Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) (27 page)

He reached the pay phone booth and
rammed a coin in the slot. He breathed vehemently as the line
buzzed in his ear.

“
You’ve reached news
station Nova TV 10, this is Erika Stankova speaking. How can I help
you?”

“
I—” The words were
painfully lodged in Nikolai’s throat. And the same pesky teenager
was orbiting the phone booth.

“
Hey, can you lend me some
money?” One venomous glare from Nikolai sent him scurrying into the
alleys.

“
Excuse me, is anyone
there?” Erika asked. Nikolai struggled to force the words past his
tongue. What if this call was somehow traced back to him? Was that
man across the street watching him? A squad car slowly rumbled past
the booth, closely tailing a driver. No matter, this was the only
course of action available to him now.

“
A bomb will detonate
within the Nova TV 10 office in the next ten minutes. Get out while
you still can.” He slammed the receiver on the hook, feeling his
stomach knot.

The streets pulsed like a cyber night
club as blue and red lights doused the city. Hundreds of Nova TV 10
employees spilled into the streets in a tidal wave of terror.
Within minutes, the bomb squad was trawling the streets and being
jerked along by bomb-sniffing hounds. Adjacent buildings had been
emptied as a precautionary measure, including the Prague City
Council.

In the midst of the orgiastic chaos, a
lone figure slipped through the fray.

Martin Slavik kept a close eye on Nova
TV 10 headquarters, expecting glass to erupt from the windows in a
blossom of fire. The room where he had once been sitting in with
all those fancy video cameras would be incinerated in a flash. Not
even a tremor rippled through the building. He was slightly
disappointed.

Martin shrugged and wandered several
blocks before hailing a taxi.

“
12 Nezamyslova,” he
murmured as he sidled into the seat. He rolled down the window a
crack to expel the stench of cigarettes and sex. The glossy street
passed by in a red and yellow hue for the next ten minutes. He
barely even glanced at the taxi meter as it ticked toward 200 Czech
crowns.

He couldn’t shake the
feeling that the bomb threat had been intended for him. Someone had
called it in
minutes before he was set to
reveal intimate details of the investigation on live TV. Had the
serial killer himself commissioned such a brazen threat?

Martin allowed himself to close his
eyes just for a second, sedated by the view. Maybe he would opt for
an interview with the newspaper instead. That first bite of fame is
always so addictive.

“
We’re being followed.”
Martin perked up at the sound of the taxi driver’s voice. He
squinted through the back window into the hazy night. Sure enough,
a pair of headlights floated down the road.

“
Turn right,” he barked.
The tires spun as the taxi swung around the bend. Martin’s pupils
dilated when those familiar headlights cropped up on the horizon.
Maybe it was just a motorist who happened to be going the same way.
There was no need for Martin’s heart to beat this fast.

“
Turn left when possible.”
The driver did so without question, and they pulled onto a remote
country road. They rocked over a cobbled bridge, and for a moment,
Martin sighed in relief.

The headlights stalked them around the
turn. No, this wasn’t any mere coincidence. Martin’s hand
instinctively fell to the gun by his side.

“
Pull over.”

“
What do you mean
pull over
—?” A wad of bank
notes flashed before the driver’s eyes, and suddenly those
misunderstandings were dispelled.

“
Pull over near a ditch if
possible.” Catching his drift, the driver swallowed his misgivings
and stuffed the money in his pocket. They continued for a few more
miles down the murky stretch of road as Martin pondered the lurker.
He almost didn’t realize the taxi had grinded to a stop.

He sucked in a deep breath when he saw
the submachine gun in the driver’s hand.

“
I served in the Gulf War,”
the man said in a strong accent, offering the weapon. Martin smiled
at the generous offer and pulled out his own gun.

“
I couldn’t betray my
Silvia like that,” he said, affectionately cocking the hammer on
his pistol. He kicked open the taxi door and sauntered onto the
streets. The door popped open to the stalker’s vehicle and a
silhouette emerged. His jacket fluttered in the slashing
wind.

“
Martin Slavik, former
police officer with dishonorable discharge,” the voice said. Martin
tried to peer through the blinding headlights, but the man’s
identity remained ambiguous. “Two months have passed since we’ve
come face to face. Unfortunately, it hasn’t been long enough to
forget what you’ve done.”

A disturbing scenario played out with
crystalline detail in Martin’s head. His face had been televised
across Prague shortly before a bomb threat was called in. Perhaps
someone he arrested saw him on TV and seized the opportunity
dangling before him. Who else would know about his less than
reputable past?

“
I may be an ex-cop but my
trigger finger hasn’t lost its touch.”

“
I would be disappointed if
it did.”

“
Who the hell are you?” The
silhouette stepped forward until the red brake lights of the taxi
illuminated his face. “Nikolai?” he gasped.

“
What the hell is wrong
with you?”

“
Excuse me?” Nikolai jabbed
a finger in his face and growled:

“
Is it not enough that your
stupidity cost one woman her life? Now you want to do the same
thing to more?”

“
What are you talking
about?!”

“
Your interview on TV!”
Nikolai snapped. “What are you trying to prove by going on the air
and spewing lies?!”

“
Lies? I’m giving them the
truth—”

“
You know nothing about
what’s going on!”

“
I know Josef Láska is
concealing this threat, and he’s making a mockery of everything you
and I used to stand for. What are you so afraid of?”

