Saving Anya

by Nelson, Latrivia

  The other five board members were brand new, all hand-picked by Dmitry and Anatoly after the near mutiny of the council by the now dead Yuri and Oleg, who tried to assassinate Anatoly nearly a year ago. Their sons Roman and Alesky where now imprisoned after being set up by Gabriel when he was with the DEA to protect his cousin and uncle. After the ordeal, the board was basically defunct. Old members had been dismissed except for Khalid. To add new life, the Medlov men had picked up and coming Vor who had managed to successfully integrate into society unnoticed by kept true to the brotherhood.

  Brothers Roman and Leonid Kuzentsov were twin brothers who had taken the Eastern European block and Western Europe by storm. Sons of the respected Vor Pavel Smirnov (of no relation to Evgeny Smirnov), the boys had inherited a fortune, been classically educated at Oxford like Vladimir, Khalid’s son, and had taken over two major industries. Roman was the president of RBZ Bank in Austria and his brother, Leonid, was a steel tycoon in Moscow, who had recently moved part-time to Spain. Both were familiar with Dmitry Medlov and were happy to be vetted and finally chosen to sit on the board when asked.

  Alexander Lebedev was a man of fortune who had made his millions in pharmaceuticals. He and Dmitry had met during one of Dmitry’s meetings in Sweden, where he had heavily encouraged Dmitry to invest in one of his newest medical breakthroughs, a drug to help with restless leg syndrome – which he asserted was a side effect of so many other medicines until they both would be thoroughly rich with the launch of his newest line. Lebedev had been correct in his forecast and made the men millions. However, the men made even more money off their black market sales of his other medicine, a sex enhancement drug sold at nearly all of Igor Golovakha’s high end night clubs.

  Igor was a brilliant man who had never stepped foot in a club. However, he owned over 500 of them in Russian and most of the neighboring countries. Devoted to the Vor, he was one of the only council members that kept true to the code strictly. He had been Anatoly’s pick, because of his clubs, which Anatoly had used to set up meetings regarding his guns. It had been a perfect marriage and continued to be.

  The last member was Pavel Yeltsin a man of no relation to Boris Yeltsin, but widely known for his computer wizardry. He commissioned over 2,000 computer specialists to steal, re-create and destroy every type of human identity globally. Dmitry and Anatoly had met with him on several occasions before making a decision, simply because they knew that one day Pavel might very well be more powerful than them. However, Pavel had no interest in going up against weapons traffickers. Instead, he saw the union as a way to ensure his own businesses success and provide himself protection against those who might have once tried to encroach on his territory. The final decision had been made only a few months ago to add him to the council and so far, everything had gone well.

  The board was actually stronger now. The men had no long-term ties to the Medlov Crime Family before last year and this new start gave the Medlov men new life in the global structure of things. It also made them a hell of a lot more powerful in the underworld. So far, no one could match them. With clubs, pharmaceuticals, weapons, steel and identity theft, they were close to taking over whole countries if they so desired.

  This had only been the second time since Dmitry and Royal had moved to Prague that the council had met here, but even still Dmitry had a special room connected to his office for their meetings.

  Stepan was there to greet the men as soon as they came through the door. His presence was a mix of old world Vor and modern butler with tattoos on his hands, up his arms and always impeccably dressed. With a servant-like bow, chrome guns holstered under his arms in a tailored white shirt and black slacks, he motioned toward the left wing of the house and then escorted them slowly to their meeting spot.

  Stepan was nearly 67 years old and had come to the chateau many years ago, well before Dmitry’s father had passed. With the deed to the house, also came Stepan according to local legend. He was a quiet man whom many where not sure could speak English until he broke his silence to say something of importance.

  The story was that the old man had vowed service to the Czar of the Vor after Evgeny Smirnov’s predecessor saved his son from the persecution of the communists well before Russia fell.

  However, Stepan had never said a word about his previous life and made a point to only focus on his job. Since he had worked for Dmitry, he had never had a wife or a lady friend, never spoke of children or even family. He was the quiet second-in-command of the house and most who met the quiet, bald, man with a hard face of long straight nose and dark blue eyes, figured that he could use the guns well that he brandished daily. So no one tried him.

  And the only one who truly knew Stepan’s history was Dmitry and he never told a soul…not even Royal.

  Coming to a halt at the double doors beside Dmitry’s study, Stepan slowly grasped the brass knobs of the doors and opened them wide. Stepping aside, the men filed inside and took their respective seats around the long table that awaited them with coffee, tea, vodka, caviar and other cordials.

  “Do any of you require additional food or drink?” Stepan asked as he looked around the table at each man.

  They all gave a quick nod of no and then flipped open briefings that Dmitry had his tech team prepare to bring them up to speed.

  “Very well, please ring if you should find yourself in need of something,” Stepan said in a low, croaking voice before he slowly made his way out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

  There were two chairs vacant. The men put two and two together and knew before Dmitry even entered the room that he was returning.

  In the past, during meetings, Dmitry sat in the corner and listened, but having removed himself from the council, chose not to sit at the table.

