“I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but blackmail for what? What leverage would this woman have had over my father?”
“Your father told Nicki he was sorry. Your father did something regrettable, and he knew it would upset Nicki, and you and Melanie as well.”
Beth rested her head on the wheel, and shut her eyes.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
Traffic started to move, and they crossed the bridge. Soon, her headlights caught a sign that said COLLEGE PARK, and Beth turned down a street into a heavily forested area with houses far back off the road. After a long search, they found the address on a rusted mailbox, the house invisible from the street. Heavy metal music blared from behind the trees.
“Sounds like they’re having a party,” he said.
Beth blocked the driveway with her rental, and they got out. He removed a handgun from his pants pocket, slipped it behind his belt, and covered it with his shirt, which he wore untucked. They headed up the gravel driveway.
“Did you hear that?” he said under his breath.
“Hear what?” she whispered.
“Sounded like a woman crying.”
“Your ears are better than mine.”
There were certain sounds that if you heard once, you never forgot. He drew his handgun and held it loosely at his side, like a gunslinger. Beth removed her gun from her purse and clasped it with both hands, the way she’d been taught at the academy.
As they passed a hedge, the house came into view. It had two stories and stained shingles, and a wraparound front porch with a pair of identical rockers. It wasn’t new, but it was well maintained, and it looked expensive. Katya had done well for herself.
The music was loud enough to wake the dead, and was pouring out of a curtained side window, which was cracked open. He had never understood the attraction to heavy metal, which was as soothing as listening to a jet take off.
He climbed the stairs to the front porch, making no sound. He was in warrior mode, his military training taking over. Beside the front door was another curtained window. He approached it cautiously, and brought his face up to the glass. Through a part in the curtain he peered into a living room filled with nice furniture and wall art.
“Shit,” he said under his breath.
“She in there?” Beth whispered back.
“I think so. And so are the two Russkies.”
The Sokolovs stood in the living room, stripped down to their waists. They were freakishly muscular and covered in hideous body art. Bogdan, the older and taller, wielded a large hammer, while Egor held a power drill. They were taking turns threatening a young woman, who sat in a stiff-backed wood chair in the room’s center. A piece of duct tape hung off the side of her cheek, and he guessed one of them had ripped it away while trying to get a point across. Those were the cries that he’d heard from the driveway.
“It’s Katya,” he whispered.
“You sure?”
“Uh-huh. I think they’re going to kill her.”
He stepped aside, and let Beth have a look for herself. There was a difference between simply threatening, and threatening to kill. Katya wasn’t playing along, and it didn’t appear that she was going to budge. The Sokolovs’ anger would turn to rage, and they would end her life.
“I’m going in. Which one do you want?” he asked.
“Bogdan, the big one,” Beth said.
“He’s yours. Aim at him through the window. I’ll kick down the door and go in. If they don’t obey my orders, start shooting.”
Katya let out a scream. Lancaster took another look through the window. Egor had put the electric drill into her ear, and given it a little juice.
“Hurry,” Beth said.
He went to the front door, and lifted his leg. Beth went into a crouch and aimed through the window. He kicked, and the door splintered at the frame and fell into the room. He rushed in.
“Drop your weapons and step away from the girl,” he said.
Bogdan tossed his hammer to the floor and raised his arms into the air. Egor snarled and threw the power drill at Lancaster’s head, forcing him to duck. It was a clever ploy. Lancaster wasn’t going to shoot an unarmed man, and it gave Bogdan enough time to grab a shotgun off the fireplace mantel and get off a round. The blast did not miss by much, and Lancaster dove to the floor and returned their fire.
Beth also began shooting. The window blew apart, with shards of glass flying around him. It was distracting, but he kept shooting anyway. The Sokolovs weren’t going to win any medals for bravery, and they retreated into the back of the house. Egor’s torso was soaked with his own blood, and he wasn’t moving very fast.
Lancaster got to his feet and dusted himself off. Chasing them was an option, except he was nearly out of bullets. From the backyard, he heard a motorbike’s engine kick in.
He went to a window, and looked into the darkened backyard. The house backed up onto a wooded area, and he listened as the brothers escaped down a dirt path on a very loud motorcycle.
“All clear,” he called out.
Beth came inside, and edged up beside him.
“You up for chasing them?” she asked.
“No thanks. That was an AA-12 assault shotgun. We’re outgunned.”
“Then why did they run?”
“I shot the little one in the stomach. If he doesn’t get help, he’ll bleed out.”
They checked out Katya, who hadn’t uttered a word. Her ear had a little blood, but otherwise she appeared unharmed. The look on her face said she was surprised to be alive, and she stood up and stretched her legs.
Beth flashed her badge. “I’m Special Agent Daniels with the FBI, and this is private investigator Jon Lancaster. What is your name?”
“Katya Pavlov,” she said, her accent barely noticeable.
“Would you like us to take you to a hospital?”
She touched her ear. “I am not badly hurt. No hospital.”
“We’d like to ask you some questions. Please sit down.”
Katya obediently returned to her chair. Lancaster and Beth sat directly across from her on the couch.
“Who were those two men?” Beth asked.
“I’ve never seen them before.”
“Please don’t lie to us. It will only lead to trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Jail.”
Katya’s eyes grew wide. She’d just had a power drill stuck in her ear, yet seemed more concerned about being thrown in the slammer.
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“Same question. Who were they?”
“Their names are Bogdan and Egor Sokolov. They are my friends.”
“Really. Why were they torturing you?”
She smiled thinly. “They were not happy with me.”
“That much was obvious. What made them do this?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’ve got all the time in the world.”
A mournful cry interrupted their conversation. A skinny black cat crawled out from beneath the couch they were sitting on, and began to wail. Katya scooped the kitty up, and began to pet it.
“I will explain everything, but first may I have something to drink?” she asked. “My throat is very dry.”
Beth glanced at him. The key to an interrogation was to keep the person being interviewed happy, within reason. Lancaster said, “What can I get you?”
“A bottled water from the refrigerator in the kitchen. And a glass.”
“Coming right up.”
Lancaster left the room.
Daniels felt her radar go up. Something wasn’t right, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was. Katya continued to console the cat. She was strikingly beautiful, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine her father having a fling with her.