Blue Moon - Lee Child Page 0,69

again, after months of dental procedures, they seemed very willing to try very hard with the sound of his name’s initial syllable. Although that could have been less than perfect reconstructive work. But eventually Shkumbin got tired of hurting his knuckles, and he took his dead brother’s name, partly as a convenience, and partly as a tribute. Not his elder dead brother’s name, which had been Fatbardh, which meant may he be the fortunate one, which was another beautiful name, but again, hard to use in English. Instead Shkumbin now went by his younger dead brother’s name, which was Jetmir, one who will live a good life, another warm sentiment, and this time easy to say in English, and memorable, quite flashy and futuristic, even if really a traditional blessing, and even if a bit communist-sounding, like a Red Army test pilot in a Soviet comic book, or a hero cosmonaut on a propaganda billboard. Not that Americans seemed to care about that stuff anymore. Ancient history.

Jetmir got to the conference room in back of the lumber yard office and found the rest of the inner council already assembled. Apart from Dino himself, of course. Dino had not been informed. Not yet. It was their second meeting without him. A big step. One meeting might be explained away. To explain two was exponentially harder.

To explain three would be impossible.

Jetmir said, “The missing phone came back on line for almost twenty minutes. It sent nothing and received nothing. Then it went dark again. Like they’re hiding out deep in a basement or something, or an underground cellar, but then they came up to the street, just for a short time, maybe to walk to the corner store and back.”

“Did we get a location?” someone asked.

“We got a pretty good triangulation, but it’s a densely populated area. Every corner has a store. But it’s right where we thought they would be. Close to the center of the shape we marked out.”

“How close?”

“I say we forget the twelve blocks we figured before. We can squeeze it down to the middle four. Maybe the middle six, to be certain.”

“In a basement?”

“Or somewhere there’s no signal.”

“Maybe they took the battery out. And then put it back in.”

“To do what? I told you, they didn’t make or receive a call.”

“OK, a basement.”

“Or a building with a thick iron frame. Somewhere like that. Keep an open mind. Tell everyone to squeeze in tight. Really flood the area. Look for lights behind drapes. Look for cars and pedestrians. Knock on doors and ask questions if necessary.”

* * *

—

At that same moment Jetmir’s opposite number on the other side of Center Street was also in a meeting, also of his inner council, in the room in back of the taxi company, across from the pawn shop, next to the bail bond operation. But in his case his boss was present. Gregory was right there, as always, at the head of the table, presiding. He had called the meeting himself, right after he heard about one of his downtown guys getting stuck up by Aaron Shevick.

He said, “This latest incident feels completely different to me. There was no attempt at deception. He wasn’t expecting us to blame the Albanians for it. It was completely blatant, face to face. Apparently he has been instructed to abandon his earlier tactics. In favor of a new phase. I think a mistake. They have revealed more about themselves than they will discover about us.”

“The phone,” his right-hand man said.

“Precisely,” Gregory said. “Taking the gun was to be expected. Anyone would. But why the instruction to take the phone?”

“It’s a necessary component of their new strategy. They’re going to attempt to inflict electronic damage. To weaken us further. They’re going to try to get inside our operating system through our phones.”

“Who in the whole wide world would have the skills and the experience and the sheer confidence and the deluded arrogance to even hope to succeed with that?”

“Only the Russians,” his right-hand man said.

“Precisely,” Gregory said again. “Their new tactic has revealed their identity. Now we know. The Russians are moving in on us.”

“Not good.”

“I wonder if they took an Albanian phone, too.”

“Probably. The Russians don’t like sharing territory. I’m sure they plan to replace us both. This is going to be very tough. There are a lot of them.”

There was silence for a long moment.

Then Gregory asked, “Can we beat them?”

His right-hand man said, “They won’t get inside our operating system.”

“Not what