Chau’s second mistake was getting too close.
The baker acted as if he were reaching across the glass case full of sweets to get a better look at the phone, but grabbed a handful of Chau’s forelock instead. Chau was already leaning forward in an effort to intimidate, and the Russian had no trouble slamming his head into the counter, driving it straight through the glass case and into a platter of sugared teacakes.
The MSS man yowled in pain, freezing in place for fear of cutting his own throat on the shards of glass if he jerked away. The baker lifted him straight up, as if he, too, was aware of the dangerous teeth of glass so near Chau’s neck. Instead of letting go, he slammed Chau’s face against the wooden beam beside the till, roaring something in Russian that Chau couldn’t have understood even if he wasn’t getting his face bashed in.
The baker let go suddenly and stepped back, raising his hands.
Chau dabbed at his tattered face, feeling shards of glass. His left eye was swollen shut, but out of his right, he could make out bald-headed Lung pointing his Glock at the baker. A Chinese woman came through the front door, ringing a chime as she entered. She took one look at Chau’s face, covered with blood and powdered sugar, and turned on her heels. A gruff voice carried from beyond a set of heavy curtains that divided the kitchen from the public area.
“Who else is here?” Lung demanded, prodding the air with the muzzle of his pistol.
Before he could answer, a blond man who looked to be a younger and stronger version of the baker shouldered through the curtains carrying a heavy wooden rolling pin like a weapon. A female face peeked out behind him — the girl from the video.
The younger man saw Lung’s pistol and swung the rolling pin.
Lung was quicker than he looked and sidestepped, letting the heavy pin whistle by his head to glance off the shoulder of his non-gun side.
“I will shoot you!” he barked.
The girl pulled her head back from the curtain, vanishing.
“Get her!” Chau screamed.
The younger man dropped his rolling pin but stepped sideways, blocking Lung’s access to the back room.
“State Security!” Lung shouted. He was smart enough to bring the pistol in close, tucked in next to his body so the Russian couldn’t snatch it away.
The baker, seeing Chau’s attention drawn toward the kitchen, lowered his hands and made to vault over the counter. Chau drew his pistol and put a single nine-millimeter round through the man’s neck. The baker stopped cold, one hand still on the wooden support of the counter. His other hand shot to his throat in a vain attempt to stanch the flow of blood. He swayed there for a long moment, opening his mouth as if to speak, and then pitched forward, crashing through the same glass where he’d sent Chau’s face.
The younger man’s mouth fell open. He stared in horror at the dying man. “Papa…”
Chau moved quickly to lock the door and draw the blinds so passersby wouldn’t see what had happened.
The astonished Russian moved to help his father, but Chau leveled the pistol. “Sit down on the floor and cross your legs at the ankles. Hands flat on your knees.” He nodded to Lung. “I have him. Get the girl.”
Lung disappeared behind the curtain.
Chau began to gingerly pick fragments of glass from his face, all the while covering the young Russian with his pistol.
“I thought you were trying to rob us,” the Russian said.
“I seriously doubt that to be the case.”
“What do you want with my sister?”
Chau prodded the air with his gun. “I will ask you the questions.”
“Okay,” the Russian said, all the fight having left him at the sight of his father’s blood.
“What is your name?”
“Ruslan Petrovich,” the Russian whispered. “My father is Peter Nimetov. He was…” His voice trailed off and he began to sniff back tears.
Chau clapped a bloody palm softly against the side of the hand holding the pistol, feigning applause. “You may spare us the performance. If you are not Sluzhba Vneshney Razvedki,” he said, using the full name of Russia’s foreign intelligence service, “then you at least work as their assets.”
Ruslan Petrovich eyed the dead man and gave a slow shake of his head. His words, barely audible at first, grew louder as he spoke. “You are insane. But even if I were SVR, that was still my father you murdered — for nothing but trying to stop you from robbing him.” His eyes locked with Chau, flaming with intensity. “You would be wise to kill me now.”
Chau ignored the threat.
“How did you meet Professor Liu?”
Ruslan shook his head. “Who?”
Chau prodded the air again with his pistol, quickly losing his patience. “The woman you call your sister spent the night at his house two weeks ago. Do not lie. We have her on video.”
Ruslan’s brow shot up, the only indication that he was surprised by this revelation. He took a deep breath. “She is a grown woman. I do not—”
