“You got that right,” Benito agreed. “No need to walk around with a target on your back, man. We’re not the only ones feeling this way either. There’s no way he can fail.” Silence fell between the two friends, until Benito took a deep breath and offered, “So, it’s settled then; we’ll set up a meeting with Escondido and tell him we’re in.”
“There won’t be no turning back though, bro,” Pedro said solemnly. “We do this? Once it’s done, it’s done. Escondido ain’t the type to be played. The guy’s smooth and his enemies never see him coming. We take his side and then try to back out? He’ll make sure we disappear.”
“You’re right. The guy’s a fucking ghost, man,” Benito whispered.
“I don’t want to make an enemy out of him. That son of a bitch stayed hidden for years, just waiting for the right time. Didn’t come out of hiding until he was good and ready. If he’s gunning for power now, there will be no stopping him.”
That was all Roksana and the others with her needed to hear. The two men went back inside the club and Tatiana pulled into traffic and turned the van homeward. They would have a good report for Glazov. Things were going as planned. Escondido’s rise to power within the Sinaloan cartel seemed assured and the Bratva peace treaty would stand. The Pakhan would be pleased.
Chapter Thirty Eight
In the pre-dawn darkness, Vladimira and Yafon didn’t see the bloody mess that had been placed in front of the door. She didn’t know anything was amiss until her foot came down on a firm mass that was just yielding enough to suggest it was flesh of some kind. She nearly lost her footing as she recoiled from the unknown lump there on the store’s welcome mat.
“What the fuck?!” The blood stain seeping up the side of her strappy stiletto gave testimony to the disgusting prank someone was playing on her.
Yafon leaned down to get a closer look at the dead sewer rat that had been left on the sidewalk in front of the jewelry store. “It’s our boy, gotta be. I’m going to wring his fucking neck. He’s a coward, leaving notes and dead rats and not showing his face.”
“Yes, he is a coward. I think I would rather watch you torture him than me poison him. Just look at what he did to my shoe!!” she wailed in disgust as she narrowed her eyes and looked up and down the sidewalk. “This bastard deserves to die slow. This shit is hitting too close to home, Yafon. We need to stop him before he starts giving ideas to other people in the organization. He’s too bold. For him to come around our place of business while we’re inside working? He’s impulsive. Volatile.”
“The only reason he was able to get away with it was because Dmitriy had turned the alarm off while he upgraded the security system. The problem is, we can’t put a face to the guy. We need to find out who Joseph’s friends were—see if there’s any family who could be out for blood. It’s obvious he had a partner -- a brother, a woman, somebody. I need to know who I’m killing. Once I find out who is threatening you, he’ll be dead.”
The matter-of-fact look on Yafon’s face didn’t fool Vladimira into thinking he wouldn’t deliver recompense with a death blow. He had a way of hiding his true nature until the interrogation began and then you knew it was going to be a long night. Vladimira had seen interrogations where a victim was begging Yafon to kill him just so he could escape the pain.
Yafon was a sadist at heart and threatening his woman was a surefire way to be on the receiving end of his wrath. Vladimira could more than handle herself against any foe, but he was still a man and he would take care of her if she was endangered.
“Like I said, darling, make him suffer. He’s beginning to get on my nerves. And he ruined my Jimmy Choos!! That, in and of itself, is enough to kill him.”
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket in elegant Yafon fashion, shaking it out with a sharp flick of his wrist. It was one of the qualities Vladimira loved most about him, how this brutal warrior approached moments like this with an almost courtly sensibility. Swoon…
He bent down and used the cloth to pick the offending creature up by the tail. He threw it and the handkerchief into a dumpster, then returned to Vladimira and looped his arm through hers, hurrying her to the SUV they’d driven for the day.
In even the smallest of matters he was her knight in shining armor. Though she wasn’t one to back down from a fight, it was nice to have a chivalrous man around.
He pulled out into traffic, his Adam’s Apple jerking in his throat. “Your lack of fear in the face of danger is sexy as fuck,” he bit out, his neck flushed.