“
We don’t want public
hysteria and we certainly don’t need the media harassing us for
information. I’m trying to quietly handle this investigation
without turning it into a feeding frenzy. The last thing I need is
24-hour hype about a freak hunting down women in the dead of night.
I already have a BIS agent shadowing my every move, just waiting
for me to slip up. Next thing you know, they’ll drag the Office of
Foreign Relations and Information into this mess over an imaginary
sex ring! We’ll have agents flooding Prague, eating up our
resources while they’re chasing human traffickers who don’t even
exist—”

“
Nikolai, the Office of
Foreign Relations and Information investigates terrorist threats,
not sex rings.”

For a moment, Nikolai looked at a loss
for words, caught in his tangled web of hyperbole.

“
You’re afraid of losing
jurisdiction, aren’t you?” Martin smiled. “All your hard work will
slip through the cracks and someone else will bask in the
glory.”

“
Maybe glory matters to
you, but I don’t much give a damn. You have no idea know how much
the investigation has evolved since your dismissal. You aren’t
relevant anymore.”

“
I know enough to scare you
out of your musty office. You’re responsible for that bomb threat,
aren’t you?” The accusation rolled imperviously off
Nikolai.

“
What will it take to shut
you up?”

“
Since my termination, I’ve
been struggling to find decent employment. You can imagine how a
police officer with a dishonorable discharge might raise a few
eyebrows during interviews. I haven’t exactly received a call back
yet.”

“
It’s your own fault for
whipping out your gun and putting a bullet in the hostage.” Martin
batted aside the jab with a flick of his wrist.

“
The media came to me. I
didn’t solicit them asking for an interview. They offered a hefty
sum for information related to the disappearances.”

“
Who asked you to give this
interview?” he fumed. Martin swelled, feeling once more in control,
privy to information Nikolai didn’t possess.

“
Camilla Vesely.” Nikolai
only stared into space, not about to reveal any emotion in front of
Martin. “I’ll pay you off to keep silent.”

“
Really? Nikolai will
descend from grace to buy my silence? Isn’t that
amusing…”

“
This isn’t a game you’re
playing, Martin. We’ve seen what happens when the media runs with a
story like this. They regurgitate it as some sick form of
entertainment, feeding society’s fascination with murder. Before
you know it, another sadist wants to stand in the spotlight and the
same freakish murders suddenly manifest. I don’t want any copycats.
Do you?”

“
The public will find out
sooner or later what’s happening to their daughters.”

“
Not today. And not
tomorrow.”

“
This investigation is a
bomb waiting to go off,” Martin teased. “And it’s going to blow up
in your face sooner or later.”

He bit back his next remark as Nikolai
thrust a piece of paper in his direction.

“
What’s this?”

“
The killer’s address. I’m
heading there tomorrow night. Once you see what we found inside, I
think you’ll be persuaded to keep quiet.”

Martin regarded it for a moment before
swiping it from Nikolai’s fingers.

“
Fine. I’ll be there. Now,
I have a taxi waiting for me.”

Martin trudged back to the vehicle,
slamming the door shut behind him. Nikolai watched as the brake
lights streaked into oblivion, mulling the uncertain turn of
events.

“
I’ll be expecting
you.”

* * *

Camilla sat staring at her computer,
waiting for the words to flow from her fingertips. No matter how
hard she racked her brain, she couldn’t stop thinking about last
night.

Vivian had vanished since their
argument, just like the many women who fell into Viktor’s clutches.
She prayed Vivian was still walking the streets somewhere, trying
to salvage her future. Maybe she managed to hitch a train far from
Prague.

The blank screen hummed in front of
Camilla, mocking her as she grappled for inspiration. She glanced
at the telephone, almost afraid to hear it ring. What if she
received a call about a sixth woman who faded from the city
streets? She could imagine it now…

The body of a young Asian
woman with luscious, red hair was found on the city outskirts,
naked and mutilated. The words “you cannot hurt me anymore” were
carved into her belly, just above a peculiar hourglass-shaped
birthmark…

Camilla snapped to attention as her
boss swept through the door.

“
Something for you,
Camilla.” He tossed the letter on her desk, and Camilla pounced
like a cat teased with a ball of yarn.

She poured the letter out of the
envelope, wondering whether it contained stinging scorn or praise
for her recent editorial. No doubt she ruffled a few feathers with
her criticism of the police’s handling of the investigation.
Regardless of which tone the letter adopted, she felt ecstatic just
knowing someone read her work.

She scanned the letter and read it
again, feeling her heart batter her ribs.

Dear Ms.
Vesely,

If you value your career,
stay away from the Krista LaCroix investigation.

Camilla let the letter slip through
her fingers. Swallowing her fear, she knitted her eyebrows in a
fierce scowl.

“
Is that so?” she
growled.

She instantly realized her boss was
watching her.

“
Something to add to your
fan club mail?”

“
Yeah… Just another creepy
guy asking me to have dinner with him.”

“
Wouldn’t you know? I have
coupons for that new restaurant just down the street! Maybe you
should give the sorry fellow a shot and tell us all about the
horror stories in your next editorial.”

“
Not likely.”

She turned the letter over, not
surprised to find it lacking an address. She was accustomed to
receiving letters from lunatics raving about conspiracy theories or
the Antichrist, but she had never received threats. She buried her
face in her hands, wondering what had become of Martin
Slavik.

How did the police learn she goaded
him into giving an interview on TV?

Martin had become a prized asset since
his dishonorable discharge, divulging the details of local gangs,
crime syndicates, and cold cases. He seemed to thrive on the
attention of an attractive woman. Oddly enough, he refused to
comment on the nature of the vanishings around Prague, no matter
how sweet her voice sounded or how high she hiked her
skirt.

It seemed there were even some things
that could unnerve Martin.