Page 49

He said, “Hey, man, let’s talk about this. We both work for Andrei. Maybe we should call him before we start waving guns. Right?”

Shakor lowered his weapon and pulled the trigger, the sound of the bullet firing a muted spit, soon overwhelmed by Pushka screaming and falling out of his chair. Pushka rolled, and then stood up, hobbling as fast as he could to the stairwell exit.

The scene of him falling over generated a little excitement in the bar, but not a lot. Branko looked around, seeing that nobodywas really paying any attention to what had just happened. He raised his hands and said, “Okay, okay, whatever you want.”

Shakor put the weapon underneath the table and said, “The treasure. That’s what I want. Where is it? I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t.”

Branko snatched a bottle off the table and smashed it into Shakor’s head, knocking him out of the chair. He leapt up to escape out the stairwell like Pushka had just done and found himself facing the other man, now holding a knife. He glanced left and right, saw the wall for the balcony, and ran toward it, jumping over as if it was literally a fence separating him from the earth on the other side at the same level.

But he knew that wasn’t true. He fell, the drop longer than he expected, with his mind wondering what the impact would be like.

He hit a table direct center, crushing it and cracking the left ribs of his body. He rolled over on the ground, moaning, hearing the shouting of the people around him. He looked up and saw the second man staring over the balcony wall, fury on his face.

He rolled upright, leapt the small iron railing of the lower terrace, and fell to the earth below. He slid for a few feet in the dirt, saw the alley below, and dove forward, going head over heels until he slid on the street itself. He looked back and saw Shakor and his mate coming over the wall.

He hit the street and began running. He reached the Mlinski Stairs and took them four at a time, crashing into the walls left and right as he barreled down them. He lost his footing and spilled into a courtyard next to the stairs. He rolled over and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Pushka while watching for anyone behind him.

Pushka answered, saying, “What the fuck, man? I’ve been shot!”

“I know, I know. I’m being chased right now. We need to get back to the apartment and clean it out. We have to run.”

“I’minthe apartment, man, and someone’s been here.”

“What’s that mean? What do you mean?”

“Two guys were here. They left the apartment when I entered the hallway.”

“Is the place turned over? Like it was tossed?”

“No. It’s just like we left it. Nothing changed. Man, I’m fucking bleeding out here. I’m fucking shot!”

Even with the world of hurt he was experiencing, Branko knew he needed to get Pushka back into the fold. He couldn’t go back to the apartment, but he didn’t need to with Pushka.

Even as he didn’t believe it, he said, “Pushka, nobody has been into our apartment. There’s a first aid pack in the bathroom. Bandage yourself up and get out. Take the computer with you. The rest is no threat, but get that computer.”

“Are you fucking serious? We just got shot at. What the fuck is going on?”

Branko heard footsteps coming down the stairs and said, “I don’t know, but get out and run.”

“Run where? What the fuck do I do? I don’t do this, man. Where do I go?”

Branko saw a shadow and leapt up, saying, “I don’t know. Jesus. I’ve got people behind me right now. Just get out.”

He took off running again, reaching Radiceva, and thought about turning north to his apartment to meet Pushka, when two men passed him, both hard-looking, but giving him no attention. It spooked him. They already knew where he lived. He turnedsouth and began jogging, running out of energy, his lungs screaming for air in his dilapidated body, the adrenaline not giving him the boost he needed.

He heard his name shouted behind him and that was all that was required, the adrenaline shooting through him like a bolt of lightning. He ran south until he reached a small archway in a building right up on the street, darting inside of it and racing forward.

He entered a concrete tunnel built decades before he was even born, the dim lights creating shadows throughout, barely illuminating the path ahead, the dampness and moldy smell a familiar feeling.

He knew where it ended, and hoped the people following him had no idea.

Chapter28

I got the call from Jennifer and looked at Knuckles, saying, “This is going to go bad. Pick it up.”

He said, “Me? What’s that clone thing doing?”

I said, “Four minutes left. What do you have?”