by John Bowers
Nick stood silent for a moment, feeling the hairs on his neck curl again. This time the tingle reached halfway up his scalp.
“Are you suggesting that Diana had something to do with the bombings?”
“I don’t know, but it makes perfect sense. If she can throw suspicion onto the Patushkins… I don’t know. I need to think it through.”
“So do I. Connie, keep your head down for a day or two. Don’t try to contact me.”
“Why?”
“I can’t say for sure. I just have a bad vibe about this whole affair.”
“You and me both!”
“Have you heard from Polina today?”
“No. You?”
“Nothing.” He traced his tongue across his lips. “I have to go. Stay quiet. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Be careful, Nick. Be very, very careful.”
After Connie rang off, Nick called Polina’s number, but after fifteen pulses got no response. He disconnected.
Strange. He hoped Polina was all right.
Monday, April 6, 0448 (CC)
The Rodina – Periscope Harbor, Beta Centauri
Nick was a little ambivalent Monday morning when he reported to the mezzanine for breakfast with Diana. Until yesterday, she had merely been one of the criminal cousins that he had to deal with, but her revelation that she and Kozel had brought down the airliner—and her cavalier attitude about it—placed her in a totally new category in his mind.
She was waiting when he arrived at her table, looking hotter than ever in a slinky red dress that blended perfectly with her pale complexion and black hair. She was drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette, which she extinguished when he sat down. She looked him over with open curiosity, a little smile on her painted lips.
“You look refreshed. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a log. How about you?”
“I always sleep well.” She punched up a holo-menu. “Order anything you want. We probably have another big day in front of us.”
“Not as big as yesterday, I hope.”
He peered at the menu for a moment, then made two or three selections. The menu vanished.
“What’s the latest from the casino?”
“What do you mean?”
“Casualties.”
“Oh.” Diana’s expression fell. “Four hundred thirty-three dead, two hundred and eleven injured. About forty of those aren’t expected to make it.”
“Jesus!”
“Yeah. I know.”
He took a deep breath, as if to cleanse his soul.
“What’s on tap for today?”
“You have to finish the interrogations. The prisoners have been moved to this building, in the basement.”
Nick poured a glass of water from a pitcher sitting on the table. He took a drink.
“Why is that necessary? After yesterday, I think there’s very little doubt who was behind the Saturday-night bombings.”
Diana’s head tilted as she studied him, her long hair dangling halfway to the table.
“You don’t want to finish the job?”
He shrugged. “I just don’t see the point. And I don’t like terrorizing innocent people.”
“How do you know they’re innocent?”
“I’m sure some of them may not be, but the only ones I talked to yesterday were a housewife and her two small boys. She was scared out of her wits and had absolutely no idea what I was talking about.”
“You’re sure about that.”
“Yes.” He took another sip of water. “How many prisoners do we have?”
“About thirty. We know for a fact that a couple of them are Patushkin soldiers.”
“Then execute them. We already know the Patushkins attacked us. There is nothing to gain from further interrogation, unless you just want to emphasize what bad-asses we are…but I think they already know that.”
“Execute them. And let the rest go free?”
“Why not? Who are they going to tell?”
She pinned him with her lovely blue eyes for a moment, a little smile playing across her lips.
“You seem to have it all worked out.”
“Maybe not all of it, but I’m pretty observant; and last night I ran everything through my mind. I see a retaliation coming, from us to them, and I think it’s going to be bloody. We might want to hold the prisoners until that’s over, just in case I’m wrong, but after that, there’s no point in holding them any longer. Or killing them, either.”
“Because…?”
“Because after we’re done, there will be no one for them to run to, no one to take their complaints. And they sure as hell aren’t going to tell the police.”
“How do you know that?”
“I think everyone in this city knows that Bratva is bulletproof where the cops are concerned.” He poured himself a cup of coffee from the half-empty pot on the table. “Remember when I was telling you how we did it in Joisey? How we gained the loyalty of our protection clients? Killing these prisoners just because their name is Patushkin would be the direct opposite of that. Instead of building goodwill, we’d be creating more enemies. Creating enemies is bad for business.”
He took a sip of coffee, set the cup down, and stared at her, waiting for a response. Diana pulled out another cigarette, started to light it, then changed her mind and put it away. She returned his gaze, her own eyes thoughtful.
“You are an interesting man, Nick Russo. I think I was right about you.”
He grinned. “Is that good or bad?”
“I guess it depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
“And I’m going to tell you.” She nodded toward an approaching waiter. “But first let’s eat, then we’ll go somewhere more private and talk some more.”
They were halfway through breakfast when Nick spotted a man and two women approaching their table. He recognized them immediately and got to his feet as a lowly Bratva soldier would be expected to do. Sam Turner, the Sirian from the casino, reached for his hand and gripped it like a drowning man clutching a straw. Nick was surprised to see tears in the man’s eyes.
