He took a pad of paper and wrote down the names of the remaining four men who ran AEON.
Mitchell
Halifax
Gutenberg
Dass
The logistics of these things could become complicated, but Vysotsky believed in keeping it simple. The best way was to get close to the target, one on one. It was an effective tactic and required only careful planning by the agent. A prick with the tip of a poisoned umbrella as the target walked by. A tasteless drug slipped into a cocktail. A quick, silenced bullet to the back of the head. A slim stiletto between the ribs. The garrotte. Alexei had personal experience with all of them.
He thought about Valentina. She'd done well in France, first by compromising Gutenberg's computer and then eliminating the French Foreign Minister. He decided she would be the best choice to go after the American senator. Senator Mitchell had a reputation as a philanderer, though his adoring constituents knew nothing of his liaisons. It should be easy for Valentina to catch his eye. The rest would follow as night followed day.
He wrote her name next to Mitchell's.
With Mitchell disposed of in his thinking, Vysotsky turned his attention to Halifax, the British Chancellor of the Exchequer. After the Prime Minister, Halifax was the most important government official in England. He had strong security around him at all times. He would not be a simple target, but Vysotsky knew that a determined assassin could not be stopped.
Halifax was a public man and his death would create a storm of suspicion. The deaths of several prominent billionaires within days of one another meant there was a risk someone could make a connection between them. The deaths formed a pattern. Patterns meant vulnerability.
Alexei made a note to wait on Halifax.
That left Gutenberg and the Indian, Dass. The two men lived in virtual fortresses but both commuted, Gutenberg to his bank in Geneva and Dass to his factories in Mumbai. It would be possible for a team to get them as they traveled to work.
Mumbai was one of the most crowded cities in the world, filled with impossible traffic, confusion and countless opportunities for an ambush. Geneva was a city with excellent police, surveillance everywhere and little in the way of significant cover.
It wasn't a difficult choice. Vysotsky decided to delay going after Gutenberg.
Dass would be the next target. An operation out on the open road required a different kind of approach, using a team with a skilled driver and at least one shooter. There were several in Zaslon who were ruthless and efficient enough to organize and lead the operation.
Alexei picked up his phone.
CHAPTER 55
"There he is," Nick said.
He handed the binoculars to Ronnie. Krivi Dass had just come out of his house. He walked down a short flight of steps flanked by three bodyguards and got into the back seat of a white Rolls-Royce. The driver closed the door behind him, got into the front and pulled away.
"Nice ride," Ronnie said.
"He can afford it," Nick said.
They'd rented a silver Mercedes at the airport, something that wouldn't look out of place in the high-end neighborhood where Krivi lived. The air-conditioning struggled against the merciless heat outside. At 10 o'clock in the morning, it was already 107° and climbing. The humidity of Southern India clung to them inside the confines of the car.
They'd decided it was easier to go after Krivi away from his home. Nick was behind the wheel. Selena sat next to him in front. Ronnie was in the back. Nick waited until the Rolls was almost out of sight before pulling out after him.
"Must be hard to live here year round, with this heat," Ronnie said. "It's not even the hottest part of the year yet."
"Not so hard if you were born here," Selena said. "It's Europeans that have trouble."
They followed Krivi's car through residential streets leading away from Malabar Hill to an intersection with a road called the Sion Panvel highway. The Rolls headed west. Nick kept three or four cars behind.
They came to a six lane divided highway marked as the Eastern Express Highway. The white Rolls turned south and headed toward Mumbai.
"Looks like he's going to work," Selena said.
Nick was in the center lane. Traffic was heavy and moving fast. A dark blue Toyota van sped past them on the right. The windows were blacked out.
"He's in a hurry," Ronnie said.
"He's coming up on Krivi," Selena said.
The van cut to the left and pulled alongside Krivi's car. The cargo door on the side of the van slid open. Two men leaned out with automatic weapons and began firing at the Rolls.
"Shit," Ronnie said.
The windows along the side of the Rolls-Royce disintegrated in a shower of glass. Holes appeared in the expensive coach work, dark spots peppering the gleaming white paint. The bullets found the driver and Krivi's car swerved in a sudden impossible turn and rolled. Pieces of metal and glass fountained into the air. The heavy car rolled again toward a concrete divider in the middle of the highway and smashed to a stop.
The blue van accelerated away. Nick dodged the debris and passed the wreck. Krivi's car was totaled. Cars swerved right and left around them, trying to miss the jagged pieces of metal littering the roadway. Nick cut the wheel left, missing a braking taxi. In the rearview mirror, what was left of the Rolls-Royce burst into flame. Black, ugly smoke roiled into the sky.
Ahead, the blue van was still in sight. Nick floored it. The Mercedes leapt ahead.
"Lock and load," he said.
"You want to go after them? What about Krivi?" Selena asked.
"He's dead. We need to know who took him out."
"Probably the same people who killed the others," Ronnie said.
"Yeah, but who are they?"
"We're outgunned," Ronnie said.
"What's your point?"
"Just sayin'."
Ronnie took out his pistol and racked the slide.
Ahead, the tall buildings of Mumbai's city center were getting close. They came up behind the blue van. Nick was thinking about his next move when the rear doors opened. Someone knelt in the back, leveling a rifle at them.
Nick pulled right just as the man fired. The bullets blew out the windshield of a truck behind them. The truck plowed into the side of a bus, driving it off the road. Behind them traffic disintegrated into chaos.
Ronnie leaned out of his window and began firing at the van.
"Get the tires," Nick yelled.
He swerved again as bullets struck the side of the Mercedes. Ronnie fired and the shooter toppled onto the roadway. The Mercedes ran over him with a dull, double thump.
Selena opened the sunroof and stood up through it, her Sig held firm in both hands. She emptied the magazine at the open doors of the blue van and dropped back into the car. The van accelerated into the outside lane, out of control. It struck the low divider and flipped over it onto the opposite side of the highway, straight into the path of a oncoming tractor trailer. The huge truck plowed into the van and pushed it along the pavement in a shower of sparks and screeching metal.
They were going fast. On the other side of the highway, the scene receded in the rearview mirror.
"Now what?" Ronnie asked.
"Now we find a place to dump this car," Nick said. "Someone will have seen us shooting at the van. The police will be looking for it."
"It won't be hard to get rid of it," Ronnie said. "Leave it on the edge of the slums with the keys in it. It'll be gone in minutes."