Hollow's End by Hannibal Adofo

Author:Hannibal Adofo [Adofo, Hannibal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Site To See LLC
Published: 2019-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

10

After many shots of vodka, Vincent was back at his motel. The killing of Anatoly weighed heavy on his heart and mind as the early morning sun rose in the east with the blood-red hue peeking through the blinds.

I had to do it.

I had no other choice.

Vincent paced the room. His mind raced with a jumble of thoughts, thoughts that had plagued him in the past twenty-four hours, in which he hadn’t slept a wink.

He was a scumbag. Probably killed more than one innocent person in his lifetime.

Vincent sighed, pulling at his hair as he wondered how a man such as himself, a man who had killed plenty of people in the line of defense before, was so racked with guilt.

They made me do it.

They forced us to fight.

They forced me to kill that man.

It was self-defense.

Vincent was having a tough time dealing with his new reality, but he continued to tell himself that it was something that needed to be done, and there were far more pressing issues at hand than worrying about some dead brawler.

Vincent retrieved his other burner phone, which he hid under the mattress, and punched in Stone’s number.

He was eager to drop the bombshell on her and Kosinski that someone else other than the infamous Viktor was running the show.

She answered, “Special Agent Stone.”

“It’s me,” Vincent said. “We got a problem.”

“Are you all right?”

Vincent shrugged. “Banged up a little, but I’ll live.”

“What’s going on?”

“I just had a little last-minute meet-and-greet with Viktor.”

“Why? I thought you just saw him.”

“I did. Tonight, I met his boss. A man by the name of Ivan Petrov.”

Vincent thought he could hear her almost choke. “Ivan Petrov?”

“Have you heard of him before?”

A sigh from Stone. “Yeah. We have. His name has popped on and off our radar in the past couple of years. He’s a former KGB spy who worked alongside men like Putin. The only difference between the two of them is that Petrov advertises the fact that he’s a damn mobster instead of lying about it or trying to hide it.”

“Political opinions aside, what does that mean?”

“Can you meet me?”

Vincent weighed the options. “Quickly.”

“Will do. Greyhound station in downtown. One hour. And I’m bringing Kosinski with me.”

“What the hell for?”

“Because Petrov’s name came across my desk a month ago in regards to this case, and the prick said it was nothing to worry about.”

Vincent clenched the phone with a tight grip, not surprised in the slightest by the fact that Kosinski—once again—had lied to him.

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