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“My sister is headstrong.What could I do?”
He carried a gun.Did I really have to spell it out?Seemed I’d credited him with fifty percent more brain cells than he actually possessed.
“When you visited the hospital this morning, how did you know Ottie would be going for tests?”
“Two nurses were talking about it in the parking lot yesterday.I called Fedor, and he said we should take her.”
We went back and forth for another fifteen minutes, but the men offered nothing else useful.They hadn’t been hired for their ingenuity, more for their loyalty, but even that seemed to be in short supply.Fedor had paid as little as he thought he could get away with, a mistake that made my job a piece of cake.The good kind with sprinkles.A few roubles might buy unspeakable acts, but unwavering silence cost extra.
In spite of their ignorance, we had more information now than when we’d started, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.If I left right now, I could still make the afternoon shift at the Craft Cabin.
I motioned toward the door, and Emmy joined me outside.Where was the driver?Alex had put him back into the ambulance, still tied to the chair, and I checked his pulse.His heart beat strongly, and there was no sign of anaphylaxis.
“What did you give him?”Emmy asked.
“Saline, ketamine, and milk.”
“Milk?”
“I needed something white, and I didn’t have propofol.”
“You should have said—I’d have brought a bottle.”
“Well, I’m used to working alone.Wherever he goes, he’ll need some supportive therapy—fluids, antibiotics, that type of thing.The milk was pasteurised, but the proteins won’t be good for him.”
“I’ll let the team know.”
“The man they’re looking for is Valery Fedorov, who in turn works with Yuma Loslov, who works for Anton Stepanov.Stepanov is—”
“Markovich’s nemesis.”
“Precisely.”
Emmy studied me with a sudden intensity, and if I hadn’t had Nine’s spirit running through my veins, maybe I’d have stepped back.
“You’re good, Darya.Really fucking good at what you do.Are you really gonna spend the rest of your life knitting?”
“I’m also good at knitting.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“At least here I have a life.Before, I only had an existence.”
“But knitting?”
“I have no choice.Never again will I be a man’s tool, and I’m not going to run the gauntlet as an assassin for hire either.”
“You’re the Bad Samaritan.You must miss your old life, if only a little.”
Who had told her about the Bad Samaritan?Nico.It must have been Nico.Colt or Luca wouldn’t have mentioned that in this morning’s interview.
“There’s a difference between taking a taste every now and again and disappearing for weeks to gorge myself.I have responsibilities now.Staff.Customers.A cat.And an excellent cover I can’t afford to ruin.Can I get a ride back to Baldwin’s Shore?”
“Sure.What about vacation time?”
“Two weeks a year?”
“You’re the boss, and you’re obviously still training hard.Why not take a month?”