“Hmm, do tell,” she purred as she laid a hand on his thigh, smirking when the muscles clenched beneath her caress. “People fuck up when they get scared. I don’t have that luxury, love—plus I’m good at compartmentalizing.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Compartmentalization is important, darling. Without it, one overthinks things. We see so much craziness, it’s a necessary evil.”
What could he say to that? She was right. The things they saw were horrendous. If compartmentalizing helped, then you could do what you had to do to survive.
He covered her hand with his and changed the subject, but only after vowing to himself to work on getting better at compartmentalizing. “Dmitriy is definitely earning his money lately. I don’t know what we’d do without him. He’s the best security we’ve ever had and that rat episode never would have happened if he hadn’t had everything shut down while he was doing system maintenance. It’s almost like the guy knew what Dmitriy was doing.”
“We don’t know it’s a guy.”
“I don’t know any women who would touch a sewer rat, so my money’s on it being a man. Sexist, I know, but true.”
“Hmmph. Say that to Natasha or Roksana and see the reaction you get. But regardless, we have a good team and I plan on keeping it that way. I don’t think anybody on the inside is giving him information; I think he just got lucky. He won’t be so lucky next time. This guy’s going to regret the day he ever laid eyes on me. How pitiful that someone can steal from you and then get mad when their partner in crime gets caught and killed. Truly, what the hell did he expect?”
“People often delude themselves into believing they won’t get caught,” Yafon said pensively, “and when they do, they mask their fear behind anger. Amazing how offended someone can get when they’re the ones who started the problems in the first place. Let’s talk to Dmitriy and see what we can find out.”
“Yes, the sooner we find this bastard and kill him, the sooner we can get on with the business of positioning Escondido to take over. Maybe then we’ll get a reprieve from having to worry about our own people stabbing us in the back,” Vladimira muttered. “The disloyalty alone is enough to warrant someone dying. Maybe my brother’s right, Yafon darling. We need to go back to the old ways.”
They exited the car and headed to the surveillance room where Dmitriy, Anastasia, Oleg, and Roksana were working.
Dmitriy started speaking without turning around when they entered the room. “I’m pulling up surveillance tapes to see who Joseph spent his time with.”
“Good,’ Vladimira huffed, catching the attention of a frowning Roksana. “The bastard left a bloody rat on the sidewalk in front of the store and I stepped on it.” She lifted a shapely leg a few inches and pointed her toe to show the shoe to its best advantage.
Roksana gasped in horror when she looked down at her aunt’s shoes. “Wait a minute. He fucked up your Jimmy Choos?! Oh, that fucker’s as good as dead.”
“You know, we think alike, my beautiful niece; I said the same thing.”
That got a chuckle out of everyone in the room.
“There’s one common denominator in all the stills I’ve pulled up on surveillance and the phone records I’ve reviewed,” Anastasia said. “Joseph communicated with a man named Volya quite a bit. I think they may have been masking their stealing with the façade of him working as Joseph’s assistant.
“But Joseph wasn’t high enough on the food chain to
warrant having hired help. He damn sure wasn’t smart enough to have an assistant,” Vladimira drawled, grimacing as she remembered the traitorous bastard. “For him to have this much of a vendetta…it makes me wonder if they were lovers.”
“I think he’s just pissed he can’t ride the gravy train anymore. He had an unlimited source of money and now it’s gone. Money changes people,” Roksana sighed, “especially people with no character. Anybody who would cross their own people isn’t worth the air they breathe. I’m sure Yafon wants to teach this guy a lesson and I’ll expect a front row seat. Sorry this shit’s happening while you’re planning your wedding, auntie V.” Roksana shook her head, disgusted by the thought of the happy occasion being tainted by unwanted trouble.
Vladimira nodded her head decisively as she gazed down at her ruined shoe. “I think there’s really only one thing to be done. We need to put Yuri on it. He’s semi-retired now, but he’s still the best private investigator we’ve ever had.”
“Well, we all know where to find him,” Yafon drawled, closing his eyes as he shook his head.
Roksana and Vladimira met each other’s gaze and couldn’t help laughing as they answered in unison, “The sauna.”
