Moskva by Christa Wick Read Free Book Online Page A

doctor turned pale over the rough treatment.
    The man was young for his profession, probably mid-thirties. Mishka doubted he had ever been summoned to attend a prisoner just so that the patient could be murdered later by the same thugs. Any work he did for the Rodchenko syndicate in Moscow was likely at the end of the crime -- patching up bullet wounds after gunfights or otherwise saving the lives of killers so they could kill again.
    Osip circled behind Mishka to start cutting on the other half of the shirt.
    "Can't you untie him?" the doctor asked.
    Leaning forward, Osip stuck his craggy face in front of the doctor's, smiled a leering grin and pointed with his bloody blade at the two teeth Mishka had knocked out when they had captured him.
    It had taken eight of them total to subdue Mishka. Osip, Kostya and Arkady were left to guard him while the others were treated for broken ribs, a shattered eye socket and a skull fracture.
    "I don't think so," Osip lisped.
    The doctor bobbed his head, sweat beginning to bead along his upper lip.
    "I'll need--"
    "Hoy!" Arkady interrupted from where he stood by one of the few boarded up windows that offered cell reception. "Does he have a tattoo on his chest?"
    Returning to his sandwich, Osip kicked Kostya where he snoozed on a floor mat.
    "They want to know if he has a tattoo on his chest."
    Kostya wiped at eyes still bleary from the vodka he had consumed the night before. He rolled onto his feet and shuffled to where several jugs of water were lined up. He grabbed one, twisted off the cap and began to splash it on Mishka's chest.
    Looking around, he snatched up the shredded shirt and used it as a wash cloth, dousing the dried blood with more water as he scrubbed.
    "He's got a whole fucking painting!" Kostya bellowed. Leaning close enough that Mishka could have head butted him, the old Russian squinted at the gray and black shaded drawing. "An angel with a spear stepping all over..."
    Hesitating, Kostya poured more water on the tattoo.
    "Stepping all over...uh..."
    "The devil," Mishka offered, Rodchenko's name whispering at the back of his mind.
    "The devil," Kostya repeated.
    "It's him, it's fucking him," Arkady shouted. "He was telling the truth!"
    Osip continued eating his sandwich as if nothing had been said. Kostya sank onto his ass and broke into laughter.
    "I'll be damned."
    Mishka knew the deal was set. His captors intended to sell him to the Grekov family for money and a protected place within their organization. With Dima's reputation as a psychopath, no one on the side of the Grekovs would question the men's motivation for selling out their boss.
    "I may be able to reset this," the doctor said, his fingertips wrapping around Mishka's strong cheekbones while his thumbs pressed softly at the sides of the captive's broken nose.
    "Don't," Mishka growled. After he had finally spit and snorted out or swallowed down most of the blood-filled mucus, he found he could breathe without difficulty. Resetting his nose would only bring more blood and fresh pain to cloud his mind while he worked on escaping.
    The doctor dropped his hands to trace the lines of Mishka's ribcage. Another growl and the swollen and bruised flesh confirmed a potentially cracked rib.
    Grabbing a roll of elastic bandaging, the doctor began to weave a compression wrap around Mishka's chest and back where the rib was injured. Each time he wound the roll to the front, he had to dip close to Mishka's ear.
    "I have a pill," he whispered, rolled some more and whispered again. "It will wipe out your pain -- forever."
    "No," Mishka answered, his voice just as low.
    Finished with the wrap, the doctor turned at last to the swollen right eye.
    "Can you follow my finger."
    Wincing, Mishka forced the eye to track toward his broken nose then back to center.
    "Well, I don't think the retina is detached, yet," the doctor said. "But if the swelling doesn't go down, you could lose your sight in that eye."
    Osip grunted a laugh, its