Once we went over the plan with Valentina, we headed back to the house.
Our men and the staff got rid of the bloody mice and gorilla. A few maids did their best to wash up the Knights of Babylon symbol on the wall. Unfortunately, the image remained. The wall would need to be painted over. All of the furniture should be thrown out.
Meanwhile, the stink of death, rot, and blood thickened the air upstairs. There was no way I would make Emily remain in that house.
I took her to my two-level penthouse on Golden Mile.
Anchored by an imposing statue of Friedrich Engels and a Russian Orthodox church capped in golden domes, Moscow's Golden Mile was a premier residential area located between the banks of the Moscow River and Ostozhenka Street. It was near everything—embassies, diplomatic buildings, as well as see-and-be-seen dining spots. There were several art galleries and luxury brand boutiques. It was a haven for artists, physicians, opera singers, and high level politicians. Residents included wealthy Russian businesspeople and celebrities. Many would shoot a family member to buy a spot in the prestigious area.
Most considered the Golden Mile the beating heart of the city. Therefore, the location was home to some of the city's priciest real estate, delivering river views and a vibrant landscape. Coveted properties went from $3.5 million to $22 million. And through its detailed architecture, the Golden Mile told the story of Moscow over the ages. It was a mix of classic and modern structures, Neo-Gothic complexes, ornate Art Nouveau buildings and contemporary luxury arrangements with floor-to-ceiling windows.
The penthouse would be fine for now, but soon we’ll have to buy a new home without all the history.
My penthouse was within a luxurious club house built in the style of Russian classicism—a rich entrance with stained glass windows, columns, and stucco. Many years ago Ralph Lauren had designed the interior. The club house had twelve other apartments. Pavel went ahead to buy up as many of the empty residences to outfit Emily’s and my security.
All and all, the penthouse was a decent size—living room, kitchen, five bathrooms, and six bedrooms. It was equipped with a huge terrace and provided a panoramic glazing with views of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, the Temple of Elijah the Prophet of the Abyss, and the Moscow River. It had a private entrance with its own security.
Long ago, I usually reserved the penthouse for business and a little partying at times. In the past, I’d brought a few women by, but no one ever spent the night, and none entered my master suite. Emily deserved a royal place. For now, the penthouse would do until we found a new house to have new memories.
Once we arrived, exhaustion hit us both. I showed Emily around and introduced her to the penthouse’s staff. We ate on the terrace and did our best to forget the dead gorilla, the Knights of Babylon, and even Jean-Pierre.
Later in the evening, I took her into the master suite, and she passed out within my arms. Harlem whimpered from the floor, probably unhappy to be in a new place and not cuddled up with us on the bed. Eventually, after a few of my glares, he trotted to his cashmere doggy bed and passed out.
But I couldn’t sleep.
A new division had entered the brotherhood over my choice in love. It had nothing to do with money, power, or greed. It all dealt with hate and the violence that comes with racism. Never did I think Emily’s race would be a factor with the brotherhood.
And never would I let this harassment of her continue. She was the love of my life—the mother of my child. For the first time in all my existence, I would now put something over the brotherhood—Emily and my child. All would burn and die, before causing them anymore pain.
As my mouse slept, I held her warm body close to me. My little one lay within her womb. Doing my best not to wake her, I placed my hand across Emily’s stomach.
How much did our child understand about what was going on? Would this situation cause problems to Emily’s pregnancy?
I have to take charge, before this continues to get out of control.
Breathing my beautiful woman in, I landed a kiss on her forehead and silently promised to do everything in these next days to protect her.
If I can’t find the ones in the brotherhood that are responsible, then I’ll kill them all. Bomb every house. Flatten all of Russia too, if it meant she would be protected. No one and nothing will be safe—not even my own county. Not even my own friends.
Chapter 19
Kapotnya
Emily
In the limo, Max and I headed to Kapotnya. Boris, Blue, and Lemon rode ahead of us in black vans filled with my people. Kaz’s men rode in vans behind us. With the huge motorcade, the people of this district probably thought the president was arriving.
The limo continued on, past boarded-up buildings. On the right, a stone church appeared with windows glowing ivy green. A cemetery lay behind it surrounded by a spiky fence.
Max turned to me. “What do you think of the penthouse?”
“Luxurious as always.”
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Surprisingly, I did.” I glanced at him. “What about you?”
“Kazimir has David, Boris, and me in the apartment right next to you. They’re interesting roommates. We’ll see how this works.”
“All three of you are bachelors. I bet there will be a lot of parties and tons of strippers in there soon.”
“Well. . .” Max smirked. “Speaking of strip clubs, David and I hit one up last night.”
“Good. You both needed a break. But, why didn’t you take Boris?”
“The idiot didn’t want to come. He stood outside of your penthouse most of the night, worried that more dead gorillas would come.”
“He’s dedicated.”
“No. He’s in love.”
I raised my brows. “With whom?”
“You. Of course.”
“He’s not.”
“Don’t worry. He’ll get over it soon. It’s all puppy love.”
“Whatever.” I crossed my legs. “New topic. How was the strip club?”
