“Okay, sure,” the man said, his tone bordering playful.
Millar knew The Shop would be monitoring Maria Soller’s cell phone — probably his as well — so he didn’t have much doubt that their analysts would discover what he was doing. Maybe they would even figure out a way to save him once he got the girls out of there.
Chapter 149
She was trying to come to terms with everything that had happened over the past two nights. Victoria Eden’s emotions had been on a roller-coaster ride, and she was left with a sadness that she hadn’t felt for quite some time. Her fierce independence had been predetermined from the moment her mother died, and now more than ever it left her feeling alone, wondering if she would ever find someone to share her life with.
That was the crux of her immediate problem. A man she knew only as Trent had managed to connect with her in a way she’d never before experienced. The feelings she knew they both felt were as powerful as they were brief. Now he was gone. Forever.
She thought of the missed connections ads she and her friends used to read for entertainment in the City Paper as teenagers. The people who placed the ads were almost always crazed and delusional, but every once in a while they would find the genuine sadness and desperation of a love lost. If she were to place an ad, she wondered whether she would come off as one of the crazies, or was this really a love lost? It didn’t matter; that wouldn’t be an option. Nothing could bring him back. Whoever he was — Tony, Trent — he was now a ghost who would haunt her memory; he was now a what-if punctuated with a regretful question mark.
A part of her realized that she should be thankful for making it out of that place alive, but to what end? Life had dished out its share of cruelty to Victoria Eden. There was enough troubled history for her to consider whether or not she somehow deserved what she got. She wondered if it was karma as she reflected on a path littered with broken hearts she’d left behind. Most of those hearts belonged to good people, some even amazing, but none able to make that magical connection Trent had sparked off with a simple smile and alluring eyes. Maybe she was crazy.
The cab ride home from Dulles Airport was a solemn one. Her house was empty, although hanging in the back of her mind was the possibility of unwanted company. Pavel Kozlov knew everything there was to know about her, she was sure of it, and the scariest part was that she didn’t care. She would be damned if that bastard would take her alive again. This time she would fight from the onset, and it would feel good. She would deliver some kind of payback. She realized her state of mind had been altered, and the jury was still out on whether that was a good thing.
She had changed into her blue Under Armour running clothes and pulled her hair back into a ponytail by the time she decided there was something else she needed to do. This would make the third time she had cycled through her things, and she still couldn’t find it. Purse, carry-on, violin case, pockets. Repeat. She let out an exasperated sigh.
“Shit,” she said. “Nice job, Vic. At least you know the first three digits, two-oh-two…uhhhhh!”
It had been years since she had actually memorized a phone number. She walked over to her landline and pressed the redial button, but the memory held some random number she wasn’t familiar with. She never really used a landline anyway, and she wasn’t even sure why she kept it. Eden was tempted to drive to her godfather’s place in Georgetown unannounced, but she wasn’t convinced it was a good idea to have this conversation in person. Then it hit her, and she walked over to her computer.
“Maybe I’m just tired,” she said to the empty house. “Maybe I should get a cat.”
She began to pull up an online phone book to look up Nevin Perlman’s number when she thought of something. A smile transformed her mood. Within seconds she had the website pulled up and was logging in to her account. When she saw how close her iPhone was to her and where she’d left it, a chill shot down her spine. It wouldn’t take long to get there. She stared at the screen and contemplated what she should do, and in that moment she realized something. Victoria D’Angelo realized she wasn’t going to suffer the same fate as her mother. Time was the key — it just took time for things to get better — and you needed to respect yourself enough to take that time. Fear diminished with time. Everything changed with time.
She had sent the address that was displayed on her screen to the printer when a loud clatter broke the silence. She stood up slowly from the chair, and her heart began to race. She grabbed the piece of paper and crept to the front of the house, where the sound had originated from. There were several windows, and she chose the one with the blinds drawn from which to make her observation. She slowly began to lift a single slat up and jumped when she heard the noise again. This time it was louder.
Fear crept into her eyes as she carefully lifted the blind high enough to peer through. When she saw a deer rummaging through her trash, she breathed a sigh of relief. She noticed she had crumpled the piece of paper with the address and laughed. She now regretted her decision to ignore the advice she was given about the Russian. Another loud crack sounded, and she decided she needed to get the hell out of there.
“Screw it,” she said, feeling empowered once again. “You only live once.”
Chapter 150
Pavel Kozlov stared at the bank of monitors in front of him. He had a grimace on his face from the pain in his leg, but aside from the injury, things had been looking up for the Russian. He was about to take care of the hacker who had thus far managed to elude his men. They just needed to buy a little more time and it would all be over.
His men couldn’t simply put a bullet in his head. First they needed to find out what Francis Millar knew and what he might have done. But with him under their control, the biggest threat to their operation would be neutralized. The pain in Kozlov’s leg had been tempered by the fact that he had gotten the upper hand on The American this time. Too many of his communist brethren had died at his hands, and as he reflected on the accomplishment his lips nearly morphed into a smile.
“What did he say?” Kozlov asked.
Bruce Campbell shrugged his shoulders. “He wants us out front with the girls. He’s taking a cab.”
The Bratva leader didn’t like the situation but knew they didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’ll give him hope that this will work out until we’ve got him where we want him,” Campbell said. “We’ll keep the guns put away so he doesn’t get skittish.” He knew the look he saw in his boss’s eyes all too well. “Don’t worry. I won’t fuck this up. We don’t want to spook him and have to chase him down again. A couple of your former Spetsnaz boys will be here with the girls directly.”
Kozlov felt a little more at ease knowing the best the motherland had to offer would be involved.
“We just need a little more time and it will be too late,” the Russian said. “Nobody will be able to stop the attack once it’s in motion. There’s no room for mistakes this time around.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Enter,” Kozlov said.
The door opened to show the three prisoners in the hallway guarded by two of his men.
“We just needed the two younger girls,” Campbell scoffed.
The Russians gave him a confused look. These men were old school, fresh from Russia, so their English was limited.
Campbell waved his arm dismissively and said, “Never mind. Let’s get this over with.”