16. Yuri

After killing the giant guy headed for Katya, I fired blindly twice over my left shoulder, not caring whether I hit anything or not. It was just to slow them down, keep them out of the picture for a minute to collect Katya so we could get the hell out of there.

A tall rectangle of dim light was a doorway out of the tunnels, into some basement. I had Katya by the wrist, and we went through the doorway, me first, then her.

There was firing from behind us and voices yelling “Stop or I’ll shoot!” but they were already shooting at us, so I knew these guys weren’t seasoned soldiers. Besides, Maxim and Anton should be arriving behind them to outflank them and fire up their rear. The other guys were with them, or waiting in the SUVs or even in the basement for us — it didn’t matter until me and Katya were with them. We were on our own until then.

I went through the doorway, leaping out into space over the stairs, my feet hit the fourth step, the ninth step, and the floor below. Katya followed but was like an anchor weighing me down, making it so my jump hit the fourth step instead of clearing the steps completely.

This was just another tunnel, not a basement yet, but an access tunnel, a side tunnel, not usually used by students. We crouched under the low ceiling crisscrossed by black pipes, and made for the next tunnel entrance, and the way up and out, if I was right. I had Katya dive headfirst into the tunnel, disappearing to the knees, and then wriggling away, her feet twisting and yanking with exertion. I paused, getting the explosives out of my bag as Katya stuck her head back into my section of the tunnel. “I have to knock it out, the entrance,” I explained to her.

“But Tasha,” Katya said, her brow furrowed.

Tasha was sprawled across the concrete tunnel up there, her head blown apart, dead as dead could be. “She’s finished,” I told her. “We’re not.”

“Oh, damn,” Katya said to nobody. She was petulant and pouting, ridiculous mannerisms, ridiculous to care about Tasha’s body when we were in danger. But Katya didn’t argue, thankfully. She pulled her head back in the tunnel and left me to it.

I went down on one knee, opened my bag on the floor, took out a metal tube wrapped in black electric tape, twisted the top, stood, and tossed it in a gentle underhand at the doorway. Before it landed, I was on one knee again, tossing the empty bag, praying it landed right.

The tube sailed over Tasha and hit the ground next to her rib cage. The doorway disappeared in a flash of light, sound, smoke, and debris. I was briefly knocked down on my hands and knees. Smoke rolled backward at me swiftly across the room. The explosion reverberated back and forth, enclosed in the stone walls. I went through the tunnel, grabbed Katya and yelled at her, “Come on!” but couldn’t hear myself for the ringing in my ears.

Katya was moving all the same, shaking her head in annoyance, she was on her feet again and hurrying down the tunnel.

I looked over where the stairs and doorway had been, but the smoke obscured everything. And I couldn’t hear anything outside my own body, no sounds other than the thud of my own heart and the rush of blood through my veins.

In the roaring silence, as the smoke puffed around us, I prodded and pushed Katya through the tunnel, twelve feet through rock and damp hard earth, until we finally came out in a basement.

This was a newer basement in a newer building, with concrete floors and plaster walls and a big green power plant humming to itself away on the right.

I moved up to the top step, to look past Katya and out into the lobby of the building— it was supposed to be an administrative office, plenty of people for us to get lost in and walk out the doors. But all the people were gone, they must have heard the explosion and the gunshots and disappeared.

Also good.

We pushed through the doorway, me in the lead now, and kept one hand up, obscuring our faces. I took the two-inch Smith she stayed curled up the whole way.

When we get to the safe-house, I get out and open her door, “Let’s go in, Katya,” I tell her, as gentle as I can be.

She turns her head to look at me but I’m not sure my words registered. She was a good-looking woman, but fear and trauma had made her angular and jagged.

“You can’t check out of life right now. You need to keep moving, like a shark, there’s still danger and if we stop moving, we die. Come in, get up.”

She can hear me, the words register somewhere in there, but she just lifts herself up from the seat and that’s about all she can do. It’s her head, not her body but she needs to be stronger mentally. And soon.

