were dead, he had seen their blood floating up to the surface, there was no way a human could have survived. When he was finished Roman was out of breath and tears were starting to form in his eyes.
Shirokov laughed and stubbed out the last of his cigar in the ash tray. He rose from his seat and embraced Roman, kissing him on either cheek. The stubble felt almost as coarse as sandpaper.
“ Oof! Your beard Roman. You must find a shave. Relax. You must relax. Are you a reading man?”
Perplexed by the question, Roman swallowed and answered that he was not. Shirokov picked up Europe Central from the table and showed it to him.
“ Ack. You should read more. This is a great book. I was just telling Vitaly about it…”
The enormous bulk of the bodyguard was wedged between the three men and the door. Inside the tight little office the air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and sweat.
“…you must relax Roman. We will find them, this man and the police woman. We will. And if they are still alive, that is easily remedied. It is only a question of time and manpower. After all, there are always more Russians. Isn’t that right, Vitaly?”
Shirokov nodded to Vitaly, who drew a .22 from somewhere within his folds of fat, pointed it at Roman’s temple and pulled the trigger. Splattered with blood, Shirokov addressed one of the other two men, whose body quivered visibly.
“ Find them.”
Chapter Four
Jordan Ross held on to Detective Leslie Bollier’s hand throughout the whole ordeal. As the Taurus sank and flooded with the freezing water of the East River, Jordan pushed his door open and pulled Bollier out of the vehicle, then kicked his legs, swimming for the cover of a nearby pier as if his life depended on it. (It did.)
They surfaced together, gasping for air just as a clatter of heavy caliber gunfire erupted, heads bobbing like buoys just beneath the pier. Without the cover of the gunshots the Russians would have almost certainly heard them break the surface and suck in oxygen fast and desperately. Bollier was trying to keep afloat while holding one hand to the gash on her cheek, which was bleeding in serious earnest now. Jordan kept one arm wrapped around her waist and held them up by grabbing hold of a rusted spike dangling under the pier. The detective was losing so much blood Jordan began to worry that the temperature of the water could put her into hypothermic shock. As she shook uncontrollably in the water, he whispered for her to keep quiet.
“I need you to hang on Detective. If we come up now they’ll see us. Just hang on a little while lon ger for me. Ok? Can you do that?”
Somehow Bollier managed to nod her head through all the full body shaking. Finally when they heard the sound of police sirens, Jordan caught his breath for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He swam out from under the pier and helped sling Bollier onto the dock, then he climbed up himself and started waving his arms.
“Over here! Hey!”
A pair of NYPD officers had just emerged from their squad car. Two more cruisers were in pursuit of the Russians’ SUVs. They ran over to Jordan, feet pounding on the docks and bouncing the wood with each stride.
“What happened?”
“They were shooting at us and our car got thrown into the river. She’s one of yours.”
The officer on the right bent over Bollier and shined a flashlight into her eyes. His partner dug into the detective’s pocket and found her official badge.
“She doesn’t look good. She’s got to get dry right away. Come hop in the back with her and we’ll take you over to the 84 th precinct.”
The officer who drove them was no match for Bollier at the wheel, but he at least showed enough urgency to blow right through several stop signs and red lights. Jordan averted his eyes while the detective shed her clothes and wrapped herself in a heavy blanket the Brooklyn beat cops kept in the back of their squad car. When she was covered up again Jordan
Shirokov laughed and stubbed out the last of his cigar in the ash tray. He rose from his seat and embraced Roman, kissing him on either cheek. The stubble felt almost as coarse as sandpaper.
“ Oof! Your beard Roman. You must find a shave. Relax. You must relax. Are you a reading man?”
Perplexed by the question, Roman swallowed and answered that he was not. Shirokov picked up Europe Central from the table and showed it to him.
“ Ack. You should read more. This is a great book. I was just telling Vitaly about it…”
The enormous bulk of the bodyguard was wedged between the three men and the door. Inside the tight little office the air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and sweat.
“…you must relax Roman. We will find them, this man and the police woman. We will. And if they are still alive, that is easily remedied. It is only a question of time and manpower. After all, there are always more Russians. Isn’t that right, Vitaly?”
Shirokov nodded to Vitaly, who drew a .22 from somewhere within his folds of fat, pointed it at Roman’s temple and pulled the trigger. Splattered with blood, Shirokov addressed one of the other two men, whose body quivered visibly.
“ Find them.”
Chapter Four
Jordan Ross held on to Detective Leslie Bollier’s hand throughout the whole ordeal. As the Taurus sank and flooded with the freezing water of the East River, Jordan pushed his door open and pulled Bollier out of the vehicle, then kicked his legs, swimming for the cover of a nearby pier as if his life depended on it. (It did.)
They surfaced together, gasping for air just as a clatter of heavy caliber gunfire erupted, heads bobbing like buoys just beneath the pier. Without the cover of the gunshots the Russians would have almost certainly heard them break the surface and suck in oxygen fast and desperately. Bollier was trying to keep afloat while holding one hand to the gash on her cheek, which was bleeding in serious earnest now. Jordan kept one arm wrapped around her waist and held them up by grabbing hold of a rusted spike dangling under the pier. The detective was losing so much blood Jordan began to worry that the temperature of the water could put her into hypothermic shock. As she shook uncontrollably in the water, he whispered for her to keep quiet.
“I need you to hang on Detective. If we come up now they’ll see us. Just hang on a little while lon ger for me. Ok? Can you do that?”
Somehow Bollier managed to nod her head through all the full body shaking. Finally when they heard the sound of police sirens, Jordan caught his breath for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He swam out from under the pier and helped sling Bollier onto the dock, then he climbed up himself and started waving his arms.
“Over here! Hey!”
A pair of NYPD officers had just emerged from their squad car. Two more cruisers were in pursuit of the Russians’ SUVs. They ran over to Jordan, feet pounding on the docks and bouncing the wood with each stride.
“What happened?”
“They were shooting at us and our car got thrown into the river. She’s one of yours.”
The officer on the right bent over Bollier and shined a flashlight into her eyes. His partner dug into the detective’s pocket and found her official badge.
“She doesn’t look good. She’s got to get dry right away. Come hop in the back with her and we’ll take you over to the 84 th precinct.”
The officer who drove them was no match for Bollier at the wheel, but he at least showed enough urgency to blow right through several stop signs and red lights. Jordan averted his eyes while the detective shed her clothes and wrapped herself in a heavy blanket the Brooklyn beat cops kept in the back of their squad car. When she was covered up again Jordan
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