“Russians ain’t so bad,” Jack said, relaxed in his chair, one arm hooked over the back. “I had to pick, I’d go with them over the Yakuza any day. Look at those bastards wrong, and it’s permanent retirement time.” He stretched his legs. “Speaking of retirement, I don’t suppose Leon’s retirement plan is up for sale.”

Volkv laughed. “So that’s what you’re after? You got balls, buddy. My advice would be the same I gave to old Leon: buy yourself a lottery ticket instead. Odds of cashing in are a hundred times better.” He leaned forward. “You want the truth? Plan’s not mine to sell. I never asked Leon for the details—my life might not be worth much, but it’s all I got. All I know is that he saw something he shouldn’t have. Someone.”

Jack let Volkv ease back into small talk. Five minutes later, the guard announced our time was up. I made it as far as the parking lot before I let out a growl of frustration.

“Goddamn it! We were so close. A few more minutes…” I took a deep breath, retaking control. “Well, let’s analyze what we’ve got. Kozlov crossed a hitman back in his mob days. As for how he crossed him—”

“He saw him,” Jack said as he opened the car door.

I stopped, fingers grazing the handle, and looked over the roof at him, but he just climbed in and started the engine. As I slid into my seat, he continued, “Kozlov witnessed a hit. Probably the one that got him fired. Didn’t just let his guy get whacked. Saw the hitman. Maybe even recognized him. Been sitting on it all these years.”

“And he called in the marker?”

“Maybe. Or maybe Kozlov wasn’t the only one retiring.”

I frowned over at him as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Gotta clean up before you retire. Clip the loose ends. Otherwise—” He shrugged. “No sense quitting. Always looking over your shoulder.”

I took a moment to unravel this and fill in the missing parts. “You mean that if a hitman wants to retire to a normal life, he needs an exit strategy, to make damned sure there’s nothing, and no one who can finger him?” I twisted to look at him. “Do you think that’s what this guy is doing? Tying up all his loose ends by killing witnesses?”

“Could be.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

TWENTY-NINE

When I rapped on Evelyn’s door, she shouted a muffled welcome. We found her in the living room, tapping away on her keyboard, gaze fixed not on the monitor, but on the TV across the room. Before I could say hello, she gestured for silence and pointed at the television screen.