The First Name
1177 Words
Cole woke before dawn. The list was on the nightstand. He had memorized the first ten names before sleep finally took him. Now they burned behind his eyes.
He dressed in the dark. Walked downstairs. The farmhouse was silent. Everyone else was asleep.
He made coffee. Sat at the table. Opened the leather-bound book.
Name: Marcus Webb. He had already handled Webb. The man was in custody, testifying for the FBI.
Name: Elsa Vance. David's mother. She had helped them. She wasn't a target.
Name: Dimitri Volkov. Russian. Arms dealer. Funded the Consortium's weapons purchases. Last known location: Odessa, Ukraine.
Cole circled Volkov's name. He would be the first.
Kane arrived at 7 AM. Cole was on the porch. Coffee cold in his hands.
“You're up early.”
“Couldn't sleep.”
Kane sat beside him. “Who's first?”
“Volkov. Odessa.”
“That's dangerous. He has private security. Dozens of men.”
“Then we need more men.”
Kane nodded. “I know a team. Former Spetsnaz. They're loyal to money, not causes.”
“Can we trust them?”
“We can trust them to do the job. After that, we watch our backs.”
Cole stood. “Make the calls. I want to leave tomorrow.”
---
The day was tense. Cole told Evelyn he was leaving. She didn't argue. Just hugged him longer than usual.
Clark wanted to come. Cole said no. Someone had to protect the family.
David offered to help. Cole accepted. David knew Volkov. Had met him once, with his mother.
“He's paranoid,” David said. “He changes houses every week. Never sleeps in the same place twice.”
“Then we find his pattern.”
“I don't know his pattern. But I know someone who might.”
“Who?”
“His mistress. A woman named Katya. She lives in Odessa. He visits her every Tuesday.”
Cole looked at the calendar. Today was Monday.
“Then we go tomorrow. We watch. We wait. We strike.”
---
The plane landed in Odessa at 3 PM. The sky was gray. The air was cold.
Kane's team was waiting at the airport. Four men. Hard faces. Russian accents.
“This is Sergei,” Kane said. “He'll lead the team.”
Sergei shook Cole's hand. His grip was iron.
“Mr. Mathers. We know why you're here. Volkov is a bad man. Many people want him dead.”
“I don't want him dead. I want him in custody.”
Sergei's face showed nothing. “That's more difficult. But possible.”
They drove to a safe house. A small apartment in the old city.
David had a photograph of Katya. Blonde. Young. Expensive clothes.
“She lives in this building,” David said, pointing to a map. “Volkov visits on Tuesdays. Usually around 8 PM. He stays for two hours. Then leaves.”
“Security?”
“Two guards outside the building. Two more in the lobby. Two in the hallway outside her apartment.”
“That's six. Plus Volkov's personal bodyguard.”
“Seven.”
Cole looked at the map. The building was old. Narrow streets. Fire escapes.
“We go in through the roof. Down the fire escape. Through her window.”
Sergei shook his head. “Too risky. He'll have alarms on the windows.”
“Then we go through the door. Fast. Quiet.”
“How?”
Cole pointed to the lobby. “Your team takes the guards. David and I take the stairs. Kane covers the exits.”
Sergei was quiet. Then he nodded. “It could work.”
---
Tuesday came. The team moved into position at 7 PM.
Cole watched the building from a café across the street. David sat beside him. Kane was in a van around the corner.
At 7:55, a black SUV pulled up. Volkov got out. Tall. Broad. Expensive coat.
Two guards flanked him. They walked inside.
Cole waited. Gave them time to reach the apartment.
At 8:10, he stood. “Let's go.”
They crossed the street. Entered the lobby.
The two guards were at the desk. Sergei's team took them silently. No shots. No noise.
Cole and David took the stairs. Fourth floor. The hallway was empty.
Two guards stood outside the apartment door. Sergei's team took them. Same silence.
Cole nodded to David. David knocked.
A voice inside. “Who is it?”
“Maintenance. Water leak in the apartment below.”
The door opened. A guard stood there. Cole pushed inside.
Volkov was on the couch. Katya beside him. His bodyguard reached for his gun.
David was faster. The bodyguard fell.
Volkov stood. His face was pale.
“You're Cole Mathers.”
“I am.”
“You're a dead man.”
“Not today.”
Cole pulled out his pistol. “You're coming with us.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I leave you here. And I give your name to your enemies. The ones who want you dead more than I do.”
Volkov looked at the gun. At his guards. At Katya.
“What do you want?”
“Information. About the Consortium. About the people who funded it.”
“And if I give it to you?”
“You go to prison. In the United States. Where you'll be safe from your enemies.”
Volkov laughed. It was bitter. “Prison is not safe.”
“Safer than here.”
Volkov was quiet. The clock ticked.
“I'll go with you. But I want witness protection. New identity. New life.”
“I can't promise that. But I can promise you won't be killed by my hand.”
Volkov nodded. “Then let's go.”
---
They left the apartment. The stairs. The lobby. The street.
The black SUV was still there. Cole put Volkov in the back. David sat beside him.
Kane drove. The team followed in another car.
The airport was dark. The plane was waiting.
Volkov looked out the window. “I never thought it would end like this.”
“How did you think it would end?”
“In a firefight. Bullets. Blood. Not like this. Not quiet.”
Cole looked at the man. The arms dealer. The killer.
“This is better.”
“For who?”
“For everyone.”
They boarded the plane. Volkov was handcuffed to his seat.
Cole sat across from him. “Start talking.”
Volkov talked. For hours. Names. Dates. Transactions. He gave them everything.
Kane recorded every word.
When they landed in Virginia, the FBI was waiting. Volkov was taken into custody.
Cole watched him go. Felt nothing.
---
The farmhouse was dark. Everyone was asleep.
Cole sat on the porch. The stars were bright.
His phone buzzed. A text.
“One down. Dozens to go. Keep fighting. —A Friend”
Cole deleted the text. Walked inside.
He looked at the list. Crossed off Volkov's name.
There were still thirty-seven names left.
The war continued.
- Writer