Physical exhaustion she can learn to push through, but the mental part is harder to push through and get better at. Not being strong enough mentally is also the main thing that might get her killed in the future. It makes her a risk to me for as long as I need her— and if I must rescue her like today. The more I must put myself in danger for her, the more people I must lose on her account, like Tasha, the less worthwhile she becomes as an investment.

If she can’t or won’t get better, get tougher, I might have to liquidate her as a bad investment.

She thawed slowly, straightening, her arms losing their tension, her face relaxing back toward something I recognized. She said, “Who-” and stopped because her voice was rusty. She coughed and cleared her throat, ducking her head in a gesture I knew, and looked up at me to say, “Who were they? What did they want?”

“You know it was Petya, again.” I tell her. I can’t be the soft protector for her now—or ever. She has to get tougher and me going easy won’t help her.

I take her in my arms and carry her inside, as I carry her, I notice she’s straining to breathe, like her throat is cinched tight. “Easy, Kat, relax.” But no matter how hard she swallowed, the sharp constriction wouldn’t go away, she was struggling for air – hyperventilating.

I gripped her close to me, steadying her. “What is it?”

She shook her head, struggling not to feel, not to give into those fears and emotions painted on her face.

“Tell me.” I said and gave her a soft, urgent shake.

I sat her down on the bed and fetched a cup of water from the bathroom. “Drink,” I order her. “Slowly.”

She looks at me, I see the pain and fear in her eyes.

This day is going to haunt her for the rest of her life, just like Dmitry’s death has. I doubt she ever really came to terms with that one, though. This one she has no choice but to get over it.

She drinks slowly like I told her, when she goes to tip the glass down, I hold the end up. “Finish it, slowly. You were hyperventilating, this will normalize your breathing.”

Finished, I take the glass and watch her chest rise and fall as it should, she can breathe again. If only for a moment.

Quickly her deep breaths give way to coughing sobs. Tears swelled in her eyes, and I held her by the shoulders as she tried to push me away, then twisted away. She fought me off like a flailing drowning woman, but I held her tight, contained her. The more she struggled, the more firmly I held her, until she was gathered against my chest in a nerveless bundle. Trying to swallow back the shuddering sounds that came from her throat only made them worse.

“You’re safe,” I told her. “Easy… you’re safe. I won’t let go.”

Now she was no longer trying to escape but fighting to press closer and hide against me. Her arms clutched around my neck, her face against my throat as she sobbed too hard to breathe.

I hold her like that for I don’t know how long. Until she finally fell asleep and let go of my neck. The tenderness I was feeling for her and her rocking sobs that finally turned into sleep, was turning into hardness as I thought about the phone calls I had to make.

One to my men to check for casualties.

One for Viktor to let him know Katya is safe.

I placed a pillow in Katya’s arms to hug as if it was my neck and leave her there in her bed.

I walk out and place a call on my cell, “Hey Viktor,” I say as he answers.

“Yuri? My god, are you alright, is Katya okay, is she with you?”

“Yes, we’re fine. So, you heard?”

“It’s on the news, I could only guess from the descriptions it was Bratva business. Tell me where you are, I need to see you both.”

“We’re fine, but she’s a little traumatized. I’m at one of your safe houses but leaving soon. My place is a fortress, you couldn’t even get in there. I wanted to tell you that there were too many men out there for Petya— he’s small-time, with a small-time crew. This crew was big and professional and the furthest thing from small-time. Any idea who’s backing him? It’s somebody big with a big war chest is all I know. Can you investigate that for me?”

“Sure, sure. But Yuri, bring Katya home. She’ll be safe with me.”

“She’s safer with me. My guess is whoever Petya is teamed up with, they’re going after you next. They missed their shot at Katya, to bring you to your knees, make you capitulate, but now that they’ve missed —and lost so many men—they have to go after you now, or risk never being able to do it. That’s what I would do after missing today.”

“You might be right. Please stay at the safe house for a while longer— I might be safer there too.”

“Can’t do it. You made her my priority, that’s what I’m doing. Plus, we don’t want all our eggs in one basket, then Petya will come here for us again.”

“Ok, ok. Update me soon, when you move, okay?” He begs.

I hung up on him.