“Girls take off all their clothes here, and you can touch the dancers anywhere on their bodies.” He winked. “Well, except where most want to touch, but the breasts are up for grabs. Overall, I would give last night’s place a B+.”
“That’s low for you.”
“I need to hit the place up a few times, before I give it a final grade.”
“And you couldn’t take anyone home last night?”
“Yeah. They were immune to my charm.”
“And as far as the touching, did you seize the opportunity and explore the women’s bodies?”
“I have to do what the locals do. It’s only proper.”
I laughed. “Of course.”
“Anyway, I could have taken someone home, but all of the girls were prostitutes, and no one was trying to hide it at all. Taking one home would have meant money not conquest. It’s all about the hunt for me.”
“I guess they’re more accepting of prostitution here than in American strip clubs.”
“Yes. There was another thing. I thought it would all be White girls, but it was crazy diverse. Slavic, Tatars, Central Asians—”
“Tatars?”
“I don’t know what that is, but they’re sexy.”
I grinned. “You’re so crazy.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“If Kaz thinks that he’s taking you from me, he’s even crazier.”
“David explained your lion’s thinking. Kazimir wants me at the house and on the whole investigation. Personally, I want to be on it too. Whoever it is, will probably be next to Kazimir. I’ll be a fresh set of eyes.”
“True, but I still don’t like it.”
“You can’t get everything you want, Em.”
“Right again. But, I can try.” I gazed out of the window and took in my new district.
This morning, Boris wanted me to go see the shelter first—the one his mother and sister had been working on. Barely a month,
I’d bought up two decayed buildings in the district and just gave it to them. Although they didn’t have it long, I was told that people worked around the clock—day and night shifts. Painting, repairing, and making the place a home for all those that needed a safe place to sleep.
Russia was different than America or even the UK. Their state welfare system left a lot to be desired. Most of the poor had to fend for themselves. And since Kapotnya had sparked a special place in my heart, I had to take care of the people that lived there, whether they worked for me or not. But this shelter visit had nothing to do with checking up on my little charity venture.
Max grabbed my attention. “Why are we visiting the shelter again?”
“Boris’s mother may have some information that could help us with the gorilla from yesterday. Mainly, that symbol written in blood on the wall.”
“Sounds good. Anything could help. After the homeless shelter, what’s next?”
“I want to check in on Yuri’s spot. Get some idea of why the person killed him. I keep putting it off. There’s so much going on. It may be the quickest thing we do today. And then we start looking into what Abram has been doing around here. Ending the brothel is my top priority.”
“Did you talk to Kazimir about the underage brothel and drug houses?”
“No. We were too busy on the gorilla.”
“Em, just make sure you move carefully with this shit. We don’t want to piss the brotherhood off.”
“Fuck them.” I scowled. “I’m pissing several of them off for just existing in black skin. I’m not tip toeing around them anymore. If I confirm that young girls are at this brothel, then I’m closing it down with bullets.”
We drove over a small bridge which represented the geographic center of the district. I knew from research that a hundred years ago the bridge was built by the locals. They’d crafted the structure with skill and precision. Each square block was perfectly laid. The arches displayed mathematical semi-circles. Along the edges, there was a handrail of stone carved into dome topped pillars. Eyeing it, I wondered how many blocks it took to build the bridge. How did people, so many years ago, put this all together? And did they know what would become of the place? In this moment of time, no-one in this district had the skills anymore to build such a thing. Everyone starved or had been hooked on drugs.
The shelter was on the other side of the bridge. We arrived within minutes, parking in front of the two buildings that now served as the shelter.
Wow. They did a lot.
When I first bought the properties, both four story buildings had been a dilapidated mess. Graffiti had covered all sides of the properties. And it wasn’t lovely murals. They were gang tags and jutting colorful penises with curse words coming out the tips. Boris explained that the landlord had ceased with investing in any form of renovations. They were cracked brick and far lower to the ground than the other buildings on the block. They had rusty, mossy roofs and when it rained the gutters overflowed. Therefore, no one dared rent out an apartment. Rats, roaches, and homeless drug addicts served as tenants.
Now the buildings were scrubbed clean and back in service. The surrounding fence was now repaired. There were no more cracked or broken windows and the ledges had been painted. A massive mural decorated the front of the building along with small flower gardens near the entrances.
Holy shit. They did all of this in a month?
I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and get a better view of the art.
My driver left the front of the limo and opened the door.
I scooted out.
Max came out next.
Boris arrived, hurrying from one of the vans. “Here we go.”
With a closer view, I studied the mural. A huge white wolf stared back at us and hovered over a small city. A black mouse sat on top of its head.
Boris wiped beads of sweat off his forehead. “What do you think?”
“I’m impressed so far. When I bought these buildings. . .I was sure it would take you all a year to get it back in order. The windows were cracked, prostitutes stood outside, and graffiti was all over the place.”
“And. . .” He pointed to the mural. “What do you think about that?”
“I love the mural. The white wolf is enchanting. What is it about?”
“It’s a famous Tatar legend called, Ak Bure.”
