Diary of a Teenage Jewel Thief(53)
Uncle Samuel looks from Vasili to me to Petrov as if debating the best course of action. I silently will him to somehow suddenly be an excellent marksman capable of shooting Petrov, but not my mother, and putting us all out of our misery. Instead, my uncle lowers his aim, and Niko is quick to get up from his seat and relieve Uncle Samuel of his weapon and aim it back at him.
“Now that we’ve settled that,” Petrov says, his voice still disturbingly neutral, “everybody off the plane.”
Vasili steps out of the way and motions for Will and me to disembark first. Will sets a hand on the small of my back to encourage me to walk in front of him, once again placing himself between me and potential harm. But we both know what’s coming. It doesn’t matter which one of us faces the business end of those guns first; Petrov has ordered us all to be killed. It will be my turn eventually.
Chapter Twenty-Four
They line us up like prisoners on the tarmac underneath the jet, shoulder to shoulder. Uncle Samuel, my mom, me, then Will all in a row, and it’s clear Petrov is envisioning a sort of unofficial firing squad for us. My stomach is in tense knots, and my heart is pumping painfully behind my ribs. My breath is shallow and labored, and my nerve endings burn, even inside my brain. Is this what a panic attack feels like? It’s no surprise that I would be having one right now. The moments right before I’m murdered seem like a pretty good time to have my first full-blown panic attack.
To my left, Will stealthily links his fingers through mine and gives my hand a light squeeze. I’m sure the action is meant to comfort me, but it just makes me feel worse. I feel guilty for getting him into this mess in a roundabout way. If I hadn’t decided that I needed to be a regular teenager, my mother wouldn’t have asked him to keep an eye on me, and he wouldn’t have been kidnapped by Petrov’s men to use as a bargaining chip. And he wouldn’t be about to die next to me. Does his family even know he’s gone?
“Do it,” Petrov urges Vasili in that emotionless monotone I’ve come to recognize as the voice he uses when issuing orders. His boss voice.
Vasili still has his weapon in hand, but it’s lowered at his side. He makes no effort to lift it despite Petrov’s command to do so. “I don’t think so.” His voice is whisper soft but clear as day. Relief makes me a little light-headed. He’s refusing to kill us, and as much as I dislike him, I could hug him for it right now.
Petrov, on the other hand, is turning tomato red, and his lips are pursed in a thin, furious line. “What do you mean, you don’t think so?” he grates out between clenched teeth.
“If you want them dead, you will have to get someone else to do it. After all, guys like my brother and me are just someone to do your dirty work. Isn’t that what you said?”
Petrov sputters angrily, and for a moment, I think he might be about to charge Vasili and inflict the violence he’s so clearly feeling right now. “I only said that because I knew he wasn’t going to kill your brother. He’s too weak-willed for that. His only strength is in the number of drinks he can inhale and still remain conscious. I said what I did to buy you time to get your gun out. And it worked.”
Vasili still looks skeptical. He places his weapon back into his shoulder holster and holds both hands up in the air. “I’m washing my hands of this. If you want it done, do it yourself. I don’t work for you anymore.”
Niko mirrors Vasili’s posture and says, “Yes, we do not work for you anymore.” They both back away several steps and cross their arms over their chests in tandem.
If they’re no longer doing Petrov’s bidding, and are in fact not going to hurt us, then that means Petrov is outnumbered. But if he has a firearm on him somewhere, then that means we’re outgunned. I look first to Will, then to my mother, and then past her to Uncle Samuel to see if the same thoughts have occurred to them, too. Will is scrutinizing Petrov intently, like he’s trying to gauge what his next move will be and when he’ll make it. My mother’s gaze is on me, though. I motion with my eyes to direct her attention to Vasili and Niko, then nod toward Petrov, and she catches on immediately. And passes the message to my uncle.
“Fine,” Petrov announces and holds out his hand expectantly, “give me your gun, and I will do it myself.”
The former henchmen exchange a look. Then Niko unholsters his sidearm to deliver it to Petrov.
So they’re not going to kill us themselves, but they’re not going to help us by standing in his way, either. Part of me is disappointed, but I’m not at all surprised.
The second Niko places the gun in Petrov’s outstretched hand, Will and my uncle both leap into action. Will once again practices his go-to move and steps in front of me protectively, but this time, he’s facing me with his back toward Petrov. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a tight embrace.
At the same time Will is attempting to become my own personal human shield, Uncle Samuel races straight for Petrov, probably hoping to catch him off guard before he has a chance to shoot any of us. My mother is hot on his heels to help, but it doesn’t make any difference. Petrov outraces them, getting the gun raised and his finger on the trigger before they manage to close the distance between him and them.
Boom. The shot echoes, even in the open air, or maybe just in my own ears. My stomach drops into my feet, and my feet grow roots into the tarmac. I fight the urge to cover my ears and bury my face in Will’s shirt. Instead, I push away from him so I can get a better view of what’s happening.