“Mr. Russo—it is Russo, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank yew! Thank yew! Ruby and Wanda both told me what yew did yesterday when them bastards attacked the casino. I can never repay yew for savin’ their lives.” He wrung Nick’s hand, babbling like a supplicant. “Please, if there is ever anything I kin do for yew, all yew have to do is ask. Anything! No price is too high. Just name it!”
You could stop dealing in slaves…
“Thank you, Mr. Turner, but you don’t owe me anything. I was just doing my job.”
The two women, Mistress Turner and Wanda, both moved in and kissed him on the cheek. Mistress Turner—Ruby?—gave him a squeeze as well. Both women looked none the worse for wear, though they would likely never forget their harrowing experience.
“Yew must be an angel,” Mistress Turner told him. Tears moistened her cheeks. “We would have been dead, burned to ashes, if yew hadn’t been there. I never seen it comin’, and neither did Wanda. I heard it, but I never seen it.”
Wanda clung to his other arm, squeezing it and nodding agreement. She was unable to find her voice, and suddenly broke into sobs. Nick put an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss into her frosted, carefully coiffed hair.
“As I said, it was my job…but it was also my honor. The fact that you’re both safe is all the thanks I need.”
Wanda sobbed again and wrapped both arms around him, then Ruby took her place and also hugged him. He kissed her hair as well.
I’m probably going to have to kill your husband…
Sam Turner cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and gently nudged the women away.
“We ought to let Mr. Russo finish his breakfast,” he told the women. To Nick, “We just didn’t want to miss the opportunity to thank yew. And again, anything I can do—anything at all. If yew ever visit Sirius…”
A few more words were exchanged, then the Turners walked away. Nick settled back at the table with a sigh and reached for his coffee cup. Diana was regarding him with humor in her eyes.
“You certainly made an impression on them,” she said. “And it’s a good thing, too. Sam Turner is an important business partner. The goodwill you bought yesterday could translate into millions of russos.”
Just as they were finishing their meal, Nick saw Nicola breeze into the mezzanine from the direction of the downstairs bar. She walked past their table at an oblique angle that would allow Diana to summon her, but Diana flicked a wrist for her to keep going. When Diana looked away, Nicola raised her eyebrows at Nick, grinned, and disappeared in the direction of the lift.
“Are you ready to take a ride?” Diana pushed her chair back and stood. Nick followed suit.
“Where we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
They took the lift up to the parking garage, but didn’t stop there. The lift continued to the very top of the building and opened into a penthouse. As they stepped out, Nick looked around in awe at the furnishings, which rivaled what he had seen at the hilltop mansion a few days earlier.
“Is this your pad?”
“My pad?”
“Your digs. Where you live.”
Diana laughed. “I am going to have to study Federation slang to understand you. Da, this is my ‘pad’.”
“Sweet.”
He glanced out a window and saw the whole western part of the city sprawling before him.
“Some view.”
“I like it.”
She took his hand and led him across a broad living area to a cozy seating arrangement facing the window. It was too early for alcohol and, thankfully, she didn’t offer him anything. Instead, she pointed to one end of a couch and sat down on the other. He sat and rested his arm across the back of the couch; she kicked off her heels and twisted to face him, tucking her legs underneath her body.
She smiled, locking gazes with him.
“You are the first employee I’ve ever had up here,” she told him.
“Really? Should I be flattered?”
“That is up to you.”
She stared at him for fully ten seconds; he stared back, wondering what this was about.
“I’ve been watching you, Nick. From the night you first showed up, you impressed me. You walked up to our table and demanded a job; you were so sure of yourself! Confident. I sensed right away that you are a man who is comfortable in his own skin, cannot be intimidated, and fears absolutely nothing.”
“Thank you.”
“From that first meeting, you kept on scoring points. When Lebed’s men confronted you, you didn’t hesitate. You felt a need to protect Nicola and you did. I know it infuriated Lebed, but it was his own stupid fault for sending them after you.” She held a hand beside her mouth as if whispering a secret: “Between you and me, I never liked those two anyway, and I’m glad you killed them.”
She lowered her hand.
“Then, working with Aleksandr, you tracked down those idiots who robbed our merchants and got the money back; you dealt with the Prime Minister’s son when he tried to start trouble, and used exactly the right amount of force for the situation.
“And yesterday…” She shook her head in wonder. “Yesterday! God, what can I say about that, except that you confirmed every suspicion I had about you. Nick, I sense that you are an ambitious man, willing to work hard, fight hard, and rise to the very top. Am I right?”
He grinned, wondering if she was setting him up for something.
“Yes.”
She nodded, her expression betraying pride in her own judgment.
“I thought so. Which is why I have a proposition for you.”
He continued to grin, but squirmed inside. He did not want to sleep with her, not with Victoria waiting at home. He hoped his survival didn’t depend on it.
“Okay.”
“How would you like to run Bratva?”
Her question hit him like a bullet. His skin tingled, his face felt hot, and he came dangerously close to falling off the couch.