“Tatar.” Max nodded. “What ethnicity is that by the way? I was just telling Em about some Tatar strippers.”
Boris frowned. “The Tatars are a Turkic ethnic group living mainly in Tatarstan, Russia. They speak Tatar, a Kipchak Turkic language. They’re usually Muslim.”
“Are there a lot of Tatars in this district?” I asked.
Boris nodded. “And they’re not all strippers, Max.”
“Hey, man. I didn’t say all that.”
I looked back at the mural. “Tell me more about the mural.”
“In Tatar mythology, Ak Bure is a symbol of unity, nature, and protection. The white wolf protects the town and is the host of the forest. Everyone who shatters the calm of the forest and makes caustic remarks will be punished. The wolf sings about the unity, truth, and love for nature.”
Max pointed to the white wolf’s head. “And he hangs out with a mouse?”
Boris smiled. “No. The mouse was added due to Emily. I guess the artist saw her as the protector of this district too.”
“Wow.” A little uncomfortable, I ran my fingers through my hair. “That’s an amazing tribute. I don’t know, if I’m the protector. Do you know the artist? I want to tell him or her thank you.”
Boris nodded. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Alright we have a lot to get to. Let’s check out the place.” Max gestured to the entrance.
Boris led the way. “My mother is still overseeing the construction, but for now both buildings together house seventy-five homeless people every night.”
“That’s pretty damn good. When will there be more?”
“By the end of the month, it will house a hundred and fifty. The problem is the cots and manpower with clearing out more spaces.”
I made a note to give them more money, but only after all the craziness was done.
Max looked around. “This is dope, Em. I wish we could’ve done something like this in Harlem.”
“One day, we will.”
Boris took us down the hallway. “The kitchen is in the back. In the morning, they eat and then have to head back to the streets. After that, my sister manages a small staff that stacks the cots, wash the bedding, and cleans the bathrooms and floors.”
“God, this is so much work.” I shook my head in disbelief. “I have to thank them for doing this. Not everyone could commit their lives to this project.”
The smell of food filled the air.
People stood in a long line up ahead.
“My mother and sister have blown me away. I didn’t realize how passionate they were about helping people.” Boris beamed with pride. “After breakfast, the cleanup is completed, and the next kitchen staff comes on. Every day soup is served for lunch. Dinner is in the evening.”
I nodded. “Do they need more money?”
“I give them everything that I get, but I’ll talk to my mother. She won’t ask for more from either of us. She’s happy to do this much. And as I’ve said before, in Kapotnya we all know how to make do around here.”
“Well, don’t go roasting cats in trash cans. Let me know what you need. I’m happy to give more.” I took in all the faces waiting in line. Many were young women with children. Most of the men were older. Some appeared in their late seventies. A few sat in wheelchairs or leaned on crutches.
Russia became freezing cold during the winter. Already, a chilly breeze ended this recent afternoon’s warmth. I hoped to be able to bring more people out of the cold and inside to the buildings’ warmth.
“My mother’s in the kitchen. She wanted to talk to you.” Boris took us past the long line of hungry people. Many were dirty an
d unshaven. Some had bruises and black eyes.
What happened to them?
Boris grabbed my attention. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took pictures of the bedroom last night and sent them to her.”
I stopped. “The bedroom? You mean the gorilla?”
“Yes. And the sign that was smeared in blood on the wall. I remembered it from one of my mother’s books, but I couldn’t think of which one or what it was about.”
I widened my eyes. “She knows where they symbol comes from?”
“Yes. She said she would bring the book to me, but I had to keep it secret and not tell anyone but you.”
Max quirked his brows. “We’re talking about the star with the eye in the center?”
“Yes.” Boris walked off.
I followed with a new purpose in my step. I couldn’t keep the chaos from last night out of my mind. Kaz had told me to stay away from any investigating into the cult, but that didn’t mean I had to ignore any information that came my way.
I’m just checking out information, not searching or following these supposed knights around.
We walked through a small cafeteria. People crowded the space, shoveling fried eggs mixed with porridge in their mouths. Others sipped on what I assumed was black tea.
Before coming to the country, I figured Russians were coffee drinkers. They were so rough and burly. I guessed all took a big cup of black muck in the mornings with no sugar or cream. However, Russia was traditionally a tea drinking country. I’d found that most Russians even drank their hot tea with sugar and lemon. Kaz did too, but he also liked a little milk added with his.
We arrived in the kitchen. There, Boris’s mother, Fatuma stirred a large pot of porridge.
Although slim and short, Fatuma’s presence dominated any space that she entered. She had dark brown skin and these gorgeous big brown eyes. Her hair was cut into a small afro.
Today, she wore a black sleeve shirt with jeans.
This was my third time seeing Fatuma. The first time, Boris had to grab clothes to move into my building on Kaz’s property. I rode in the limo with him, just to get a feel of where he was from. The plan had been to stay in the vehicle as he gathered his things. Fatuma wasn’t having it. She dragged me out, made me sit down at her table, sip tea, and eat dinner with them both. That evening, she cooked a traditional dish from her country—Liberia. Located on the west coast of Africa.
Dirty Passions Page 21