Page 11 of Tom Clancy Line of Sight
The Bulgarian darkened. “But know this: Rhodes must die before I do. Or else.”
The Czech nodded grimly, and what little hope he had drained away. “I understand.”
The death of Rhodes was clear enough. It was the “or else” that truly disturbed him. It was Vasilev’s cryptic promise toreach out from even beyond the grave and slaughter him and everyone he loved if he failed this last assignment.
He feared Vasilev more than any other man he ever knew, living or dead, despite their decades of friendship. His dying boss was the former head of the “Murder Bureau”—the highly secret assassination division within the now defunct Bulgarian Committee for State Security. Vasilev’s talent for killing was surpassed only by his raging vengeance against those who either betrayed or failed him.
Together he and Vasilev had formed the Iron Syndicate at the end of the Cold War, along with several other comrades in other security services in the former Soviet republics, transforming their murderous skills and intelligence resources into a vast criminal network that now included many Western colleagues. Vasilev had led them all from the start, and the Czech was now next in line.
But only if he completed this final assignment.
“And the last man? Do we have a name?” Vasilev asked.
The Czech leaned forward, smiling. “Yes. We learned of it just two days ago.”
“Who is it?”
The Czech told him. Also the man’s employer, and the direct connection to Tervel Zvezdev, Vasilev’s adopted son, butchered and parted out like cat food last year. The Americans found pieces of his massacred body fermenting in a kimchi jar—some sick kind of joke.
No one connected to Zvezdev’s horrific death was laughing now.
Vasilev had made a kill list of those he held responsible for Zvezdev’s death, including the North Korean who was shot by firing squad by his own government on an unrelated matter lessthan a week after Zvezdev was found. The inability to wreak his own vengeance on the Korean enraged Vasilev, and only made the killing of the rest of the list more urgent for him and, consequently, the entire organization. Ten had been disposed of so far. Only two remained. Rhodes, and this last man.
Vasilev’s eyes widened with hope. “And?”
The Czech hesitated, his smile frozen. “We have his place of business, his home, and even his favorite restaurant under constant surveillance.”
“And he’s still alive?” Vasilev suddenly coughed, the first of a long, jagged tear of seal barks and throat rattles as yellow sputum gurgled up out of his cancerous lungs. The Czech helped him sit up as Vasilev’s face reddened, long strings of viscous spittle dribbling from his thick lower lip.
The Czech reached for a plastic tray near the bed and held it up to Vasilev’s mouth, trying not to vomit himself as he watched the old Bulgarian spit up gobs of bloody mucus into the vessel.
The Ghanaian nurse suddenly appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with worry. “Is everything okay—”
“GET OUT!” Vasilev screamed at her as he batted away the plastic tray, scattering the liquid filth across the floor, barely missing her.
“I’ll come back later,” she offered meekly, and dashed back out of the room.
Vasilev gasped for air with the exertion. The Czech gently lowered him back onto his bed, then reached for a tissue to wipe the man’s mouth, but Vasilev pushed his hand away.
“I want him dead,” Vasilev said, his chest heaving. His bloodshot eyes stared vacantly at the far horizon of the trackless sea.
The Czech carefully wiped the sputum from his own hand with the tissue. “The man travels. He could be anywhere—”
Vasilev’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. He was still gasping for breath. “I want his head... in a box... in my hands... before I die.”
“I have our best people on it.”
“Fuck your best people... and fuck you... if you don’t... do this thing.”
“I understand.”
Vasilev grabbed the Czech by the lapel with a liver-spotted hand, pulling him close.
“Do this thing for me... please... I beg you... and then... the Syndicate... is yours.”
“You have my word.”
Hatred narrowed the dying eyes again. He pulled the Czech even closer. “Yes... you will. Or you will suffer for it.”
