Inga sat, an impassive observer as Ivan sucked in a deep breath and drew in his shoulders as if that would help them squeeze through. There was an almighty screech of metal and breaking glass; the car shuddered but made it through, minus both side mirrors and sporting deep gouges in its doors and fenders.
Ivan swung right as the tires bit into the tarmac and sped off just as the first of the police cars turned onto the road from the other direction. Ivan slowed and watched his rearview mirror. The line of flashing lights pulled up sharply, some turning into the mansion’s drive and the others blocking the road in both directions.
Resisting the urge to go faster, Ivan drove at a stately pace until he turned left and joined the traffic heading into the city.
“Are you alright?” he asked, thinking his passenger would be traumatized by the hair-raising ride.
“No, Myfriend. My system is detecting errors that can only be rectified with a reboot. Shall I reboot?”
“No,” he said, quickly. “No need, I will contact someone. A technician… someone that can help us.”
“Us? Do you have system errors too, Myfriend?”
“What? No – never mind. I’ll make some calls. We’ll get you fixed.”
Ivan didn’t want to risk a reboot in case she turned back into the efficient killer he had seen in operation just ten minutes before. He had no idea what had made her flip out and massacre Molenski’s people, but whatever it was, it seemed to have been nullified by the damage she had taken from the Russian’s gun. As confident as he was in his own abilities, Ivan didn’t think he would last more than a minute with Inga if she were determined to end him.
He had other problems too, namely, Molenski. He had time to think as he weaved through the heavy afternoon traffic, and he realized it was a grave mistake to have left him alive. If the shoe had been on the other foot, the Russian would have blown his brains out in an instant.
The mob boss was notorious for his unrelenting pursuit of those who did him wrong. Ivan no doubt fell squarely in that category. He had nearly let him get killed, had bashed him unconscious and had stolen his property. Very expensive property.
This whole mess would only end one of two ways, with him or Molenski dead.
Still, there would be time to worry about that later. Depending on how badly hurt Molenski was, and how much grief the cops gave him, it might be days before the hunt began.
“What about your wounds?” he asked Inga. “Do they hurt? I thought you could feel pain.”
“The sensitivity feature activated at 11:09 am and was overridden at 3:23 pm. However, the damage I sustained 7 minutes and 42 seconds later has caused my parts of my previous programming to restart. I feel some pain at this time.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurt, but what happened at 3:23? What made you…?”
She turned to him.
“I do not know, Myfriend.”
“Your wounds? Do we need a doctor?”
“RealFlesh is a patented nano-biological design that replicates real human flesh and is capable of regeneration if treated by a medically trained individual using sutures and antiseptic. Unlike real human skin, no scar tissue will form if wounds are treated within two hours.”
“Okay, we’ll get you fixed, but first I need to take care of something.”
Ivan had already decided they had to get out of the country. It was the only way to escape Molenski’s reach, and even then, they would have to disappear completely. For that, they would need help, and they would find it on the Westside, his old stomping ground.
He knew someone there who could help them. His first boss, Mateo Babic, a man Molenski had apprenticed too, for five years before buying him out. A man who Ivan trusted implicitly.
First, though, he had to ditch his phone and the car. Ivan pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot.
“Do you require sustenance, Myfriend?”
“What? No. I just need to do something quick. You don’t need to get out.”
Ivan parked and got out, dropping his smartphone on the concrete before smashing it under the heel of his patent leather shoe several times.
It was only when he picked it up and headed for the nearest trash bin that he noticed an old lady staring at him through the open window of her big 1970’s Pontiac.
He smiled sheepishly and held the shattered remains of the phone out for her to see.
“Stupid technology!” he said. “I can never get used to these damn things.”
“I hear ya,” she said, and went back to eating her chicken nuggets.
Ivan dropped it in the bin and dusted off his hands before climbing back in the Hellcat. The car would have to be ditched next. He knew just the place.
17
Molenski wanted to sleep, but Tatiana wouldn’t let him. Her insistent shaking was making him angry.
“Let me sleep bitch!” he grumbled, but she wouldn’t.
The more she shook him, the angrier he got until finally, his eyes snapped open. Molenski was confused. He was on the floor with one of his house guards, Nikolai, kneeling over him.
“Mr. Molenski… Boss, can you hear me?”
The events of the recent past came flooding back and he tried to get up too quickly. The Russian swooned and nearly fainted, his neck and the back of his head hurt like a first-time ass fuck.
“Try not to move boss…”
“Fuck that, help me up!”
Despite his swimming vision, Molenski saw that the robot and his bodyguard had gone. He looked across the bed and saw the naked body of his wife. Rage filled him, washing over his pain like it was merely a word etched in sand.
He lashed out at the bed with his foot, kicking it over and over as Nikolai retreated a safe distance. After his violent tantrum, Molenski leaned on the bed, his chest heaving. When he thought it was safe to talk, the guard cleared his throat.
“Boss, the police are here,” the guard said. “What should we do?”
The Russian heard the excitement in the young man’s voice. He turned and placed his hand on the guard’s shoulder.
“Help me dress.”
As quickly as he could, Molenski slipped on a pair of pants and a pullover. He then tucked his Ruger into the back of his pants before heading to the door.
“Where is that fucking dog, Ivan?” he said, over his shoulder.
“I don’t know Boss; there are bodies downstairs, but he hasn’t been seen since you got back from the airport. Whoever hit us probably got him too.”
Molenski was too furious and in too much pain to explain that the fucking traitor was probably alive and well. He headed purposefully towards the staircase.
“About Chicago PD Boss, there are lots of them. Shall we fight?” asked the inexperienced Nikolai from behind him.
“No, you fucking idiot.”
Molenski’s mind raced. Ivan and the robot bitch would have to wait for the moment. He needed to deal with the police first. Then he would find the couple and strap Ivan to a chair so he could watch him deconstruct her, first with a knife, then with a fucking baseball bat before he killed him too.
The Russian was nothing, if not patient.
More guards met them at the base of the staircase.
“Where are they?”
“At the front door sir, we had a standoff, but they didn’t force the issue. They have the warrant to search the house.”
“Good, invite them into the reception room and tell them I’ll be with them in a few minutes. He turned to Nikolai and put his hand on the machine pistol, pushing it down to face the floor.
“Our fight is not with the piggies. I shall talk to them, let them look around and then, after they’ve gone, we will consider what has happened and make our plans. Go back upstairs and put a blanket over my Tatiana, will you.”