  This time however, there was a chair at the front of the table and a chair at the end of the table. The one at the front had been made especially for his large build with a higher than normal back and a longer than normal seat. The arms were fashioned in wood and brass and the entire chair was covered in black leather upholstery. It was without a doubt, Dmitry’s signature style- elegant and masculine.

  The men read the briefing with intrigue. Flipping through the pages, they snapped their fingers and their bodyguards quickly came to the table to fix their beverages and small plates of caviar with crackers.

  “Can you believe this shit?” Leonid hissed as he licked his thumb and quickly turned the page.

  “This proves one thing and one thing only…” his brother, Roman, said sipping his tea. “No one is untouchable. But that goes for the protagonist and the antagonist of this little story. According to this, the money was transferred to my bank. I can find out whose name is on that account now.” Grabbing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, hanging on his chair, he stood up and walked over the window.

  “Who would be stupid enough to give an account number to an Austrian Bank?” Alexander asked. They have to know that we would trace it.

  “I need a trace on…” Roman snapped his fingers and his bodyguard brought over the file. Flipping the document open again, he called out the numbers and waited.

  Khalid sat quietly in his chair and looked at the information. His eyes were glued to the picture of Balthazar and Manon. Running his hand over the black and white composite, he took a deep breath and reached into his pocket for his pain pills.

  “Where is Dmitry?” Pavel asked, closing his brief. He had read enough. “There has to be a reason why he wants to meet with all of us in the middle of this fiasco.”

  “Maybe he needs our help,” Roman interjected.

  “Couldn’t he have simply called in a favor?” Pavel followed up. “There was no need to fly us out.”

  “He’s taking over, Pavel,” Khalid said in a matter-of-fact tone. He raised his boney finger and pointed at the chair at the head of the long table. “He’s taking his rightful place as Czar again. And Anatoly is going to step down and serve as a council member just like the rest of us
.” He pointed down to the other end of the table at the other vacant chair.

  “Well, maybe not exactly like the rest of us. At the end of the day, Anatoly will still be Czar whether he steps down today or not. It’s his legacy,” Roman muttered.

  “I rather like the idea,” Alexander said cheerfully. “The man has a world of knowledge to share. We can’t go anywhere but up.”

  “But the big question why now?” Roman asked. “Why in the middle of this?”

  “God only knows,” Khalid said, shaking his head.

  ***

  Dmitry was still reeling from fighting with Royal thirty minutes after it had happened. He had gone upstairs to have a quick drink and slip into another dress shirt before his meeting, but mostly he needed to get away from everyone after he made the wire transfer of $250 million of his fucking money with no sign of his daughter.

  He clenched his fist at the thought of Royal again. How could she question him now? Of all people? Hadn’t he told her to trust him? Hadn’t he told her to let him handle this? In a fit, he had madly punched the wall in the bedroom and left a large hole where he stood. The action had left his hand bloody, but the release felt good to him. In that moment, he thought about punching it again but worried that his hands would be too swollen to use when it was time to put them around Balthazar’s neck. That was the only thought that stopped him.

  Looking at himself in the custom-made body length mirror in his bedroom, he slipped on his suit jacket and moved closer to his reflection. He stared at himself blankly for a minute and then turned around on his heels and headed out of the bedroom door. Nostrils flaring, chest stuck out, he walked with purpose towards the meeting. The heel of his shoe and his long stride echoed down the hall as he made his way past his sons’ room, past the bathrooms and the other guestrooms to the large stairwell that led down to the main floor.

  As he looked down the long flight of stairs, he took control of his feelings and locked them away. He knew that the answers to finding his daughter where in the room he was about to enter and the only way that he could get to her was to keep his cool. Reminding himself of that, he stilled his racing heart and made himself go numb.

  With each step that he made down the stairs, he closed a little more of himself off. He shut off the hysteria of not knowing where his precious angel was. He shut off the pain of being again reminded of his brother through his devious works. He shut off the fury of being deceived by Khalid. He shut off the worry of destroying yet another part of his wife and he turned on the man who had laid dormant for too long. He turned on the cold, calculated killer who begged to be set free. He cleared his eyes of emotions, cleared his mind of consequence, cleared his hopes of tomorrow and focused.

  By the time that his size 19 foot hit the bottom step, he was a different man. The sweat that had formed on his brow before leaving his room has gone. The dryness at the base of his throat was now gone. The man that he once was, was now…gone. He ran a hand through his hair and coolly proceeded with old swagger past Stepan and his men through the foyer and headed to the meeting.

  When the door opened, it appeared that he breezed in past the bodyguards to his rightful chair. He pulled it back carefully, unbuttoned his jacket and sat down.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said, sitting back in the chair. Weaving his long fingers together, he gazed over everyone and raised his brow. “I’m back,” he said with a devious grin.

  Khalid felt a cold chill run over his spine when Dmitry looked over at him. The dimple in his cheek showed as he smiled at him, but there was something void of real emotion behind his eyes.

  “Anatoly has respectfully stepped down. And as Czar, my first act is to find my daughter. Selfish, I know, but a necessary thing. So, let’s move past the formalities and skip to the real shit.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver Cross pen. He placed his hands on the pad in front of him. “Roman, RBZ Bank is where I sent my fucking money…are you on it?” He looked over at Roman and tilted his head.

