Page 2 of Deadly Hacker

“Your services are required. Luka has a situation.”

“What didhedo?”

“His girlfriend’s parents were attacked at their home—in one ofourneighborhoods. Her father is missing, and her mother is in the hospital. Luka and Kira are at her side now.”

“Shit,” Rad hissed. “And you want me to help our cops figure it out. Is this a gun or laptop situation?”

“The latter. For now.”

“I always bring both anyway,” said Rad. “I’ll be there right after I close this deal.”

“No time for that, Rad. We’ll revisit the deal later,” Mikhail commanded.

“You got it,” Rad sighed.

He hung up the phone and walked back to the counter. “My apologies, big guy, but I have a bit of a business crisis on my hands across town. What do you say we pick up this chat later this afternoon?” he said, already slapping down a massive tip for the bartender.

“Oh, uh, sure thing. I’ll be here,” said the owner, wiping his hands on his shirt before going in for a handshake.

But Rad was already halfway out the door, giving one last glance to the dancers on stage, each of whom looked visibly disappointed by his exit. He fed their spirits with one roguish wink and pushed out into the Nevada sunshine. He didn’t know those women, but he’d felt their eyes from across the room the whole time he was at the strip club. He knew it was only the presence of their boss at the bar counter that kept them from swarming around him as usual. Rad was accustomed to that kind of treatment; everywhere he went, women noticed.

He slid into his black sports car and zoomed several blocks away to a police station near downtown Vegas. He stepped out onto the pavement, pushing his shades up onto his head.

He strode into the police station with his laptop under his arm and his gun tucked safely at his waist. The cop at the entrance recognized him and let him through without question. Rad nodded to the overworked secretary, who stood up and gestured to a small room down the left hallway.

Rad slinked through the busy police station and into the private room. With his boyish good looks, charm, and American accent, he could blend in with the world around him even more easily than many of his fellow Bratva members could. He even smiled and gave brief hellos to officers, administrators, and civilians who walked by. Few recognized him beyond those who were required to be in the know, but Rad counted one familiar face after another as he made his way to the private room. And not one of them tried to stop him.

Rad closed the door behind him, shutting out the ringing phone lines and endless paper shuffling of the department. Here he found two police officers hunched around a computer screen surrounded by file cabinets. They swiveled around when they heard the door shut.

“Finley! Welch!” he greeted them, with the cadence of an old friend.

“Uh, sir, I don’t recall meeting you,” said the older one with a bristly dark mustache.

“Oh, we’ve never met. But I make a habit of acquainting myself with every member of our little family,” Rad said. He tapped on Welch’s police badge with his knuckles. “Even the moredistantrelatives.”

He stepped past them to the computer desk and began clearing a place for his laptop.

He continued, “Officer Welch, we recruited you from a local community college once you became a low-grade threat to our own extracurricular activities in that area. We gave you the option of being a cop on our payroll or a pawn out on our streets. You chose cop. Congratulations on six months on the force.”

Welch blanched. “How do you…?”

“Officer Finley, you’ve been on the force for about two and a half years, but you’ve been one of ours since you worked the door at one of our casinos a year before you were instated,” Rad went on, logging into his specially designed hacking software while the officers gawked.

“Who are you?” Welch asked.

“My name is Rad. Your boss sent me, and I’m not talking about the chief of police. So, tell me about your assault and kidnapping case.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Finley answered, “The victims are Sonja and Stepan Rudavin. Their daughter is a young woman named Kira, who—”

“Worked at the Shining Star as a cocktail waitress. She’s my colleague Luka’s current fixation. Nice girl, seems like,” Rad interjected. “When did this happen?”

“This morning. Mrs. Rudavin is at the hospital with a head injury,” said Welch.

“Mr. Antonov and Kira are with her there, last I knew,” Finley added. “We have the scene blocked off with tape and an officer stationed there to preserve evidence.”

“And we’ve been rewatching this damn footage ever since,” Welch sighed.

“Footage. Fantastic. What’ve you got?” Rad asked, sliding into the swivel chair and examining the cops’ computer screen.

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