Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 98566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98566 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“If they find out you covered for me, you’ll be in trouble,” I said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Go. Go, Hailey, go and... be happy.”
I heard that tiny pang of jealousy in his voice again and my chest tightened. He deserves to be happy, too. “Thank you,” I whispered. And ended the call.
Less than five minutes later, we were in the Mercedes, speeding towards the airport. There was no sign of pursuit yet but Grigory wasn’t taking any chances and had his foot hard down. Meanwhile, in the back, Konstantin was on his phone, looking up the number of a Russian government contact who could help me arrange an emergency, last-minute visa. I dug out my own phone so I could call her.
Weird. My phone was off. I turned it on and waited for it to boot, trying to remember why I’d turned it off. Then Konstantin was reading me the number and moments later I was speaking to a woman in Moscow, painstakingly spelling out Christina’s name, the address of the mansion, her passport number, and date of birth... the woman was polite and efficient but the questions seemed to go on forever and we were nearly at the airport before we were done. I thanked her and sat back in my seat with a sigh of relief. Then we were pulling up outside the terminal and hurrying past the crowds. Konstantin went in front, his size and attitude clearing a path for me. Thanks to it being a private flight, we breezed straight past check in and security and we were jogging across the runway towards the jet when my phone rang.
I stared at it in confusion. I recognized the number: Calahan. But why would he be calling me now? To try to change my mind? Or to warn me the FBI were moving in? I put the phone to my ear, still running. It was loud, out here, with planes roaring overhead as they came in for landing, and I had to shout. “What is it?”
Calahan was panting, frantic. It sounded like he was talking from a moving car, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“What?” I yelled.
“Arrest him!” repeated Calahan. “Hailey, everything’s changed. You have to arrest him!”
57
Hailey
I STUMBLED to a stop. Ahead of me, Konstantin kept running. I pressed the phone hard against my ear, shutting out the din of the aircraft overhead. “What?” I asked. “What do you mean, what’s changed?”
“The photo you sent, of Grigory putting that case into the trunk of his car?”
Now I remembered why my phone had been off. I’d shut it down when I was hiding in the basement garage, just after I’d taken the photo. And the last few days had been a non-stop rush: I hadn’t turned it back on since. The photo must have been sitting in my outbox and it had sent as soon as I’d turned my phone back on. Even as I’d been running away with Konstantin, I’d been unwittingly sending one last piece of evidence to the FBI. “What about it?”
“There was a model number on the case. I ran it through the computer. Hailey, it’s a Russian sniper rifle, designed to punch through bulletproof glass. That’s what Grigory was delivering for Konstantin. That’s the “tool” the guy you met at the shopping mall needed.”
It made sense. One of Grigory’s jobs was managing weapons for Konstantin’s men. He was the perfect person to get hold of a rifle and deliver it. My stomach lurched: I already knew what Calahan was going to say next.
“Hailey, it’s an assassination. Konstantin paid that guy at the shopping mall a quarter of a million dollars to murder someone!”
I shook my head. “No!” Ahead of me, Konstantin had realized I wasn’t with him, and had spun around to look. He frowned, worried, as he saw me standing there on the phone. “He wouldn’t do that,’ I said. “Not cold-blooded murder.” But a creeping dread was spreading through me.
“That’s exactly what he’d do. Hailey, this is Konstantin Gulyev! He wants to take over the city and if he’s trying to kill someone protected by bulletproof glass, someone so important it costs a quarter of a million—”
“...it must be one of the other crime bosses,” I finished for him. Killing one of them would trigger the gang war the FBI feared, the very reason I’d been sent to take Konstantin down in the first place. I wanted to throw up.
“We’re on our way,” Calahan said. I heard the screech of tires in the background. “But we won’t get to the airport in time to stop him. You have to do this.”
Konstantin was running back towards me, now. “What’s the matter?” he called. “What’s going on?”
The dread reached my heart, my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. Calahan was still talking, telling me to do it, do it now, but my arm went limp and I dropped the phone to my side and just stood there, staring at Konstantin as he approached.