  “Da, da, brat.” Roman had been quiet after his call to thebank. Now sitting down, he looked over at Khalid and hesitantly answered. His brown eyes barely blinked. “The account that you wired the money to belongs to Khalid Sidorov.”

  The entire room went deathly still. All eyes burned through Khalid.

  The old man looked over at Roman with a frown of confusion and then back to Dmitry. “Impossible,” he said confidently. “I have no such account.”

  “Are you sure that you don’t know anything about this, my dear friend?” Dmitry asked.

  “How can you even ask?” Khalid replied with disbelief in his withered features.

  “How can I not,” Dmitry said, putting down his pen. “Something that I didn’t included in the briefing is that your son is still alive. You want to tell me that isn’t true as well.”

  Khalid’s mouth twisted as a strong pain hit him. “No. It’s true.”

  The rest of the men knew this story well. It was a whispered tale among the new recruits about the bond between Dmitry and Khalid, but now it seemed to be all falling apart. Khalid was not the man that Dmitry thought him to be.

  “Why did you lie to me? After I trusted you, you lied to me about Vladimir,” Dmitry said without emotion. He sucked his perfectly white teeth and then picked up a glass of water beside him. As he was about to drink it, he stopped and put it down. “Bring me a bottle water,” he said to the bodyguard by the bar.

  “The explanation is simple. I could not bring myself to kill my son. I went to London with the intention to do so, but I could not. Could you imagine killing one of the boys that you so desperately protect upstairs?” Khalid asked sincerely.

  “I would have never agreed to kill one of my children unless I planned to do just that,” Dmitry answered quickly. “So how long have you been in on this? Did you find a way to extort the money out of me that I took from my father? Is that what this is all about?”

  “Just the opposite,” Khalid said, voice quivering. “I’m an old man. Too old to lie or deceive you now. In fact, I received notice from my doctor that I have less than six months to live. Because of that, I have transferred all of my estate over to you. If you don’t believe me, then check the dates that the will was executed. I’ve made my money and my mark. It’s time for me to move on. I told my son just that. I explained to him that I would be leaving him nothing when I left and that he was finally on his own. I’ve taken care of him long enough. Maybe that is what this is all about.”

  Dmitry puckered his mouth in thought and then rested his head back on his chair. “So you didn’t know that your son is working with my father’s daughter to steal from me?”

  “What daughter?” Khalid asked. “The woman in the photo?” He picked the picture back up and looked at it again.

  “Yes, the woman in the fucking photo,” Dmitry snapped. “You didn’t know?”

  Khalid was calm. “No. I did not know. If I had known, I would have told you.”

  “You would tell me that but you wouldn’t tell me that Vladimir was still alive,” Dmitry said, not knowing what to believe.

  “Vladimir was no threat to you…so I thought. I paid for his entire lifestyle outside of what little money he made for himself with his senseless schemes. He wouldn’t be a threat now, if I weren’t dying. And no, I had no idea that Evgeny had a daughter. I knew that this girl worked for him at the Red Square but he never said a thing about her being related to him.”

  “He hid it well,” Dmitry said, exhaling a frustrated sigh.

  “When she would come to the suite, I thought that they were making love when they would go into the bedroom and close the door. I had no idea that they were talking…plotting. Probably against me,” Khalid said, putting the pieces together after so many years.

  Dmitry looked over at the old man and without hesitation said, “I believe you. But what are you going to do to rectify the situation?”

  “What would you
have me do?” Khalid asked. “Ask me anything.”

  “Can you get him on his cell phone? We can track the number and pinpoint his location. He has my money, but more importantly, he had Anya.”

  “I can give you that an all of his safe houses,” Khalid said, wiping sweat from his brow. He rested an elbow on the table, completely out of character for him and gave a deflated and defeated groan.

  The men looked on at the man and felt both shame and pity for him.

  “Hopefully, you’ll never have to make the decisions that I have to,” Khalid said, not making excuses for his decision.

  “Killing your father is a pretty hard fucking decision, Khalid,” Dmitry reminded him of his sins. “Yet, I followed through with it. I did what I said I would, just like I always do.” His admonishment stung Khalid to the core. Turning his attention to the other men, he tapped his finger on the table. “There are two other things that we need to discuss. These things couldn’t be discussed over the phone. One. There is something that is going to happen tomorrow morning that I have already authorized. This thing might effect some of you and your connections. I take full responsibility for those things, but I can’t discuss it with you any further until tomorrow.”

  “Is it a hit?” Roman asked blatantly.

  “Yes,” Dmitry answered.

  “On one of us?” Pavel asked.

  “No,” Dmitry looked at Khalid. “But it was necessary in order to get Anya back and to get the information that I currently have on our new friends. Also I want to bring another member to the council. This will be the last member for a while.”

  Khalid smiled. “Gabriel.”

  Dmitry always appreciated Khalid’s quick thinking, even now. He pursed his lips and showed the lines in his face as he rested back in his seat. “Yes…Gabriel.”

  “He was a fucking DEA agent,” Alexander said, frowning. “The code…”