The Spy Devils by Joe Goldberg (top rated books of all time .TXT) 📕

Bridger looked directly back at Ira, then Bondar. Discomfort radiated from their bodies at the news of Pavlo’s defection.

“So, I pose the question. Who killed Beast? My list has grown short. All that remains,” his face turned malevolent, “is the Bondar family. I am going to cross Olek off the list. The only thing he kills is his own brain cells.” Chuckle and smile. “That leaves Ira and you, Viktor.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Bondar said defiantly. “I want you out of here.”

“As you might suspect, I have given this some thought.” Bridger sat forward with his gaze fixed on Bondar’s unblinking eyes. The silence lasted for five, then ten, then fifteen seconds. A clock clicked time as the tension grew. Bridger’s stare went uninterrupted. Finally, he spoke. “No. No, I don’t think you know anything.”

Bridger turned to look at Ira with eyes that conveyed one meaning—vengeance.

54

You are a Liar

Kyiv, Ukraine

“Do not look at me. I have no idea, either,” Ira said matter-of-factly, as she clicked the red paint off her left index finger with her right thumb.

Bridger looked back at Bondar, then back to Ira.

“Oh, Ira…and I thought we were friends. At least business partners. I thought we had a deal. Should I tell your father about our last conversation?” Her face went pale, then flashed to red as he kept his eyes on Ira. “You see, Viktor, your daughter and I have met before, did you know that? Just a few days ago in Pavlo’s room in the basement of your bank. Ira was kind enough to let us in—unharmed I might add. We had a brief but worthwhile conversation.” His eyes shot to Bondar, looking for a reaction. “I enjoyed it.”

Bondar looked at Ira. Bridger wondered if she was too terrified to talk. He could sense the waves of panic emitting from her. Her complexion was flusher than a poker hand.

“We discussed—,” Bridger started as he looked over at Ira, “—you. It seems that she is not happy with you, Viktor, about anything. Family. Business. But she is quite riled about the killing of a man named Uncle Anton.” He turned back to Bondar. “Does that name mean anything to you?”

“What—” Bondar started.

“What were we supposed to do? She asked me to leak some very unsettling information about you. Arms dealing. Extortion. Bribery. Blackmail. Murder. An impressive list. Did I forget anything, Ira?”

“I have no idea what he is talking about. He is a liar.”

“Is that right?” Bondar asked. It was a question from a cold, iron-fisted businessman. Not a father.

“No, he is a liar.” It was the voice of someone feeling real fear for the first time.

“Well, she gave me the case from Kirkwood as payment. Did you know that Viktor? We went through all this effort to get it, and Ira just hands it to us. I hope you didn’t have plans for it. I sort of blew it up, the reason for my sore arm here, but we don’t have time to rehash that story.” Chuckle and smile. “What should I do with the information you gave me, Ira?” He pointed. “Viktor, you will find copies in the folder in front of you. I hope you don’t mind. I am keeping the originals.”

Bondar hesitated, opened it, and flipped through the contents. Every few pages, he would glance up at Ira or Bridger. When he was done, he closed the folder and sat back.

“It isn’t true, father.” It was the voice of a scared daughter.

Bondar answered with a face chiseled tight in disappointment. He stood and walked around the desk.

“You want to get rid of your father so desperately you asked him?” He balled his hand into fists again and shook them at her. “You think you can run my businesses better than I can? You should be grateful for all I have given you and your worthless brother.”

Ira exploded off the couch. Her robe fell open, exposing a small white lace nightgown. She stormed across the room to within a few feet of her father.

“You are the worthless one for what you did to Olek! You abandoned him to rot in a jail in Cyprus.”

“What are you talking about? I did nothing to him in Cyprus—”

“Um. Excuse me,” Bridger interrupted. “Let me clarify this point. For the sake of our mission, we took the liberty of pretending to be you, Viktor. Olek was a little confused. It is technical stuff. I don’t understand it, but it was effective. I am sorry if it caused any bad feelings.”

“What? It wasn’t father?” Olek stammered.

“Nope.” Bridger shrugged and raised his eyebrows at Demon. “Guess it worked.” Demon nodded.

Bondar grabbed Ira tightly by the arm above the elbow and pulled her close till her face was an inch from his.

“What were you thinking?” Saliva landed on her face. He pushed her away. “I would have respected you more if you had just shot me. That at least has some honor. Show some guts. It is how I lived my life. Kill or be killed. I am a killer.”

“You killed Anton,” she screamed at him.

Bondar was silent. He took his time walking back to his desk chair. He sat, crossed his arms across his silk pajamas, and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Silence packed the room, except for the clock ticking in the corner like a time bomb.

“You,” Ira turned to Bridger—her rage reappearing, “you did all this.” She tried to hit him, but he grabbed her arm and wrenched it outward, then down in a ninety-degree angle. She grunted in pain as she bent over to relieve the stress in her elbow.

“So if I plot this right, you had Beast killed just before our meeting? Am I correct?”

“No.” She forced the word out through clenched teeth.

Bridger flinched in actual surprise. He let go of her arm. She stood and rubbed her elbow in relief.

“Care to explain that?”

“I didn’t have him killed. I killed your man,