Chapter 6 - THE NIGHT THE BLUEBIRD BURNED
Mikhail said I was not going.
I told him Benny would die if I stayed.
“Pavel will kill him whether you cooperate or not,” Mikhail said.
“You don’t know that.”
“I know him.”
“You didn’t know him yesterday.”
The words struck him, but I didn’t apologize.
Benny had protected me since I was twelve. He taught me how to balance the register, change a tire and recognize the difference between a drunk customer and a dangerous one.
He had also carried my father’s secrets for seven years.
I was angry with him.
I still loved him.
Both things were true.
Anton spread photographs of the diner across the dining room table.
“The main entrance is blocked. The south wall is unstable. The basement tunnel remains accessible from the municipal building.”
“That’s how we enter,” I said.
Mikhail shook his head.
“It may be trapped.”
“Pavel expects you to attack.”
“He expects me to value the ledger more than Benny.”
“Do you?”
Mikhail’s stare became cold.
“No.”
“Then prove him wrong.”
Misha stood near the staircase with Irina.
His face was pale, but he was listening to every word.
Mikhail noticed him.
“Take Misha upstairs.”
Irina placed a hand on his shoulder.
He pulled away.
“I want to stay.”
“This is not a discussion.”
“You said anger without truth hurts innocent people. Benny is innocent.”
Mikhail closed his eyes briefly.
The boy had learned how to use his father’s own words against him.
I almost felt sorry for Mikhail.
Almost.
He approached his son.
“I am going to bring Benny home.”
“Promise?”
Mikhail hesitated.
I saw the reason.
Men like him understood that promises could become graves.
“I promise I will do everything possible,” he said.
Misha looked disappointed but nodded.
Then he turned to me.
“Bring Nora home too.”
Mikhail’s gaze met mine.
“I will.”
The certainty in his voice frightened me more than doubt.
Anton objected to my plan until I showed him the Union Station key.
“Pavel thinks we have not opened the locker,” I said. “That gives us leverage.”
“We have not opened it,” Anton replied.
“But Pavel doesn’t know whether we did.”
Mikhail understood immediately.
“We give him a false copy of the ledger and tell him the locker contains Elena’s original evidence.”
“And while he checks the key,” I continued, “your men enter through the tunnel.”
“Pavel will search you.”
“I won’t carry the real key.”
“Then he will kill Benny.”
“I’ll carry a duplicate.”
Anton studied the stamped number.
“We can produce one.”
Mikhail leaned over the table.
“You will not stand within reach of Pavel.”
“He asked for me personally.”
“Because he knows you are useful against me.”
“I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours.”
“He believes that is enough.”
“Is it?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Mikhail’s gaze held mine.
Neither of us answered.
Forty minutes later, I stood outside the ruined Bluebird Diner wearing a concealed microphone and a thin protective vest beneath my coat.
Rain had finally stopped.
Smoke drifted from the broken roof.
Mikhail’s men remained hidden throughout the surrounding blocks while he waited inside the municipal tunnel with Anton.
I entered alone carrying a metal case.
Pavel stood near the counter.
Benny knelt beside him, bruised but alive.
“You came,” Benny said.
“Of course I came.”
“Kid, that was not a compliment.”
Pavel smiled.
“He has been very entertaining.”
“Let him go.”
“The ledger.”
I held up the case.
“Benny first.”
Pavel pressed the gun against Benny’s neck.
“Do you imagine this is a negotiation?”
“I imagine you need what’s inside this case more than you need him.”
His eyes sharpened.
Mikhail had warned me never to appear desperate in front of men who fed on fear.
Unfortunately, my knees were shaking.
I hoped the long coat hid it.
Pavel motioned toward one of his men.
He searched me, removed the microphone and crushed it beneath his boot.
The connection to Mikhail went silent.
Pavel watched my reaction.
“You truly believed I would let him listen?”
“I assumed you liked an audience.”
He laughed.
“I understand why Elena chose you.”
“She never met me.”
“She knew Samuel’s daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your father spoke about you constantly. Brave Nora. Stubborn Nora. Nora who would give away her last dollar and then complain when someone thanked her.”
That sounded painfully accurate.
“You knew my father.”
“I offered him a position.”
“You had him killed.”
“He rejected the position.”
Rage surged through me.
“What was he supposed to do?”
“Approve several forgotten properties. Ignore certain renovations. Sign his name.”
“And when he refused?”
“He became inconvenient.”
Benny lunged.
Pavel struck him with the gun.
I stepped forward.
Two men grabbed my arms.
“You’re admitting murder,” I said.
“To whom? Your microphone is gone.”
“People remember.”
“Dead people remember nothing.”
He opened the case.
Inside lay the false ledger, copies of the letters and the duplicate key.
Pavel examined the ledger.
“This is incomplete.”
“The rest is in locker 214.”
“What is inside?”
“Elena’s recordings. Bank documents. Photographs.”
“How do you know?”
“My father left instructions.”
Pavel held up the key.
“You will come with me.”
“That wasn’t the deal.”
“There was no deal.”
A deep metallic bang sounded beneath the floor.
Pavel looked down.
The tunnel team had reached the basement entrance.
One of Pavel’s men shouted a warning.
Gunfire erupted below us.
Pavel grabbed me and placed the gun beneath my jaw.
The front windows exploded inward as Anton’s men entered from the street.
