by John Bowers
“Počemu vy, govorjaŝim na anglijskom jazyke?” someone else demanded.
“We have a new employee,” Diana said, “and he doesn’t speak Rukranian.”
She pointed at Nick and waved her hand upward. He stood.
“This is Nick Russo. He came to us from the Federation and now works for us. Nick is a specialist and will take the lead in this operation. All of you, keep your eyes and ears open; if you see, hear, or smell anything Patushkin, report it immediately. Nick Russo will pick one or two men to assist him and he will eliminate the threat.”
Nick stood there a moment, letting the soldiers look him over. He returned a few gazes but didn’t speak. Diana’s words left him feeling numb all over—they wanted him to eliminate the threat?
If anyone else had reservations about his assignment—and they probably did—no one said a word. Bratva soldiers were apparently discouraged from voicing dissent.
Kozel Petreykin took over the meeting.
“Before we leave here this morning, I want to talk to everyone who may have had contact with any of the Patushkin organization in the past few days. I’ve seen two or three of them hanging around the casino, but they’ve kept a low profile. As of right now, however, I want every Patushkin employee and family member in the city located and taken to the island. We will interrogate them thoroughly, and we will find out what is going on!”
*
“You have a golden opportunity here,” Nick told Diana as they rode the lift back to the fourth floor.
“What are you talking about?”
“Four of your protection clients have been put out of business,” he said. “If you want to ensure their loyalty, and the loyalty of the rest of your clients, you can do that, and Patushkin will never be able to take them away from you.”
She stared at him a moment, then shook her head in confusion.
“What…”
“Rebuild those businesses. They paid you for protection; you weren’t able to provide it this time, but you can help them get back on their feet. That’s what a real insurance company would do, and so can you. If you don’t, you will probably lose the income from those businesses forever, but if you rebuild them, not only will you keep the income, but you will also build a level of trust that you don’t have now.”
She stared at him as if he were crazy.
“Nick, those businesses are nothing but ash! Do you have any idea what it would cost to put them on their feet again?”
Nick laughed.
“Come on, Diana! A few thousand russos for each one. You people are swimming in cash. I’ll bet the casino clears more in one night than it would cost to rebuild those stores. And once the other merchants see what you’ve done, they’re yours forever, because they know you’ll take care of them.”
Diana shook her head as if the idea were too preposterous to consider.
“That’s how we did it in Joisey,” Nick added quickly. “Just sayin’.”
“Okay, I will think about it. Right now you have more important things to consider. Get yourself some coffee and something to eat and be ready. As soon as we talk to our people, we may have some work for you.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Wait on the mezzanine so I can find you.”
“Fair enough. In the meantime, you should probably think about security measures. If the Patushkins are on the warpath, they might decide to drop one of those plasma bombs in the Rodina.”
Diana nodded grimly. “We’re already on it.”
*
The Rodina was closed during the day, but the kitchen was open to serve staff and employees. Nick had breakfast on the mezzanine and poured down a couple of extra coffees. When he finished eating, he was still tired, but effective. Not all that different from combat.
He was on his third cup of coffee when Nicola breezed through. Spotting him, she detoured to his table and dropped into a chair.
“Some crazy shit, huh?”
“You mean the bombings? Yeah, crazy.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m waiting for Diana to give me orders. Looks like I’m working for her today.”
Nicola laughed. She glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, then lowered her voice.
“Don’t tell anyone this? But…no matter what you’ve been told about who runs this family…you’ve been working for Diana all the time.”
Nick raised his eyebrows and grinned.
“Really!”
“Yes. She’s the real brains behind the family. She is the youngest of the cousins but definitely the smartest. She keeps a low profile most of the time, but if one of the older cousins makes a decision she doesn’t like—or if she thinks it’s bad for the business—she always gets her way.”
“Good to know.” Nick lifted his coffee cup and took a sip. “What about her husband?”
“What?”
“She told me she’s a widow. What happened to her hubby?”
Nicola’s eyes glazed just a fraction and she glanced away.
“I don’t know. That was before I came here.”
“But you’ve heard stories.”
“I have?”
“Come on, you’ve been here, what—two years? Surely there’s no shortage of gossip in a company as big as this one.”
Nicola’s eyes zeroed in on his.
“Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “What else am I going to do for the next few hours? Diana said wait for her and I’m bored.”
She glanced around again, suddenly ill at ease.
“Some things are better left alone.”
“Really! Sounds like something sinister happened to the former Mr. Petreykin.”
“His name was Stepurin.”
“Right, I forgot.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Nick, all I know is the man was murdered. I don’t know who did it or why, okay? That’s the end of the story.”
He sipped more coffee, took a deep breath, and released it in a leisurely sigh.
