“This is the deal,” Mike said. “I was listening to you in the truck, so I know you’re the leader, ‘Mikhail.’ So why don’t you keep your fat friend from having his head blown off, and various unpleasantries to you, by telling me why a couple of Russian hitters are traveling with Chechens.”
“Yob tvoyu mat” Mikhail said, panting.
“Jeeze, you’re stupid,” Mike said, pointing the pistol at Dmitri and dropping him with a round through the teeth that blew out the back of his head, spattering the Keldara and the surviving Russian with brains.
“You son of a bitch!” Mikhail snarled, struggling in the grip of the two Keldara.
“Your turn, comrade,” Mike said, pointing the .45 at the Russian’s knee. “You’ve got four major joints. And even after I shoot them, there are various unpleasant things I can do to you. Huh-one, huh-two… no? Three.”
The Russian screamed as the .45 blew his knee joint to splinters and sagged in the grip of the Keldara, but they held him upright.
“Damn, you’re dumb,” Mike shook his head. “You’re going to die. You’ve got to know that. And I know you don’t have some honor code to stick to. Now, me, I’d take a lot before I’d give up the location of some SEAL buddies. But you? You’ve got nothing to look to but money. What’s the point in suffering for something you’re not going to earn, anyway? Tell me what I want to know and I’ll put a bullet through your head and put you out of pain. I don’t promise more than that, but you can hope.”
“Fuck you,” the Russian panted.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Mike said, kicking him squarely in his wounded knee.
This time the Russian fell to the ground, writhing, despite the best efforts of the Keldara to hold him upright.
“Plug the hole before he bleeds out,” Mike said, stepping away. “Don’t let his apparent pain give him an opening. But let’s try to keep him alive for a bit.”
Three Keldara pinned the writhing Russian to the ground while a fourth worked on the knee, plugging it with coagulating-impregnated cotton and then wrapping it in a pressure bandage. It was still bleeding, but not as copiously, when the Keldara was done.
“Feeling better?” Mike asked, stepping up to the Russian and then kicking him, hard, in the bandaged kneecap.
When the screaming died down Mike sqatted near the Russian’s head and shook his own.
“Come on, Mikhail,” Mike said, sympathetically. “Why were you with the Chechens? What in the hell is going to make them let a couple of Russians ride with them?”
“Weapons…” Mikhail grunted.
“Oh, give me a break,” Mike said, shaking his head. “Hold out his arm, it’s the elbow next…”
“No!” Mikhail gasped. “Special weapons. That’s all I know. There is a trade. Money for special weapons.”
“How much money?” Mike asked.
“I don’t know,” Mikhail said, desperately. “I was just to meet about security arrangements.”
“The Russian mob is selling the Chechens weapons?” Mike asked, musingly. “Vladimir is going to love that.”
“Not mob,” Mikhail said. “Sergei. Sergei Karensky. He is handling security for someone, I don’t know who. Eduard was to discuss money. He said only that it was very much. Very much.”
“Not enough, Mikhail,” Mike said, putting the hot barrel of the .45 to the Russian’s elbow. “What kind of weapons? How much money?”
“I don’t KNOW!” he screamed. “Much money!”
“Where was the meet going to go down?” Mike asked.
“Somewhere near Arensia,” Mikhail gasped.
“That’s right in the Pankisi, Mikhail,” Mike pointed out. “There is no security in that region. How were they getting in, chopper?”
“Cars,” Mikhail gasped. “Land Rovers. From the Russian sector. Sergei set it up. Right at the edge of the Pankisi Gorge.”
“And why didn’t you go in that way?” Mike asked.
“Too risky,” Mikhail said. “He can do it once, but only once. Please, I’ve answered your questions. I ask only that you not kill me.”
“I rarely leave enemies alive, Mikhail,” Mike said, sympathetically. “You know how it is. You just can’t trust a live enemy. You can trust a dead one.”
“Kildar,” Oleg pointed out from behind him. “He will remember more things. Perhaps if Vanner questioned him more at base, there would be useful information he could extract.”
“Hmmm…” Mike said, standing up. “Mikhail, here’s the deal. Vanner’s a very nice guy. Bit of a geek, bit squeamish. If you’re very nice to Sergeant Vanner, perhaps I’ll let you live and let you retain the use of your dick. Do you think you can be open-minded about that?”
“Yes,” Mikhail squeezed out.
“And, who knows, you might even walk without a limp,” Mike said, holstering the .45. “They do remarkable reconstructive surgery these days. I had a buddy who was a SEAL instructor who lost his lower leg in Afghanistan and a year later it hardly slowed down his runs. Of course, he lost it to a fucking mine you dip-shit Russians planted. You scattered them all over the fucking country. So you’ll understand if I’m less than caring if you do walk with a limp for the rest of your life. Oleg, get this piece of shit out of my sight.”
“McKenzie,” Mike said when he found the former SAS sergeant.
“Heard the shots,” McKenzie said, scooping up a spoonful of beef stew. “And the screams. Anyone live?”
“One,” Mike said. “And this is now a sanitization situation. Not because of the bodies, but the Russkies were setting up a meet with the Chechens involving ‘special weapons.’ We might have queered that by hitting these two.”
“Pity,” the NCO said, folding the pouch and putting it away. “What do you want to do?”
“I want everything to disappear,” Mike said. “Get the Keldara up here. All the bodies go in the ground, the trucks disappear, the mules disappear. The girls go into the caravanserai with the remaining Russian.”
“What about the bearers and the Chechen leader types?”
“Take them back to the caravanserai,” Mike said. “There are all those cellars and what-not. We’ll see what we can get from them.”
“You’re one cold son of a bitch,” Adams said, admiringly. “You just tangoed that one bastard and shot up the other?”
“Russians aren’t going to work with the Chechens unless they’re secret emissaries or there’s a hell of a lot of money involved,” Mike said, forking up a piece of egg with steak. “If they were from the government they were going to ID themselves right off. We’d protect them like gold and they know it. Ergo, they were with the mob or something along those lines. And that meant big money which meant something special.”
“WMDs again?” Adams asked.
“At a guess,” Mike replied, shaking his head. “A Russian would sell his own mother for the right money.” He looked up as Vanner entered the kitchen, holding sheets of paper. “Get anything good?”
“After they saw what you did to the Russian, all the Chechens opened up. It was a basic supply run with the added mission of getting the Russians to some of the top Chechen guys over in the Pankisi.” The former Marine was red-eyed and gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from Mother Savina as he sat down unceremoniously. “The dead Russian wasn’t much help but he did have this,” Vanner added, sliding a plastic card across the table.
“And this is?” Mike asked, looking at the unmarked card with a series of numbers on it.
“I’m surprised you’ve never seen one,” Vanner said, amused. “They’re issued to keep track of Swiss bank account numbers.”
“Not from Zurich Mercantile,” Mike said.