Yuri wrapped a towel around his ample waist and pushed the door open, nodding in greeting at the two towel-clad men who waited patiently as he ladled water over the hot rocks.
When Glazov installed this sauna in the Bratva gym facility, it had been a truly inspired decision. Yuri loved nothing more than to settle in and sweat out the stress of the day. Of course, these days stress was the exception and not the rule for Yuri.
He did not often discuss Bratva matters there, but would, on occasion, make an exception. Today was one of those times. He was meeting with two of Glazov’s closest associates, Yafon and his nephew Oleg. The sauna was where he did his best thinking and he sensed this meeting would be a grim one. What the two men wanted to discuss, he did not know; but he would do anything for his Pakhan.
He took a deep, satisfying breath of eucalyptus-laced steam. A slick sheen of sweat had already blossomed over his sizeable form and bald head as he lumbered over to his favorite wooden bench. He lowered himself onto it with a rapturous groan, spreading his legs haphazardly as he untucked the towel and let the fabric fall to the side. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh and closed his eyes, oblivious to the pained expressions of the two men seated directly across from him.
“Yafon! Oleg! My friends,” he said in his relentlessly thick Russian accent, his eyes still closed, “what is so pressing that you seek Yuri out in the sauna? We have a long history so I make exception for you, but you know I do not like to discuss business when I steam.” He opened one eye and glanced from one man to the other. “It’s my ‘me time’.”
With his eyes closed, Yuri listened as Yafon laid out recent events. He explained Glazov’s desire for Escondido to assume power over the Sinaloan cartel and the need to exterminate Volya for his crimes against the Bratva. For that is how Yafon thought of the situation now, as an extermination of an even nastier rat than the one he and Vladimira had found earlier.
“It is shame, I tell you, how our own people steal and lie against their own. No loyalty. Disgusting,” Yuri declared before leaning over onto one hip and passing gas in an audible burst that jolted Oleg long before the inescapable evidence of the eruption reached his nose. Yuri resumed his deep breathing, either oblivious to or ignoring the disruption to the eucalyptus oil’s therapeutic aroma.
“The Pakhan feels the same way, Yuri,” Oleg agreed, clearing his throat with some difficulty. “That is why we need to settle this matter quickly. It sends the wrong message if we don’t. We wouldn’t want our people thinking Glazov has gone soft because he’s launching a legitimate business venture.”
Yuri rose from his seat and lurched over to the rocks again. Oleg turned his horrified, wide eyes to Yafon while Yuri’s hulking, hairy back -- and backside -- were turned toward them. Yafon frowned at him and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Oleg scrubbed his hands over his face before checking that his own towel was securely tucked in at his hip.
“Oleg!” Yuri exclaimed as if something monumentally important had just occurred to him.
“Yes, sir,” Oleg replied in a low, pained voice.
“You steam?”
“Ex-excuse me?”
“You! Do you steam?”
“Well--”
“If you do not, you really must. Clears the mind and keeps the manhood in tiptop shape.” He turned toward them, as if presenting himself to make his point. “You are married man now, Oleg, this should be of interest to you. Your woman will thank you when she is round with your child. And many years from now, she will still be thanking you – when you let her catch her breath, of course.” He laughed boisterously and turned his attention to Yafon. “And you, my old friend! Babies are no concern for an old stallion like you, but your woman’s pleasure is always important, no? Yes, yes, you must steam. For your woman.”
He reached for the ladle and drizzled another slow stream of water over the rocks, bending deeply at the waist on a powerful inhalation as the minty mist swirled around him. “Now, listen to me, both of you. When you make the steam, don’t use too much water. Now, just as you would with a woman,” he said with a mischievous wink, “you must exercise absolute control to get most powerful response. Am I right?” he asked wickedly as he sauntered back to the bench with his flaccid dick, visible beneath his pronounced belly, swinging freely to and fro against his thighs.
