Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(29)

Nick stared down and grabbed a gooey chunk of rum caramel whatever. Maybe a shot of sugar would help.

“It’s Donetsk, not Debaltseve,” he corrected. “I worked for him there for six years. Then he sent me here to oversee his export operations. He got me a green card, in ’93. I’ve been based here ever since.”

Zhoglo clasped his hands over his swollen paunch. “Brokering arms deals?”

“Among other things. Heroin, hash, girls,” Nick said wearily.

“And what was his wife’s name, again? Margaritka?”

“Magdalena,” Nick corrected him, around the mouthful of crumbs.

Zhoglo turned to Pavel, who stood behind him with the automatic rifle cradled in his arms, the barrel of which was directed more or less toward Nick’s head. “Pavel, isn’t your wife Marya from Donetsk? Perhaps you two are related. The world is small.”

Pavel shrugged indifferently.

“It’s possible,” Nick said. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t been there in over a decade.”

“An interesting story, Arkady,” Zhoglo said slowly. “Consistent, plausible in every detail. And yet, I confess, there are things which perplex me.”

Nick pulled his brain into focus, with a painful wrench of mental muscle. “What things are those, Vor?”

Zhoglo steepled his fat fingers and frowned. “Subtle disparities between the man you describe and the man I see before me here.”

Nick composed himself. OK. He was going to die. He’d been fine with that before Becca showed up and messed with his mind. Caring put a man in chains. He missed the floating freedom of indifference.

He calculated the angle of Pavel’s gun, evaluated various suicidal strategies, seeking the one which would give him the best chance of killing that filthy bastard before Nick bought it himself.

“You strike me as self-possessed, cool, clear-headed, and highly intelligent. You ought to have risen further in life than you have by the age of…forgive me, but how old are you, exactly?”

“Thirty-seven on the eighth of April,” Nick said.

“Thirty-seven, yes. I would think you would already be a pakhan in your own right, carving out your territory in our profitable global trade. Not just a middleman for minor arms and drug deals. Or a pimp.” Zhoglo clicked his tongue, staring at Nick out of slitted gray eyes. “Which brings me to the presence of this woman on the island. She does somewhat cancel out my impression of your intelligence.”

Nick manufactured a hangdog look. Goon gone wrong. Play the part, he told himself. “It was stupid, Vor,” he admitted. “I ask your pardon.”

“You do not wish to be in the position of asking my pardon again.”

“I know. And I won’t.” Nick meant it.

“It does perplex me.” Zhoglo went on. “That you would bring her here, knowing that she can never leave this place. I assume you have organized a pretext for her disappearance.”

Nick tried to swallow, but his spit had dried up. “Ah. Um. Of course. But you have to admit that she is something special.”

“Considering that she is disposable, I am surprised at your sentimental regard for her,” Zhoglo mused.

Nick cleared his throat, clutching his mug to hide the fact that his hands shook. So their videotaped sex hadn’t been enough. The f*cking shark wanted blood.

“She’s not my usual type,” he said sullenly. “I reacted, that’s all. She took me by surprise. And it was of prime importance to keep her in good working condition. As I told you, Vor, I wanted you to eat well—”

“Yes, yes, your care for my creature comforts has been duly noted. Even so…” Zhoglo dug into his jacket pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out, and held out the pack to Nick with a benevolent smile. “Please, Arkady. Indulge. You look tense.”

Nick lit up and sucked in a lung-blistering drag.

Becca came in with a fresh pot full of fragrant steaming brew. She leaned over Zhoglo’s shoulder, did her graceful geisha routine. The gurgle of liquid in that f*cker’s cup sounded sexual. Nick’s jaw ached as she came around and gave him the same treatment. Her tits bouncing under sheer fabric, that whiff of violets—did she have to look so f*cking good? Was it necessary? The eyes of every man in the room followed her until the door clicked shut.

“Mmm,” Zhoglo murmured. “I love that air of haughty innocence. Attractive, if short-lived, by its very nature. It is always enjoyable to watch a woman learn her true place. I look forward to it.”

The smoke left a bitter taste, like a mouthful of dirt. Nick coughed.

“You must keep your cook presentable until this evening,” Zhoglo informed him. “A guest is being brought from Shepherd’s Bay. I wish dinner to be served to the two of us at seven-thirty.”

“Do you need someone to pick up your guest, Vor? I—”

“Yevgeni will handle that,” Zhoglo said smoothly. “Becca will provide just the right touch of decadence, half-dressed as she is. And my guest might enjoy her. I’ll offer her to him first, while she’s fresh and dewy. It is civil to share, no?”

Nick choked on smoke, and coughed again.

“For now, your duties shall be simple,” Zhoglo said. “Until I know exactly who I am dealing with, you will restrict yourself to setting tables, chopping vegetables, polishing silver. And live sex shows, of course.”