In the trilogy, The Harry Fingle Collection, Grigoriy Nabutov–a deadly Russian assassin–lets nothing or nobody halt or hinder his relentless pursuit of Harry Fingle.
Here’s a clip from Assassination Continuum, the second book in the trilogy, when Grigoriy discovers two of his mobsters have failed him.
Grigoriy gulped down the rest of the vodka and refilled his glass. He lit up a cigarette and turned to the two men sitting quietly next to him. ‘So, how did you get on with the Lester man?’
The man with the scarred face looked up, and turned to his accomplice. ‘Tell ‘im.’ The accomplice looked scared. He turned to look at Grigoriy.
‘We went to his place, told him you were unhappy, and…’
‘And what?’ Grigoriy barked.
‘’E passed out, fainted or some’ing, fell to the floor.’
Grigoriy dropped his lit cigarette into an ashtray, jumped up, and grabbed the lapels of the scar-faced man’s shirt and dragged him up to a standing position. ‘Imbeciles,’ he shouted, and spat into the man’s face. ‘So you didn’t give him my message, then?’
‘’E was unconscious. We left a note. We couldn’t rouse ‘im, Grigoriy,’ the other man said.
Grigoriy released the man so he flopped back on the sofa. He moved close to the other guy. ‘Stand up, you punk.’ The man jumped up. Grigoriy moved so his face was no more than a few centimetres away from the man’s face. ‘You what?’ he roared. ‘You fucking what? Left a note.’ Grigoriy grabbed the man by the neck and started to throttle him. The man spluttered. His face turned grey. His eyelids flickered.
‘No, Grigoriy. Leave him. Gary Lester has made contact with you.’ Lupe had the laptop open, and was looking at the screen. ‘There’s an e-mail here from him.’
Grigoriy–his hands remaining around the man’s neck–turned and looked at Lupe. ‘What’s it say?’
Lupe picked up the laptop and held it in front of him. ‘It says, ‘‘Sorry, Grigoriy. Here’s my new e-mail address and phone number, Gary.’’’
Grigoriy released the man, who fell back down onto the sofa and spluttered for breath. Grigoriy walked to the front door, checked it was locked, and removed the key. He looked at Lupe and nodded his head to the right, indicating he wanted to talk to him alone. ‘Stay right where you are,’ he said to the two men, and went with Lupe to the small kitchen, adjacent to the room.
‘Are you alright?’ the scar-faced man said to the half-strangled man, who’d stopped coughing, and was sitting up, nursing his swollen neck.
‘Yeah, just about,’ the man replied with a frightened expression. ‘What do yer think they’re talking about?’
‘Don’t know. But I don’t fancy trying anything. ‘E’s a vicious, evil bastard.’
A second later Grigoriy reappeared. He was on his own, and walked towards were the two men sat. He had his right hand held behind his back. They’d turned to face him. He came up close to them, stood still for a split second with his legs slightly apart while he stared at them both, then whipped his hand round from behind him and fired two shots, one into each of their faces. He looked down at the gory mess of their shattered heads, walked around to the front of the sofa, fired another two shots at each of their chests, then reached for the vodka bottle. He wiped off the bloodstains with his hand, took a gulp, put the gun down on the table, and called out to Lupe, ‘Come and get this place cleared up quickly. I’m going to the bedroom to have a sleep. Make sure it’s done when I wake up, and you’ve gone.’