“Excuse me?”
She laughed. “You heard me right. I’m offering you a leadership role in the family. If you want it.”
He didn’t answer for ten or twelve seconds. His eyes bored into hers, looking for the trap. Finally he heaved a sigh.
“I’ve only been here a week, Diana.”
“Yes, I know, but what a week it’s been!” She reached out and patted him on the knee. “Look, I know this is sudden and you’re probably shocked to the core, but as you have already seen, things are moving extremely fast. Normally I would wait six months or a year to evaluate you, but there isn’t time for that. I think I’m an excellent judge of character, and I believe this family needs you at the top. The Patushkins are coming after us and they aren’t going to wait for us to get set.”
He held up both hands to stop her.
“What about your brothers? Your cousins? Have you talked this over with them? I can’t imagine they would even consider it. I sure as hell wouldn’t in their position.”
“No, I haven’t run it past them yet. First I need to know if you’re interested, if I can count on you.”
“Yes, you can count on me, but what happens if I should turn you down? You can’t afford to risk that I’ll tell anyone, so maybe you shoot me dead and claim I tried to rape you. Is that how it works?”
She pointed a finger straight at his face.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You’re smart. You’re always thinking two miles ahead of everyone else. You have the right instincts, and a head for business. The ideas you’ve proposed are nothing short of brilliant. I certainly never thought about building goodwill with our merchants, and neither did anyone else, but those suggestions are so logical I can’t believe none of us even considered them.
“Nick…you are a natural to run the family.”
“You still haven’t told me how you plan to suggest this to the others.”
“And you haven’t told me if you’re interested.”
“Well…” Careful, Nick! “…the idea is intriguing. I have to admit that when I came here I had no designs on anybody’s job; I just needed work and a place to call home. This is right out of the blue.”
Her eyes bored into him; she lowered her chin for emphasis, as if to say, “And?”
He took a deep breath, ran a hand over his scalp, and exhaled.
“At this point, let’s just say I’m not turning you down. Give me more information. How would it work?”
Her eyes gleamed as she achieved her first objective. She squeezed his knee as she advanced toward the second.
“The way I figure it, you and I would be married…”
His eyes sprang wide. She squeezed harder and pressed on.
“I know you’re not in love with me, but we can worry about that later. I don’t think I’m so repulsive that you would object too much to at least living with me, even if we don’t sleep together…and like I said, we can work it all out later.”
“I’m listening.” And trying to keep my sanity! This is un-fucking-believable!
“As my husband, you would automatically have a seat at the executive table, and Lebed would no longer be a threat to you. Neither would Boris.”
“Boris!”
“He doesn’t like you. But he’s MGB, and MGB doesn’t trust anybody.” She waved a hand. “Never mind him—if you marry me, you would be his boss, so he becomes irrelevant.”
“Okay, so I would have a seat at the table. That, at least, makes sense. But a minute ago you talked about me running the whole show. At least…that’s what I think I heard you say…”
She stared at him a second, then abruptly got up and walked to a cabinet against the wall. She poured herself a vodka, downed it, then turned to face him.
She heaved a deep
breath, as if agitated.
“Before I say another word, how does it sound so far?”
He chewed his lip for a second, then nodded slowly.
“It sounds good, but it’s a lot to take in. Can I take a day to think about it?”
“No. I’m sorry, but like I said, the Patushkins aren’t going to wait. I have a feeling they’re going to hit us again within the next thirty or forty hours. We simply don’t have time to weigh our options.”
He stared at her another moment, then shrugged.
“Okay. I would rather think it over, but…what the hell—count me in.”
What happened next astonished him. Diana’s lips parted and started to quiver. Tears gushed from her eyes and her chest heaved to deal with her sudden adrenaline rush. She stepped forward and kissed him, then sat down again, still fighting sobs. It took her a moment to stop the tears and control her breathing.
“God, Nick! You have no idea how happy that makes me!”
“I had no idea you were under this much stress.”
“No, you couldn’t have. No one does.” She wiped her eyes again.
“What about the brothers?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but another wave of emotion hit her; she sprang off the couch and returned to the cabinet, where she blew her nose on a tissue from a paper box. Then she poured another drink and returned to her seat.
She downed the vodka.
“Do you want one?”
“No.”
She set the glass on the floor and tucked her legs in again.
“This is the hardest part. I could never tell you this until you agreed to marry me.” She eyed him closely. “You did agree, didn’t you? We have a deal?”
“Yes. We have a deal.”
“Okay. This is the hardest part, and please don’t hate me.”
“Hate you? Why?”
“Do you remember when you asked about my husband? I told you I’m a widow?”
“I remember.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled noisily.
“My husband was murdered. His name was Josef.”
“I’m sorr—”
“No.” She held up a hand. “Never mind that. The point is, my cousins were behind it. They had him killed.”
Nick leaned forward, shock in his eyes.
“What?”