Oh, the Agency was going to want to know about those friends. But Ian wanted to know about other friends.
He took out a picture of Eli Nelson. It was from the year before, but it was all he had. Nelson had been careful since London. “Let’s have a talk. As long as you’re truthful, I think you’ll like my hospitality.” It went without saying that if he didn’t, the opposite could be true. “Is your boss involved with this man?”
“My boss is involved with many such interesting people. He is businessman.”
“He is criminal.” Ian pointed to the picture. It wouldn’t do to give up that he was going to take out Denisovitch as well. “But my people don’t tend to mess with your people. We leave that to cops. I’m interested in this man.”
He studied the photo for a moment. “I know of this man. He works for a group that my boss is interested in.”
“A group?” Now that was new information.
Zhukov laughed a little. “Ah, then the great Taggart does not know everything. I rather thought this was truth. You have been out of game for too long. But then again, I am merely, how do you say? I am worker bee. I probably know nothing.”
Ian stared at the man.
Liam leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Eve says he’s ready to deal. Something about body language and being in control. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I think he just looks like an asshole.”
“Pass me the bottle.” If the Russian was ready to deal, Ian was ready to be more hospitable.
Liam passed him a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.
The Russian’s eyes widened. “You are not barbarian after all.”
Ian poured out two nice-sized shots. One didn’t drink alone in Russia. “Of course not.”
Zhukov looked at the vodka. His hands were still tied in front of his body, but Ian was sure he was smart enough to know that he wasn’t going to get untied. No, he was waiting for the second reason Ian was drinking this morning. To prove he wasn’t trying to kill the fucker.
Ian picked up his shot glass. A toast was the way to start any important negotiation. “To your continued health.”
Because if he didn’t have something good, his health was in danger.
Zhukov held his up with clasped hands. “Yes, I think we could both use wishes for health.”
They clinked glasses and downed the entire shot.
“It’s eight in the morning. How can you drink vodka at this time of day?” Liam asked with a little shudder.
Zhukov shrugged. “Any time is time for vodka.”
Ian poured out another couple of shots. “So you were talking about a group.”
“Was I? Maybe there is group. Maybe there is not.”
“That’s interesting because just a moment ago, you sounded very sure.”
He downed another shot. “I am not on inside of syndicate.”
Bullshit. “You’re their top assassin.”
“I was favorite of old guard.”
“Of Vladimir Denisovitch?” Charlie’s father had run the syndicate for many years.
“He was like father to me. When his brother take over, he has his own favorite.”
Yeah, Ian had probably killed his “favorite” the night before, but he wasn’t going to tell Zhukov that. “So the new guard came in and you were on the outs.”
“You Americans have colorful way of saying things. Yes. I was no longer favorite.”
“Yet, he trusted you to come after his number one target.” There was no doubt in his head that Mikhail Denisovitch was obsessed with killing his niece.
“He did not send me alone.” Something about the man’s smile was off. Ian didn’t need Eve to tell him he was hiding something.
“Yes, he sent at least three of you. Do you care to give me an actual number of how many he put under contract for this job?”
There was a slow shrug of the assassin’s shoulder before he answered. “More than three.”
Great. That told him a lot. “Why does your boss want to kill his niece while he’s perfectly capable of doing business with the man who killed his brother?”
That seemed to flummox the man. His eyes tightened slightly, and he glanced back down at the photograph. “No. Charlotte killed her father.”
Ian shook his head, tapping at the image of Nelson. “This is the man who killed Vladimir Denisovitch. He exchanged his services as an assassin for Charlotte’s misdirection of an operative. He then used Denisovitch to cover his own criminal activities with the Agency.”
“Charlotte tried to hire assassin to kill her father, but she could not find a man to take job. We discovered who killed the boss because of this man. He come to Mikhail with documents Charlotte sent him proving she was trying to hire him.”
“And no one ever lied?” Why was Mikhail so ready to believe Nelson? “I happen to know that Charlotte was with me the morning Denisovitch was killed.”
She’d been at their flat in London and then she’d been dead.
“It is not long flight. It is four hours from Sheremetyevo to Heathrow. Easy flight to make when one wants to kill a man. This one has helped us in many ways since then. I think I believe man who helps over whore any day.”
A hand came on his shoulder. Liam. A silent reminder to stay calm. He needed it because he really didn’t like this tattooed motherfucker calling his wife a whore. He was the only one allowed to make that mistake. But he needed information from this man. He calmed himself and Liam’s hand disappeared, reaching out to refill the shot glasses.
“What kind of work does he do for you?” Ian asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yes, I would, and the Agency would like to know as well. Have you ever been waterboarded? They say it’s like drowning over and over again. Just when you think it’s going to be over and death will be pleasant, that’s when they let you breathe again. Only for a few minutes. Just to get you ready for another round.”
Liam chuckled a little. “I’ve heard some stories about the Agency frying a man’s balls off. If they’re not careful enough with the torch, the damn things go up in flames. Tell me something. How’s your grooming routine, boyo?”
The man’s jaw tightened and his hands suddenly threaded together as though he was finally understanding that this wouldn’t be some simple stint in a comfy US jail. “He helps us with pipeline work.”