Benny rolled behind the counter.
“Tell Mikhail to stop!” Pavel shouted.
I remained silent.
He pressed the barrel harder.
“Tell him!”
“Mikhail!”
The gunfire stopped.
Mikhail emerged from the basement stairs.
He held no weapon.
Every instinct in his body seemed focused on the gun beneath my jaw.
“Release her,” he said.
Pavel laughed.
“You crossed half the city for a waitress.”
“I own the diner,” I corrected.
Pavel tightened his grip.
“This is why you will lose, Mikhail. Your father understood power. He never allowed affection to interfere with survival.”
“My father died alone.”
“He died respected.”
“He died afraid of you.”
Pavel’s smile disappeared.
Mikhail took another step.
“I know about Detroit,” he said. “The warehouse beneath the freight terminal. The accounts in Luxembourg. The payments to Cole.”
Pavel glanced at the false ledger.
“You are bluffing.”
“Perhaps.”
“You do not know the encryption.”
“Elena used Misha’s birthday.”
Pavel’s expression changed.
That was all the confirmation Mikhail needed.
Anton’s men shifted positions.
Pavel dragged me toward the kitchen.
“If I die, she dies.”
Mikhail stopped.
The old floor creaked beneath my feet.
I remembered every weak board in the diner.
The section beside the grill had rotted years ago. Benny had covered it with a metal mat because we could not afford repairs.
I stepped backward deliberately.
My heel struck the soft board.
I pushed hard.
The wood broke.
Pavel’s leg dropped through the floor.
His grip loosened.
I slammed my elbow into his ribs.
The gun fired.
Pain burned across my side, but the bullet struck the wall.
Mikhail crossed the room before I hit the floor.
He pulled me away while Anton’s men surrounded Pavel.
Pavel threw a small device toward the kitchen.
Benny recognized it first.
“Fire!”
Flames raced across the gasoline-soaked floor.
A second explosion shook the building.
The ceiling began collapsing.
Mikhail lifted me into his arms.
“Benny!” I shouted.
Anton found him behind the counter and dragged him toward the front door.
Pavel disappeared through the broken kitchen wall during the smoke and confusion.
We escaped seconds before the roof collapsed.
Outside, Mikhail lowered me onto the pavement and tore open my coat.
The bullet had grazed my ribs.
Blood soaked the vest, but the wound was shallow.
“You are hurt.”
“I noticed.”
“You could have died.”
“So could Benny.”
“That does not make it acceptable.”
“I didn’t ask permission.”
His hands remained against my sides.
For the first time, he looked angry because he was afraid for me.
The realization unsettled us both.
Benny coughed nearby.
“Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but the ledger is still inside.”
“The real ledger is safe,” Anton said.
“No,” Benny replied.
We turned toward him.
“The ledger you found in the wall was a guide. Samuel kept the original records somewhere nobody searching for evidence would look.”
“Where?” I asked.
Benny pointed toward the burning diner.
“The jukebox.”
I stared at him.
The old jukebox had belonged to my mother. It sat beside booth three and had not played a song in fifteen years.
The wall collapsed inward.
Mikhail’s men tried to stop me, but I ran toward the side entrance.
“Nora!” Mikhail shouted.
Smoke filled the dining room.
The jukebox was burning along one side.
I grabbed the metal service latch and pulled. It would not open.
Benny shouted from outside.
“Kick the bottom panel!”
I struck it twice.
The panel fell away, revealing a steel box.
I dragged it free.
A burning beam crashed behind me.
Mikhail appeared through the smoke, wrapped one arm around my waist and carried me outside while I held the box against my chest.
“You are completely insane,” he said.
“You came after me.”
“That proves my point.”
Firefighters arrived as we opened the steel box.
Inside were two flash drives, twenty photographs and a thick black ledger sealed in plastic.
The first photograph showed Pavel standing beside Detective Cole outside Saint Agnes.
The second showed a shipping container filled with frightened young women.
The third showed my father photographing both men.
The final image showed Elena alive after the car explosion.
She was injured but standing.
The timestamp proved she had survived.
Mikhail stared at her face.
Before anyone could speak, police vehicles surrounded the street.
Detective Cole stepped from the lead car.
His weapon was drawn.
“Mikhail Volkov!” he shouted. “Get on your knees!”
Anton’s men raised their guns.
More officers filled the rooftops.
Mikhail moved in front of me.
Cole held up a warrant.
“You are under arrest for the murder of Alderman Richard Wallace.”
“That is absurd,” Anton said.
Cole smiled.
“The murder weapon was recovered inside Mr. Volkov’s residence.”
Mikhail looked toward the black ledger.
Alderman Wallace’s name appeared on the first page.
Someone had timed the arrest perfectly.
Cole approached with handcuffs.
Mikhail could have ordered his men to fire.
Instead, he looked at Misha, who had arrived in another SUV with Irina.
The boy watched from behind the glass.
Mikhail lowered his weapon.
He allowed Cole to place him in handcuffs.
As the detective led him toward the police car, Mikhail looked back at me.
“Do not trust anyone.”
Cole shoved him into the vehicle.
I held the ledger against my chest.
Then I noticed a white envelope protruding from its final page.
My name was written across the front.
Inside was a photograph of me sleeping in my apartment three nights earlier.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
MIKHAIL WILL DIE IN CUSTODY BEFORE SUNRISE.
