Page 60 of Dark Bratva Christmas
“Adirondacks Cleaning Solutions, how can I help you?” a voice answers, and I swear I almost fall to my knees and praise the heavens.
“Hi, I was wondering if you keep invoices on file,” I say, holding my breath.
“We do, but only for a certain time span. How recent are you looking?”
I don't have an answer for that question. I don't know when the last time Boris was at this cabin, or if he even still owns it. I didn't see it anywhere on his ledgers, so he could have sold it off years ago for all I know.
“Well, I don't have a time span in mind. I'm actually planning on selling the place to someone and they want to know the average upkeep cost, so I figured I'd try and get a hold of my old invoices,” I explain.
“What’s your address?” she asks, and all the excitement I had about progress disappears.
“Oh, hold on just a minute. I don't know it off the top of my head, I think I have a paper around here with it somewhere,” I say, trying to play it off.
“What's your name? Maybe I can find it that way.”
“Boris Petrov,” I promptly say, holding my breath while I wait for any information.
“I've only got two invoices on file, but I can email those over.” I let out the breath and grip my knees tight as I give her my emailaddress, explaining that it's my son-in-law's who's going to print it out for me.
She sends it over, and within moments, the email appears on my phone with a copy of an invoice that just so happens to have the address to the service cabin printed on it.
The most recent invoices are dated almost ten years ago. I have to wonder if Boris might have sold the cabin within those years and this was useless, but this is the only relatively solid lead we have.
I gather everyone in the grand foyer of the Petrov estate and explain what's happening. I don't have time to send a surveillance team four hours away to see if there's activity happening at this cabin.
It's a leap of faith to go out there, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.
***
Boris's cabin is off the road with a long driveway, hidden amidst the trees. I turn off the lights and pull in part way before stopping the car and instructing everyone to get out.
We have to walk from here.
We're all quiet as we approach. The only sound is the faint footfall of boots crunching against snow. But when the cabin isfinally in view, I catch sight of the warm glow of a light beaming through one of the windows.
Bingo. I highly doubt Boris has been renting the cabin out through Airbnb.
The closer we get, I see several cars in the driveway, one of which I recognize as Boris’s. Of course, he's probably here with several of his own men.
We wait outside for only a few minutes to try and gauge what's happening inside. The curtains are all drawn, so I can't see if there's a room Catarina is in or get a good idea about the number of men inside.
“Vse bud'te gotovy(Everyone get ready),” I whisper, crouching down and inching toward the front door, careful not to set off any alarms or motion sensors I spot through the darkness.
When we get to the door, I see no security cameras, no motion sensor lights.Nothing. Up close, it's clear this house hasn't been touched in years. The wood paneling on the outside is rotted, and there are old, dead flowerpots sitting broken by the front door.
I look over my shoulder at Mauricio’s men and nod my head, letting them know I'm moving now. I stand upright and kick the door in.
It gives way more easily than I anticipated, splintering the doorframe as the boom echoes through the cabin. Several guardssitting in a small but comfortable living area all jump to their feet, reaching for the guns at their hips.
They're too slow, as I and five of Mauricio’s men all swarm into the room, firing bullets recklessly at them all. Every guard goes down, and we move toward the commotion happening deeper in the cabin.
We separate so we can cover more ground and keep an eye on anybody planning to flee. Right now, the only thing I'm looking for is Boris.
I kick down every door I come across. A few of them have housemaids cowering in corners, and I leave them alone before moving on to the next. I shoot one guard in the back, not paying him any mind as he crashes to the ground.
The last door I kick in gives way, and a wide-open window sends a gust of snow through the room. I rush over to it and see Boris outside, running away from the cabin.
I jump through the window without sparing a second thought, the cold wind nipping my face. I don't run as I watch my prey fleeing. Boris is slow and old, with bad joints and a gait that doesn't favor him in this fight.