“Bullshit. There is always more to the story.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what happened to him, but you’re afraid to tell me. Why is that?”
“Because I don’t know what happened. I wasn’t here.”
“That’s no reason to be afraid. What have you heard?”
She glanced around again, then leaned in closer.
“I could get fired. Or worse.”
“For gossiping?”
“Yes!”
“Okay.” He sipped more coffee. “Was it a rival family? The Patushkins, maybe?”
She stared at him for long seconds, her tongue tracing her upper lip.
“That’s the official story.”
“Ah! So there’s an unofficial story.”
She picked up his untouched water glass and took a hefty drink.
“You’re going to get me killed.”
“Not a chance. I will never reveal anything you tell me. What are people saying?”
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let it out slowly.
“There is some speculation that one of the cousins did it, or at least ordered it.”
“For what purpose?”
“Apparently, Josef Stepurin was pretty ambitious. He was running his own operation parallel to the family, in direct competition with the family.”
“What kind of business?”
“He had a couple of card rooms, at least one brothel, and he was dealing in slaves.”
Nick felt a twist in his gut at the mention of slaves, but didn’t let it show.
“The family doesn’t like free-lancing?”
“No. Every operation has to be approved by the family, and everyone takes a cut of the proceeds. Orel runs the Rodina, Lebed runs the street business—”
“Street business?”
“Yeah. Protection, drugs, hookers, stuff like that. Stepan controls the government—”
“What?�
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“What?”
“You said Stepan controls the government.”
“Yeah. I don’t know if he controls it, exactly, but he has a lot of influence. He’s a member of the Council of Five, and Bratva controls the government through the Council.”
“How does that work? He only has one vote.”
“Are you kidding? He’s Bratva! It’s really only a Council of One. If he wants something, everybody votes for it. Nobody dares oppose him.”
Nick’s mind was racing. No wonder the Prime Minister was able to get to Nick so easily!
“And Kozel runs the casino?”
“Right. He is also the primary contact with the Sirians. He sells them slaves.”
Nick shook his head. “Wow.”
Nicola nodded. “I guess Josef was running his show in defiance of all that.”
“How much of this is fact and how much is speculation?”
“From what I’ve heard, he definitely was running his own operation. The part about who killed him is mostly speculation, although I’m sure someone around here knows the truth.”
Nick nodded. “Does Diana know?”
“About the rumors? I don’t know, but I don’t see how she can’t know. Nobody speaks openly but everyone talks about it.”
“What do you think?”
“Hey, I just work here. I don’t know who did what to who and I don’t want to know. Some things are just above my pay grade.”
Nick wondered how true that was; it was the second time she had used the same phrase.
*
Half an hour later Nicola went back to work and Nick headed for the men’s room. After washing his hands, he checked to make sure he was alone and then pulled the keycard from his shoe—it glowed green. He squeezed the corners to see the message.
CALL ME.
P.
He frowned, wondering how long the message had been waiting. He left the men’s room and took a lift down to the underground mall, walked a couple of blocks, and ducked into the same alcove where the lockers were located. Using the pocket phone Polina had sent him, he called her.
“Russo! You are alone?”
“Yes. What’s up?’
“I got word a few minutes ago that MGB is investigating you.”
“What? Why?”
“I am not sure, but that is what I heard.”
“Who’s running the investigation?”
“Boris Nikolaev. He works for Bratva.”
“Yeah, I’ve met him. He already ran a background check on me and cleared me.”
“That was for Bratva. This investigation is for the Prime Minister.”
Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “Federov? What the fuck? I met with him yesterday. I thought I made a good impression.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. Just be careful. I am not in position to help you with this.”
Nick’s mind raced, but he managed to keep the tension out of his voice.
“Okay, Polina. Thanks for the heads-up. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“I will. Be careful, Nick.”
Chewing his lip, Nick rang off and called Connie Ventura.
“Are you getting any vibes that I’m being investigated by MGB?”
“No. Where did you hear that?”
“My police contact warned me. Apparently she just found out about it.”
“I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll ask around.”
“Okay.”
“Did those bombings last night have anything to do with you?”
“Yeah, the targets were all ‘clients’ of the family.”
“Clients?”
“Victims of the protection scam. The family thinks the Patushkins are behind it, trying to undermine Petreykin’s relationship with their merchants.”
“How will that affect your job?”
“I’ve been assigned to interrogate some people. Don’t know the details yet, but looks like it’s going to happen today.”
“Where will you be?”
“They said something about ‘the island’. I assume they’re talking about the casino.”
Connie was silent a moment.
“Okay. Take care of yourself, and call me if you need help.”
“I will. Thanks. Gotta go.”
Nick shoved the phone back in his pocket and returned to Rodina. An hour later, he was sitting at the bar having another cup of coffee when Diana came for him.
