“I’m not responsible for your wife’s-”
“-and your sister’s-”
“-social life.” I finished, hastily opening my door. “Oh, look. Kovalenko is making port.”
“This conversation isn’t finished!” Alastair called after me.
“Vitayu, druzhe. Yak proyshla podorozh?Greetings, my friend.How was the journey over?”
“Eh. We ran into a squall. Half my crew crossed the Atlantic vomiting over the side of the boat.” Dmytro Kovalenko laughed, gripping me in a bear hug that lifted me off my feet. I’m several inches taller than Dmytro but he was built like a bull, so that gave him the edge.
He turned to Alastair. “Alastair Taylor, my good friend!” I stifled a grin as he was also vigorously squeezed to the point where I could hear his ribs creak.
“Vitayu,Dmytro,” he wheezed, “a pleasure as always. Though we do wish you’d meet us in London so we could show you proper hospitality.”
Dmytro waved his hand, “You know your Interpol. Always making such a fuss. It seems like too much trouble when we can talk and share a pint on board.”
The Pakhan of the Kovalenko Bratva was a very hands-on sort of leader. He personally oversaw all his own arms shipments and could model for the cover ofRugged Sea Captain Monthly. The man was always clad in a heavy black sweater and cap with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He exuded cheerful goodwill, but I’d seen him - more than once - put that cigarette out in the eye of a man who’d displeased him. Subtly searching the faces of his crew, I didn’t see any eye patches, so perhaps they’d all behaved on this trip.
As our men and his loaded the cases of Makarov pistols and KSVK sniper rifles into our trucks, Dmytro invited us on board. “To friendship!” he shouted, liberally pouring shot glasses of vodka so strong that I could feel my liver groan in dismay as I drank it down.
“You must see my new toy,” he said, pulling out a monstrously large rifle. “It is an updated version of the Avtomat Kalashnikov, a gas-operated assault rifle with twice the shooting distance as the original.” He kissed the barrel, then aimed itat a tree, barely visible, on the other side of the harbor. We covered our ears just in time as he fired off a round of bullets. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left of the tree but splinters.
“Thank god you intervened,” Alastair said dryly. “That tree was coming right at us.”
Dmytro roared with laughter, petting the gunstock fondly. “I can include three cases of these modified beauties in your shipment, if you like. Try them out.”
“We would be delighted,” I said, “for the low, low price of…?”
“Triple the price of the KSVKs,” he said, grin stretching to feral proportions.
“Imagine what the price would be if we weren’t friends?” Alastair murmured.
“I would not offer them to you if we were not friends,” Dmytro said. His gaze swung to me. “You, Alec Davies, are a controversial figure.”
“Have you heard something I should know?” I asked.
He scratched the back of his neck. “There is talk. Nothing substantial, but if I hear of a direct threat, I will contact you.”
I held out my hand. “That’s greatly appreciated, my friend.”
We shook hands and his gaze moved past us to a Bentley cautiously rounding the corner of the farthest warehouse. “If you will excuse me, I have another meeting tonight. Do not be concerned, they will not leave the car.”
“Anyone we know?” Alastair asked, frowning.
The Pakhan lit another cigarette from the one still burning in his mouth, then spitting the butt out and replacing it with the new one. “Not in this… what is the word? Not in this context. Goodnight.”
“Bezpechni podorozhi,safe travels.” I said, slapping his shoulderas we turned to leave.
As we returned to the Range Rover, I watched him stride toward the Bentley. The door opened and the interior light shone off the blonde hair of a stunning woman, smiling at him coyly as he pounced on her, slamming the door shut.
“Was that…?” Alastair started laughing.
“It was,” I said, “Lady Marie, the Duke of Westminster’s daughter.”
“I’ll be damned,” he said, “no wonder he has no interest in our hospitality.”
The drive home was silent, but more companionable, like old times between us.