“You will remember Yuri’s advice, yes? Good, good,” he said as he closed his eyes and resumed his immodest position on the bench, a hand braced on each knee. “Now, back to this unpleasantness. When you are Born Bratva there can be no perception of going straight or soft. Of course, Glazov’s noble Bratva bloodline far surpasses any trivial matters such as this.” He opened his eyes, his expression grim as he looked from Oleg to Yafon. “This man either stole or helped the bookkeeper steal. He must pay.”
“Not to mention he’s harassing my soon-to-be bride,” Yafon interjected brusquely.
“Ah, yes, congratulations, Yafon! Quite the catch, the lovely and lethal Vladimira. I will fix this quickly, Yafon, so you can marry. This unpleasantness shall not touch your happy occasion. Now, name is all I need. I’ll have the son of a bitch delivered to you within the week.”
His confidence was well warranted. Despite his eccentricities, Yuri was the best in the business at finding people who didn’t want to be found. He had a nose like a bloodhound when it came to finding people, an innate ability that was unrivaled.
“Volya Kuznetsov.”
“Ha! The surname of a blacksmith—turned to a life of thievery against his own,” Yuri spat in disgust. To turn on a fellow Russian the way this traitor had done was unforgivable in Yuri’s eyes.
Oleg leaned back, white-knuckling the edge of his bench as Yuri stood and squared his shoulders, declaring, “You tell the Pakhan, Yuri bring him this man, no charge. I do this honor for my Pakhan to show my allegiance. It is my gift to him so he may know his people remain loyal.”
His point made, Yuri stretched his arms high over his head before moving his feet far apart and reaching down to touch the tiled floor with the palms of his hands. Upon standing, he grabbed his towel and, despite Oleg’s fervent hopes to the contrary, did not put it back on.
Almost as an afterthought, Yuri asked, “Will you want me to kill him? I do that for free too.”
“You’re a good man, Yuri,” Yafon said. “Yes, if you can take him out, just bring what’s left of him to the incinerator when you’re done. The Pakhan will be most pleased. It troubles him deeply, this betrayal from within. It brings shame to our Russian heritage, to the Bratva legacy that means so much to him. Yes…the Pakhan will be most pleased to know that loyalty still exists. I thank you on his behalf.”
“Of course, of course. So, the incinerator is still up and running,” Yuri asked with a grin as he toweled the swe
at from his shiny head.
Oleg replied with a low laugh, “Oh, yes, he got the idea from the Colombians. It’s a great way to get rid of evidence. We don’t want any bodies showing up later.”
Yuri shook his head and got a faraway look in his eyes. “I never see anyone else keep peace like the Pakhan. You know, youngsters think the whispers about the Pakhan’s supernatural powers are old wives’ tale, but you and I know different, eh, Yafon?”
“Indeed. Once we get Escondido in place, all will be well.”
“Ah, yes, the elusive Escondido. Now, there is a sharp mind. He is what the Sinaloans need, whether they know it or not. They run amok, no order, no discipline, killing each other off. This makes no sense to me. Yes…Escondido is what they need if they want to get…what is the word…their ‘shit storm’ in order.”
“You just take care of Volya and the Pakhan will make sure Escondido takes over the cartel. Your help is most appreciated and will not be forgotten.”
“It is my pleasure to do this service for my Pakhan,” Yuri said, drawing himself up to his full height and showing a surprising amount of dignity for a man who was utterly naked. “Let it be known far and wide that Bratva knows how to deal with traitors,” he declared, the expression in his eyes going flat and cold as he slowly slid his hand across his throat like the blade of a knife.
Glazov listened intently as Oleg filled him in on the meeting with Yuri.
“Oh, man, you’re handing this off to Yuri?” Novak asked with a laugh. For once, his voice held not a trace of sarcasm. Instead, Novak seemed genuinely pleased. “Yuri the Sauna Dweller. He’s one of a kind, that one. I love that guy. Three guesses where you found him.”
“The man lives in the sauna, it’s a wonder he manages to sell as many of the damn things as he does,” Glazov muttered with a shake of his head as he thought of the business he had set up for Yuri years earlier. “So, he volunteered to kill my enemy. This pleases me.”
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