“Woo, that was some strong stuff, Sasha,” Cameron said, with a slight slur in his speech. “I told you I was a lightweight.”
“What is that?” Sasha asked, pointing at Mr. B’s leg. “On your ankle. What is that?”
Just then, Cameron faked a stumble, hurling his body towards Vova. When Sasha’s bodyguard put his arms up to brace for the collision Cameron slammed the heavy glass tumbler down on his head, blood instantly pouring from the wound. Cameron then reached around Vova’s back and grabbed a pistol hidden in his waistband. I don’t know how Cameron knew it was there, but I was glad it was in his hand and not Vova’s.
* * *
Cameron
Sasha began to reach underneath the desk but Ileveled the gun at his head, convincing him to stop. I don’t know if he was going for a silent alarm trigger or a hidden weapon and I didn’t particularly want to find out.
“Put both hands flat on top of the desk or I’ll put two in you,” I said.
Vova, recovering from the shock of his traumatic head injury, growled and took a step toward me. That one step was as far as he got, as Agent Hart convincedhimto stop by putting what looked like a toy plastic gun against Vova’s temple.
“Don’t take another step,” Officer Hart ordered. “Sit down on the floor, right where you are and put your hands behind your back.” Vova did as he was told. “Now you just sit there and bleed like a good boy.”
“It’s not a real gun, Vova,” Sasha called out to his bodyguard.
Hart retorted by firing a round into what looked like a very old vase sitting on top of a bookcase.
“That was a Grueby Faience!” Sasha shouted.
“To you, maybe. To me, it was an ugly vase that I shot with my real gun.”
“What the fuck is that thing?” I asked.
“It’s a 3-D printed gun,” Hart replied.
“Printed? What do you mean? It’s made out of paper or something?”
“No. The printer uses a plastic resin to create 3-D objects. That’s how I got it through the metal detector. It’s a new cutting-edge technology.”
“Oh, cool,” I said.
“Thanks,” he replied.
“Who the fuck are you guys?” Sasha asked. “FBI, Interpol?”
“No,” Tess said, shaking her head. “Worse. We’re CIA.”
“What about him?” Sasha asked, pointing to Mr. B.
“Oh, he’s with us,” Cameron said. “He really is the Man from Brussels, only he works for us now.”
Tess turned to Darwood. “You know, I still don’t know why they call you the Man from Brussels.”
“Oh, dat old story,” he replied. “You see, in Cleveland they got these big ol’—”
“What the fuck do you people want from me?” Sasha shouted.
“What we want is your pipeline to Nazi plunder,” Tess said.
“And I told you it doesn’t exist,” Sasha said. “The old man won’t deal with those people. I’m telling you the truth.”
“Here,” I said, handing Vova’s gun to Hart. “Keep them covered. I need to have a private conversation with my partner.”
I led Tess to the opposite end of the room.
