Page 24 of Shadows of the Past
My response doesn’t seem to satisfy him. His jaw clenches, though he says nothing more.
I examine the weapons, placing my hands on them to see which ones I’m more comfortable with. In the end, I decide on the machine gun and a small pistol that looks like a toy. An obvious weapon and a discreet one. Like my personality. I can be quite loud, but I can also be very reserved.
We start with the small pistol, which I learn is called a Kolibri, and after two hours of training, I’m exhausted.
I feel a headache coming on as I try to memorize every detail Maksim provides. How to distribute my weight on both feet, how to account for the wind outside, whether the target is moving or not.
Out of the ten targets set up, I haven’t hit a single one. Great. I’m a disaster with this gun.
“Take the machine gun.”
Maksim’s voice is firm, so I follow the command without a word. I can tell he’s probably disappointed by how epically I failed to hit a target just fifty feet away.
“Any advice here?” I ask because the gun is much heavier, but somehow I feel more confident with it.
“Yes, don’t aim it at me.”
With that, he signals for me to fire. I let out the breath I’d been holding and squeeze the trigger. The recoil knocks me back nearly six feet as the gun erupts in my hands. Thank God for the ear protection—without it, my eardrums would be toast.
“At least we know which gun suits you.”
I hear Akim’s amused tone and glance more closely at the targets. They’re all riddled with holes. I figure that as long as I aim at whoever pisses me off, there won’t be a problem.
“Let’s do another round, this time without headphones.”
I feel like stomping my foot in frustration because I’m tired, but when I look at my instructor’s eyes, I see a hint of pride there, which makes me lift the machine gun and fire.
Because at some point, I started to care what this man feels about me, and that’s a big fucking problem.
Chapter 12
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Maksim
After the shooting session, I escort Julia back to the room. I plan to let her read some programming materials while I tackle urgent matters that can't wait.
Tomorrow, I’m supposed to head to Dublin for a mission, but Ivan is insisting I visit the new casino in Moscow, recently opened by one of his associates.
I glance at Julia, and once again, a wave of regret washes over me. She’s not Vera. She’ll never be Vera. The thought stings more than I care to admit, and it leaves me feeling worse. Vera knew the danger, knew the monsters that wear smiles in this place. Julia doesn’t.
“What’s the deal with the strangled kids?” Julia asks suddenly, her voice cutting through my thoughts like a blade. A fresh headache begins to form behind my eyes.
That’s the problem; there shouldn’t be strangled kids. Three bodies already, buried without a single lead. It’s a disaster at this point. As if their lives weren’t already cruel enough, there’s something about the way they’re killed that feels even more sinister than what these monsters do within these walls or at auctions. Their deaths are coldly impersonal, and we’re dealing with a serial killer now.
“Someone is luring them outside and strangling or suffocating them,” I explain flatly. “The issue is that there aren’t many cameras in the basement area, for obvious reasons, so we have no idea who’s taking them out.”
I give her the details mechanically while pulling out my phone to check the surveillance footage, hoping that something useful has been captured. I know I should wait until we’re back in the room to do this, but Julia’s question spurred me into action. Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing helpful on the footage.
I watch as a boy, no older than nine, steps out of the basement alone and starts talking to someone. But whoever he’s speaking to remains just out of the camera’s view.
“Someone left the basement door open.”
Julia’s voice pulls my attention back to the moment the boy opens it on the footage. She’s right. The door was left ajar.
I don’t know when she got close enough to see the screen, but oddly enough, her proximity doesn’t bother me. My gaze shifts back to the video, and there it is—someone opened the door. That means they either stole the keys or have access to them. I should dig deeper into this; Vera would’ve turned over every stone to find answers.
Why do I feel like I’m failing her no matter what I do?
