And I don't care for this guy's demeanor at all. I thought if these men were on Dimitri's payroll, they'd be more likely to help put me at ease. I don’t regret pushing Dimitri to let me come, but it's a bit scarier than I thought it'd be. This jerk could at least try to help me calm down.
"So, what's the joke?" I ask to fill the silence.
He leads me silently to a metal door that's shut. It's painted in thick brushstrokes easily picked out, as if someone did it hastily and not in a professional way. And he turns over his shoulder to scowl at me as he grips the handle.
"Major General Popov's waiting inside." Rashid opens the door. "He's going to ask you some questions about the night of the murder. Just answer naturally and don't overthink it."
"Okay." I take a breath and step into the room.
The space is small with concrete walls painted an ugly beige. A metal table sits in the middle with two chairs on one side and one on the other. Major General Popov stands near the far wall wearing a nice suit and polished shoes. He's older than I expected with gray hair and sharp eyes that assess me immediately.
"Miss Sarnova." He gestures to the single chair. "Please have a seat."
I sit down, and Rashid takes one of the chairs across from me. Popov remains standing near the wall with his arms crossed. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead and make everything look washed out and institutional, and this feels more like a real interrogation than it should.
Dimitri told me these men are on his payroll. They're just here to make this look legitimate while actually protecting me. But this room makes my skin crawl anyway.
"Thank you for coming in tonight." Popov's voice is formal. "I heard you've had a hell of a time, and for that I'm sorry. I'd like to make this as painless as possible for you."
"It's fine." I tug at the vest under my shirt. The heavy material's uncomfortable and makes me sweat, but knowing it's there helps me breathe easier. The entire point of this exercise is to draw Malcom Kozlov out in the open as he comes after me. That means bullets will be flying and I will be ducking for cover. Iknow why Dimitri wants me out of here, and now I'm starting to rethink this.
"I understand you witnessed a murder outside the Gravitch casino several weeks ago." Popov eyes me like a real cop, though I'm pretty sure he actually has no intention of this being a real interview.
"Yes, I did," I say numbly. I didn't realize I was actually going to be forced to talk about the shit.
"I'm just curious about a few things before we shelve this case…" Popov narrows his eyes at me skeptically, and I get the feeling I'm gonna be put through the wringer before this is over.
"Shelve it?" I mumble. Police will just brush a murder under a rug? Dimitri really does have more power than I thought.
Popov shifts his weight and looks at me directly. "Yeah, it's all over the news but without a body, we have no physical proof that a crime was committed."
They're telling me that nobody is going to solve Yakov Volodin's murder because the Gravitches made him disappear so thoroughly, the police have nothing to work with. Which means I'm still being hunted, and this whole setup to take Malcom Kozlov down is pointless, but I'm still playing the part of the dutiful partner. I should've known better.
Rashid drums his fingers on the metal table. Something about this guy creeps me out. "The department isn't going to waste resources chasing something that might not have even happened."
I rest my elbows on the table and my head on my palms. It doesn't matter to the men hunting me that the police will dropthe trail. They'll still come. I have to remind myself of that so I don't get upset with Dimitri. He didn't do this. It isn't his fault. I can't take my anger out on him no matter how frustrating it is to know I'm being hunted for no reason.
I'm stewing in my own frustration when a loud, percussive boom vibrates through me. The explosion that tears through the building shatters my thoughts and transforms the world into chaos.
But the sound isn't like what you think it's like because you watch it on TV. It's so loud, it physically shakes the walls and the table and every cell in my body. The walls shake so violently that dust rains down from the ceiling tiles and the metal table between us vibrates with enough force that I can feel it in my bones.
The lights flicker and then die completely, plunging us into darkness for several heartbeats before emergency power floods the room with red light that makes everything look like we're trapped inside a nightmare.
Then alarms begin their piercing shriek and I cover my ears in a flash, feeling panic rush through my chest painfully fast. Rashid races toward the door with his weapon drawn before I've even processed what's happening. Popov yanks the door open, and smoke billows into the room from the hallway beyond.
"Front entrance took a direct hit," Popov barks, and he pulls his own weapon. "Looks like they used enough explosive to take out the entire fucking lobby."
The sound of gunfire erupts from somewhere deeper in the station, and it's not the scattered pops of handguns but thesustained chatter of automatic weapons being fired in controlled bursts. These fuckers aren't messing around.
People are shouting in multiple languages and I can hear boots hammering against the floors as officers rush toward whatever is happening at the front of the building.
"Get her to the back exit." Rashid darts past Popov into the smoke-filled hallway. "I'll help establish a defensive line."
Popov grabs my arm and hauls me out of the chair so hard and fast, I stumble. We rush into the hall where smoke is already making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction, and I can barely breathe. It burns my lungs, scraping my insides up like I’m breathing lava or acid, and a coughing fit attacks me as I try to find my way in the darkness.
The hallway has transformed into a war zone. Police officers pour from offices with weapons ready. The captains I saw when I first arrived are gathered near the main hall, shouting orders into their radios while trying to coordinate a response to an attack they clearly weren't prepared for, while I try to run for my life.
Why didn't anyone tell them this would happen? I know some of them will likely lose their lives, and my heart is already breaking for their families. I almost turn back but Popov is strong, dragging me away from the horrid sounds.
