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A Bride of Allah
Sergey Baksheev
Translator Nikolai Chuvakhin
© Sergey Baksheev, 2018
© Nikolai Chuvakhin, translation, 2018
ISBN 978-5-4496-0476-7
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Sergey Baksheev
A BRIDE OF ALLAH
A Novel
Translated from the Russian
by Nikolai Chuvakhin
Annotation
Years ago, at war, he hated and killed; today, he saved the life of a female suicide bomber. And now, a deadly chase is on. He is hunted by both the authorities and the terrorists; his only friend betrays him. He is to be killed; she is to be blown up in a public place wearing a bride’s dress. Only love can provide the strength needed for the unfair fight.
* * * * *
About the author
Sergey Baksheev is one of Russia’s famous modern day authors in the genre of suspense thrillers. His novels feature not only an exciting plot, but leave readers questioning the morality of the storyline. Incredible intrigue, gripping suspense, shocking secrets, romance and lust – his writing has it all, appealing to a world-wide circle of readers.
He is the author of 26 novels, and lives in Moscow.
Copyright © Sergey Baksheev, 2012
Chapter 1
August 31, 7:36 PM
Dmitrovskaya Metro Station
A beige Lada, model six, leisurely moved in the right lane of Dmitrovskoe Shosse towards the center of Moscow. Andrei Vlasov has been operating a gypsy cab for a few months now. He deliberately drove slower than the traffic flow, keeping an eye out for a pick-up. The business day was over, the traffic got denser. Annoyed drivers flashed headlights at him and made gestures aimed to show what an idiot of a rookie driver he was.
Vlasov didn’t care about the insulting gesticulation. As soon as he picked up a passenger, he would show the lazy asses what driving in traffic looks like. They are having trouble passing him? Get a helicopter if you’ve got no patience!
His mental exercises in pride were interrupted by a call on his cell phone. He pulled a vibrating Siemens out of his shirt pocket.
“Hello?” he said wearily.
“Andrei, is that you?” Mom, with her usual stupid starter question.
“Who else would it be, Mom?”
“Andrei, make sure to buy some bread for dinner! Rye.”
“Okay, Mom, I will.”
“Just don’t forget! I know you; it will just skip your mind! Buy some right now and come home. You have to eat; you don’t take care of yourself. Unless Mother reminds – ”
“All right, I’ll go get some,” Vlasov reassured her, trying to avoid getting annoyed.