Tovmas said, eyeing along the gun sight, judging where the testicles were.
“Ok, ok! I’ll tell! ” The auctioneer caved. “There were three buyers the day the Armenians were auctioned: some Russians, Iranians and a Baku business. The Iranians only purchased one, probably a concubine for their boss. The city business bought two for a harem, and the Russians bought the rest to sell elsewhere.”
“We need names. ”
“I don’t know the Iranians or the Azeris, but I spoke to the Russians after the auction. They stayed at the bar for a time. I caught one of their names...,” he paused, mumbling to himself, “Koy...Kroy....Kroikov. Koikov.”
“Koikov. You’re sure?”
“Yes. He was distinctive looking, long leather jacket, silver shoulders. Scar on his cheek.”
“Which side?”
“I can’t remember.”
Tovmas r aised the pistol. “Which side?”
“I can’t remember! Please! I’m telling the truth!” The man held his free arm out, shielding his face.
“I believe him,” said Nardos. “Did Koikov have an aircraft?”
“ Probably, most of our clients do. His will be big; he seemed to have a big crew, along with the nine slaves.”
“Is he still in Sederek?”
“I do not know, maybe. It could be that he wants to buy more slaves.”
Nard os thought for a second. Tovmas said, “And what about the other buyers? The Iranians, and the locals?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the Iranians. The Azeri business is the Paradise Harem, in Baku. That’s all I know, I don’t even have an address.”
“Well, if that’s all you know, we no longer have a use for you.” Tovmas switched off the pistol’s safety catch with a metallic click.
“No, please! You said I would live if I helped you!” begged the auctioneer. His eyes were wide with terror. The blood from his nose had matted his moustache. Aiden felt sorry for the old man pleading for his life. It was like watching the skinny man dragged from his house in Zovashen, all over again.
“Lads, come on!” Aiden interjected. “We have to go before somebody checks up on him. The auction is supposed to start soon.”
“But I haven’t decided what to do with this piece of shit,” replied Tovmas, toying with the pistol.
“If you shoot him, someone will hear. Not a good plan.”
Tovmas looked irritated. He said something in Armenian to Nardos, who replied in a calm tone ; quiet, but stern. They had a short argument. Finally, Tovmas lowered the pistol. Aiden allowed himself to exhale. Maybe they’d get out of there without killing anybody. That’d be nice. “Find something to tie him with, we can’t just let him go running to the guards,” he said.
Tovmas stooped down and took the auctioneer’s belt. Nardos covered the man’s mouth once more, and pinned his arms with his knees. Then Tovmas knelt down next to the man, wrapped the belt around his neck, slipped the end through the buckle and wrenched it as hard as he could. The auctioneer went purple, his mouth gawping like a fish as he fought for a breath. His legs thrashed wildly, but Nardos kept him down. Gradually, the man was dying under Tovmas’ iron grip. He yanked the belt just a little tighter, and the man finally went limp. His chest was still and his eyes were closed. Tovmas let the belt fall.
“The hell did you do that for?” cried Aiden, aghast.
“He could have identified us,” replied Tovmas. Nardos nodded. Aiden shook his head. He couldn’t quite believe it was happening again. A wave of nausea tightened his throat. Cold-blooded killing. More cold-blooded killing.
The three men slipped back out into the corridor. Aiden locked the door behind them. They were heading for the fire exit when the door back at the other end of the corridor opened, and a suited man came through from the auction floor. He spotted the three men and shouted a challenge. He was just reaching inside his jacket when Tovmas shot him twice, the shots ear-splittingly loud and echoing in the narrow
“Ok, ok! I’ll tell! ” The auctioneer caved. “There were three buyers the day the Armenians were auctioned: some Russians, Iranians and a Baku business. The Iranians only purchased one, probably a concubine for their boss. The city business bought two for a harem, and the Russians bought the rest to sell elsewhere.”
“We need names. ”
“I don’t know the Iranians or the Azeris, but I spoke to the Russians after the auction. They stayed at the bar for a time. I caught one of their names...,” he paused, mumbling to himself, “Koy...Kroy....Kroikov. Koikov.”
“Koikov. You’re sure?”
“Yes. He was distinctive looking, long leather jacket, silver shoulders. Scar on his cheek.”
“Which side?”
“I can’t remember.”
Tovmas r aised the pistol. “Which side?”
“I can’t remember! Please! I’m telling the truth!” The man held his free arm out, shielding his face.
“I believe him,” said Nardos. “Did Koikov have an aircraft?”
“ Probably, most of our clients do. His will be big; he seemed to have a big crew, along with the nine slaves.”
“Is he still in Sederek?”
“I do not know, maybe. It could be that he wants to buy more slaves.”
Nard os thought for a second. Tovmas said, “And what about the other buyers? The Iranians, and the locals?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the Iranians. The Azeri business is the Paradise Harem, in Baku. That’s all I know, I don’t even have an address.”
“Well, if that’s all you know, we no longer have a use for you.” Tovmas switched off the pistol’s safety catch with a metallic click.
“No, please! You said I would live if I helped you!” begged the auctioneer. His eyes were wide with terror. The blood from his nose had matted his moustache. Aiden felt sorry for the old man pleading for his life. It was like watching the skinny man dragged from his house in Zovashen, all over again.
“Lads, come on!” Aiden interjected. “We have to go before somebody checks up on him. The auction is supposed to start soon.”
“But I haven’t decided what to do with this piece of shit,” replied Tovmas, toying with the pistol.
“If you shoot him, someone will hear. Not a good plan.”
Tovmas looked irritated. He said something in Armenian to Nardos, who replied in a calm tone ; quiet, but stern. They had a short argument. Finally, Tovmas lowered the pistol. Aiden allowed himself to exhale. Maybe they’d get out of there without killing anybody. That’d be nice. “Find something to tie him with, we can’t just let him go running to the guards,” he said.
Tovmas stooped down and took the auctioneer’s belt. Nardos covered the man’s mouth once more, and pinned his arms with his knees. Then Tovmas knelt down next to the man, wrapped the belt around his neck, slipped the end through the buckle and wrenched it as hard as he could. The auctioneer went purple, his mouth gawping like a fish as he fought for a breath. His legs thrashed wildly, but Nardos kept him down. Gradually, the man was dying under Tovmas’ iron grip. He yanked the belt just a little tighter, and the man finally went limp. His chest was still and his eyes were closed. Tovmas let the belt fall.
“The hell did you do that for?” cried Aiden, aghast.
“He could have identified us,” replied Tovmas. Nardos nodded. Aiden shook his head. He couldn’t quite believe it was happening again. A wave of nausea tightened his throat. Cold-blooded killing. More cold-blooded killing.
The three men slipped back out into the corridor. Aiden locked the door behind them. They were heading for the fire exit when the door back at the other end of the corridor opened, and a suited man came through from the auction floor. He spotted the three men and shouted a challenge. He was just reaching inside his jacket when Tovmas shot him twice, the shots ear-splittingly loud and echoing in the narrow
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