Chapter 20
“Russo, they have some prisoners for you to interrogate. Nicola will take you.”
Nicola had arrived with Diana. She smiled at him.
“Where are we going?”
“To the island. The casino. When you get there, ask for Misha. He is holding the prisoners.”
Nick nodded and finished off his coffee. He stood up.
“Let’s go.”
It was midmorning on a Sunday. Apparently the Rukranians weren’t big on religion—Nick hadn’t seen a single church in Periscope Harbor—but it was a beautiful day and the weekend traffic was moderate. It took Nicola fifteen minutes to reach the island and land on the casino roof. As they emerged from the hovercar, the wind was quiet and Beta Centauri burned brightly over the mountains.
A gorgeous day.
The casino was only about half as busy as it had been on his first visit, but the games were in progress. Nick knew from past experience that serious gamblers had little concept of time—day and night came and went, but they were aware only of the artificial sights and sounds that swirled around them.
Nicola led him to the same control center where he’d met Kozel the first time. Kozel was still there (or so it seemed—he had been at the emergency meeting that morning). He nodded at Nick and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, an excited squeal pierced Nick’s eardrums. He turned to see two middle-aged women rushing up the steps onto the dais. Both were attractive, both were well dressed, and both were apparently very rich. The one doing the squealing rushed at Kozel with her arms wide and threw them around his neck.
“As I live and breathe, it’s Ko-zel. Hair yew?”
“Mistress Turner! You look lovely as always.” Kozel diplomatically disentangled himself and took her hand, which he kissed with a small bow. “I hope you are having fun at casino?”
“I am havin’ a ball! I just got in last night. Sam picked me up at the airport and here I am!”
She threw her arms wide again and giggled like a school girl. Nick mentally shook his head.
Exhibitionist.
Kozel played his part to keep a customer satisfied. He kissed her hand again.
“I am so glad you could make it. I think Mr. Turner and I have concluded our business discussion, so you should be able to enjoy your stay without interruption. Please, have a good time, and if you need anything, do not hesitate to let me know.”
“I will.” Still giggling, she turned and led her friend back to the main floor. She looked back once, waved with wriggling fingers, and giggled again.
“Bye!”
As she tripped away, Kozel watched her for a moment, then turned back to Nick and Nicola.
“Sorry about that. Her husband is an important official in the Sirian Confederacy, so I have to kiss their feet every time they come here.”
“Is he the Sirian I met the other night?”
“Da. Now, to more important things—do you remember where the interrogation room is?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Misha is waiting for you.”
“Diana said you have a prisoner?”
“Several. You are to interrogate them, find out what they know. We need proof that the Patushkins are behind the bombings, and we need to prevent them from doing it again.”
“What are the rules of interrogation?”
“Nothing is off the table.”
Nick nodded, his stomach tightening. He glanced at Nicola, whose eyes looked like saucers.
“I’ll wait in the bar,” she said quickly,
and left without waiting for a reply.
Kozel’s expression was grim as he stared at Nick.
“We are counting on you, Russo. Do not let us down.”
*
The last time Nick visited the interrogation room, Kozel had used a key to unlock a couple of intermediate doors. Nick had no key, but found a button at the outer door and pushed it. Nearly a minute later, the door swung open and a short, stocky Rukranian peered out at him. The man looked about thirty, with a shaven, tattooed head and piggish eyes. Nick saw blood spatter on his T-shirt. A hunting knife hung from his belt.
“Are you Misha?”
“Da. You Russo?”
“Da.”
Misha wheeled and led Nick down the steps to the second door, then into the concrete-lined interrogation room. As he passed through the doorway, Nick smelled urine and feces.
In the center of the room were three chairs. Seated in the chairs was a woman in her thirties and two small boys who looked to be about five and eight. All were secured to the chairs with restraints, including ankle and wrist cuffs and chest straps. All three were blond and blue-eyed, all three looked traumatized. The smallest boy was crying, the other was tear-streaked but silent; both were obviously terrified.
The woman wasn’t very attractive, but under such circumstances that was no surprise. Her hair was medium length and disheveled; her blouse had been ripped off, leaving only her bra. The bra was soaked in blood and as she stared up at him with heaving shoulders, he saw that her front teeth were missing.
So was her left ear.
Nick stared at her a moment, rage welling up inside him. He sucked in a deep breath.
“What happened here?” he asked Misha.
The stocky man shrugged.
“I warm them up for you.”
“You warmed them up for me.” He turned and pinned the Ruke with a murderous gaze. “Do you know who I am?”
Misha’s eyes narrowed in surprise.
“Da. You are Russo.”
“That’s right. I am Russo. The family instructed me to interrogate these prisoners, did you know that?”
“Da. But—”
“Me! Not you, but me! Are you trying to take my job?”