Near Dark (Scot Harvath #19)(108)
Yet winging a few security guards and taking a quick joyride with the man’s wife hardly seemed worthy of a one-hundred-million-dollar bounty. Which was why getting to Leveque was so critical. Only he could reveal who had hired him, and hopefully why.
* * *
On the west side of Antibes was the commune of Vallauris—best known for being home to Picasso from the late 1940s to the mid-1950s.
In its seaside town of Golfe-Juan, Gaston Leveque had a beautiful little bungalow. When he returned home from his shift at the Cap-Eden-Roc, Harvath was sitting on his patio, a glass of wine on the table, and his best, most-expensive Chablis in the ice bucket next to him.
“Bonsoir, Gaston,” he said.
The man panicked and tried to run back into the house, but Haney and Staelin were waiting for him. Dragging him over to the table, they sat him down and flex-cuffed him to the chair.
After complimenting him on the wine, Harvath gave him a brief rundown on what had taken place, and then began asking questions. He was reticent at first, but Gage—who was eager to contribute to the information-gathering portion of their mission—was very persuasive.
Harvath thought he had seen it all, but what the man could do with off-the-shelf items, like a nasal spray bottle and lighter fluid, was quite inspired.
It wasn’t something any of them reveled in. Leveque was a very, very bad man. Not just by way of all the murders he had facilitated, but just as equally all the sexual exploitation of women and children. The discomfort the man was feeling now paled in comparison to the physical, emotional, and psychological trauma he had caused countless others. He had racked up a huge bill and now karma, in the form of Harvath, had come to collect.
When Harvath left, his questions answered and the team out warming the car in the driveway, Harvath lingered only long enough to take a picture for Nicholas and grab the bottle of wine from the ice bucket. Not only was it one of the best he had ever tasted, he was going to be up late doing some serious thinking. There was one more move he needed to make, and he wanted to execute it perfectly.
CHAPTER 54
CENTRE ANTOINE LACASSAGNE
NICE
THE NEXT MORNING
As soon as Nekrasov’s driver, Valery, had put his boss into the elevator and the doors had closed, Staelin popped out from behind a parked car and hit him with the Taser.
“Coming up,” he said over his earbud, as the big Russian fell to the floor of the garage.
“Good copy,” Harvath replied.
Seconds later, on the building’s third floor, the elevator chimed, its doors opened and Nekrasov stepped out.
He was in a foul mood. He didn’t like being dragged back for a second opinion on whether his wife’s implants should be removed. The only thing that made it worthwhile was that the facility had exceptionally attractive nurses. With what a headache Eva had been, he was tilting now, more than ever, toward taking a mistress. Maybe he would find one here.
Even though he was late, again, he spent a few minutes chatting up the nurses at the front desk before being directed back to his wife’s room, where she was awaiting her exam.
When he entered the room, without knocking, a new doctor was already chatting with her. He stood in the doorway for a second, feeling the doctor was somehow familiar.
“Please close the door,” the man in the white lab coat said, without fully turning around to face him.
Nekrasov did as he was asked.
Once he had closed the door, Harvath turned and pointed a suppressed Glock 43 pistol at him—just like the one the assassin sent to Key West had confronted him with.
“Hello, Nikolai,” said Harvath. “Take a seat. We’re going to have a chat.”
“You,” the Russian grumbled angrily. “You have the nerve to accost me in front of my wife. You have no—”
“Shut up,” Eva interrupted her husband. “Do what he says. Sit down.”
Nekrasov complied.
Harvath pulled out his phone, activated a banking app, and held it an inch away from the man’s face. “Don’t blink,” he commanded. “Don’t even fucking move.”
There was a click and Harvath then swiped to another screen. Placing the suppressor against Nekrasov’s forehead, he extended the phone again, this time saying, “Right thumbprint, in the red box. Do it now.”
Nekrasov did as Harvath demanded, stating, “That boy you killed wasn’t just President Peshkov’s son; Misha was my godson.”
“He was also a fucking psychopath,” said Harvath. “You should have stayed out of it.”
“I bet one hundred million dollars against you.”
“And you lost.”
“I never lose,” said the Russian.
A moment later, Eva’s phone chimed.
Harvath looked at her. “Everything good?”
She nodded.
“Are we happy?”
“Very,” she replied.
Turning his attention back to Nekrasov, he stated, “You have no idea how lucky you are. Every single day when you wake up, you had better thank God for your wife and for your children. The day you stop thanking Him, is the day I’ll be back.”
With that, he turned and disappeared.
* * *
On their way back to the airport, Haney, who was riding shotgun, turned around to face Harvath. Holding out his phone, he showed him a website and asked, “That place in Lithuania, where you wanted me to send the wooden crosses, is the total still five?”