I nodded, glad to have something practical to do.
We said goodbye to Bronwyn’s friends, gave Baba a ride back to her apartment, and then headed back to the mansion. By now, it was late afternoon. We were met at the door by all of Mikhail’s dogs, who’d picked up on all the panic when we left. They butted up against us, sniffing and demanding answers.Where red-haired one? Why she no with you?!We ruffled their coats, scratched their ears, and tried to reassure them.
Upstairs, I found the guest room Radimir and Bronwyn were using and grabbed the medication from Bronwyn’s purse, putting it into mine before I forgot. Gennadiy followed me in and put his arms around me from behind. Alone together for the first time in hours, Ifinally said what I’d been thinking all afternoon. “I don’t know if we can beat this guy.”
Gennadiy pulled me back against him. “We will,” he said firmly. “You’re going to find him. And then I’m going to break his neck for what he did to Bronwyn.”
I slowly nodded and felt another bit of FBI Agent-me slip away.
“Come on,” said Gennadiy. “Take a moment. Eat something. My chef makes this onion soup?—”
A shout in Russian from downstairs, from one of Gennadiy’s men. We ran to the stairs and looked down. The whole mansion was lit up red and blue from flashing lights outside. Then a voice, amplified through a loudhailer. “This is the Chicago Police Department! We have the place surrounded. Come out slowly and with your hands in the air!”
60
ALISON
We raceddownstairs and found Mikhail and Valentin looking as shocked as we felt. “What thefuckis going on?” asked Gennadiy. He parted a window blind with his fingers and peeked through. “Chyort, that’s not good,” he muttered. “Cliburn is out there.” He looked at Mikhail. “Don’t we have anunderstandingwith the District Attorney?”
Mikhail nodded somberly. “Cliburn happily takes his money every month.” He sighed. “It would seem that Grushin has made him a better offer. Or he’s another of Grushin’s clients.”
I cursed under my breath. I wasn’t sure if I was an FBI agent, mad at how the justice system I’d always believed in had been corrupted, or an honorary Aristov, mad at how one of those corrupt players had double-crossed us. Maybe both?
At that moment, my phone rang. “What the hell is going on?” yelled Calahan in my ear. “I just heard Chicago PD are raiding Gennadiy’s mansion!”
“I’m aware,” I said tightly.
“Please tell me you’re not in there,” begged Calahan.
A long, guilty silence.
Calahan blew his breath out. “What do you need?”
I loved him for wanting to help, but… “There’s nothing you can do,” I told him. “FBI New York doesn’t have any jurisdiction here. You could lose your badge, Sam. Stay out of this.” And I ended the call.
“You have three minutes!” yelled the cop on the loudhailer. I felt my stomach drop.Jesus, this is really happening. We’re going to be arrested.
Gennadiy looked around at the mansion and cursed under his breath. “We’d better go.”
He walked off down the hallway. Mikhail and Valentin followed him, but I just stood there. “Go? Gowhere?Out the back way? We’re surrounded!”
Gennadiy looked over his shoulder at me. “You think we don’t plan for the day the police come to our door?”
Frowning, I followed him. He led us into the kitchen, where his chef already had the door to the pantry open. Gennadiy thumbed a button on the underside of a shelf, and a section of the tiled floor dropped away, revealing a set of stone stairs. I stared, open-mouthed. I’d hidden in that pantry and had no idea what was right under my feet.
Avgust, Gennadiy’s head of security, ran up to us. “We’ll stall them for as long as possible.”
Gennadiy squeezed his shoulders. “No shooting. Go quietly. Say nothing. Conrad will get you out.” They embraced. Then Gennadiy was hustling me down the stairs. Mikhail gave a short, quick order in Russian, and his dogs shot into the room and followed his pointing finger down the stairs in one long train of gray fur. Mikhail followed them, then Valentin, and Gennadiy brought up the rear, closing the trapdoor behind him.
The stairs led down to a tunnel: not some dirt-walled, prison-escape thing but a concrete-lined passage big enough to stand up in; there were evenlights.There was also a rack at the bottom of the stairs with five black holdalls, each one with a paper luggage tag. Gennadiy grabbedV, MandG.I stared at him, amazed.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make a bag for you yet. Take Bronwyn’s.” And he threw me theBbag.
The tunnel ran for about a hundred yards and ended in a metal spiral staircase. Valentin went up first and gingerly lifted the manhole cover at the top, gun drawn...then climbed out and waved us up. When I emerged, I saw we were on a footpath in a small park, down the street from the mansion and hidden from it by thick foliage. When everyone was up, Gennadiy led us down the footpath to the street, where a blue minivan was parked. He felt under the rear bumper and pulled out a key, and we all piled in. As we pulled away, I heard the distant bang of the police breaking down the mansion’s door. “Pretty slick,” I admitted.
“I had to allow for the possibility that one day, you might actually catch me,” Gennadiy told me. He looked at the dog on my lap. “Sorry, it’s a little cramped.”
I cuddled the dog close and ruffled its fur. It turned and licked my neck. “I consider it a definite plus,” I said seriously.
