bartenders, everyone. Spread money around, offer a reward for information. Give the picture to men you can trust. Saturate the city. Someone will have seen him, or will see him. With luck, he and his friends are still here. If not, there will be a trail to follow to those who sent them.’
Petrenko was quiet for a moment while he decided how best to make his point. ‘But what if we do find them?’ he asked eventually. ‘What then? Last time they wiped out both mine and Yamout’s bodyguards in seconds. They are ruthless killers. My men are thieves and thugs. They are not soldiers.’
Burliuk waved a hand dismissively. ‘I will help you on this matter, and in return you will forget the part I played in your deal with Yamout. Agreed?’ Petrenko nodded. ‘I’ll make a call and bring in some professionals. They will handle it. All you have to do is find him.’