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The Don been placed immediately opposite the Pakhan with Nikola, the Underboss, and Felinus’s uncle Vinny on the same side facing the Spies and Felinus, Brutus, and Lucio facing the Pakhan’s boys and Fritz to complete the table of fourteen.
“Don Esposito,” Volkov replied, taking Espoito’s hand in a firm grip. “I am glad to hear this though I am confused. I was told that two of the Family’s soldiers picked up the boy this afternoon. The description matches the Cat’s men. This is not what we had discussed.”
“SÌ, it was not,” Esposito said, as he and Volkov both sat, the rest of them following a heartbeat behind. “But I did not have all the information at the time of our discussion and, I am afraid, neither did you.” He waved his hands gently as Volkov’s expression hardened. “I do not mean for it to sound like you have been misled or lied to, mio amico. I know that what you have been told, from the perspective it was told, was the truth, but you and I both know that there are times when the truth is just an honest man’s perspective of a lie. Pray, tell me again why it is you believe the Cat has poached?”
Volkov studied Esposito for a moment but Felinus noticed that Adrian’s eyes were on his little brother and that Dimitri had gone red around the ears. At the very least, Esposito calling Dimitri an honest man could be both a compliment and an insult at this particular table. The youngest Volkov didn’t seem to know which way to take it.
“The boy lives and goes to school in the Russian Ring,” Volkov said, “and has stated that he does not desire the attention he is receiving from the Cat following some sort of encounter that he was of the belief was to remain a singular event. Yet the Cat still comes around, pressures him into gifts and to leave with him when the boy stated he wanted to be left alone. Perhaps not poaching in the letter, but behavior that we all agreed would not stand when the Treaty was written. I believe you were the most vocal on that point, Staryy drug.”
“You are correct, vecchamico,” Esposito agreed with a nod. “But the boy does not live in the Russian Ring- at least, not exclusively, and the Cat’s and Issac’s relationship is far more complicated and dire than can be perceived from the perspective this information was given to you. Gatto, the papers.”
Felinus opened one of the envelopes Snake had given him before he left the apartment that afternoon and set them carefully in the middle of the table between Volkov and Esposito. “These are copies of sign-in sheets for shelters on both sides of the Italian-Russian borders for the last six months,” he said calmly. “They are all dated and his name is circled for your benefit.”
Volkov’s brow wrinkled immediately as he looked down at the papers. The Spy closest to him reached over to take the top sheet with a frown and Adrian took the next. He murmured something in rapid Russian to Dimitri as he passed him the paper; the only word Felinus caught was “Districts.”
Dimitri responded, also in Russian but louder and stressing the name of the apartments Issac had claimed to live in for the last five years.
“He lied,” Felinus said, keeping his eyes on Adrian. “He never lived in the Districts. My people looked. He did put an application in his last semester before he moved out of the dorms, but he never signed a lease. The cost was too high for him and he decided that not having to pay rent or utilities was worth the instability of not having a consistent roof over his head.” He took out the next stack of sign-ins and set it on top of the other papers. “Soup kitchens and food pantries. A bit easier to track in the two years he was in the dorms, but they became increasingly sporadic as he began sacrificing food security to continue his focus on school and the costs involved, though he again showed no care to which side of the border he was on so long as it was close by.” He took out the third stack. “Work history for the last five years is the same pattern, including the recent employment in one of the Family’s businesses that ended just before the fall semester. He broke a window latch so he could return when the weather turned cold to avoid having to pay for shelter. Where I found him Monday night.”
“No,” Dimitri snapped, the sign-in sheet a crumbled ball in his hand. “No, you’ve made this up!”
“Bratishka,” Adrian hissed, grabbing Dimitri’s arm while Fritz put his hand on the other.
“Issac is a gifted liar, young Volkov,” Esposito said in the same gentle tone he often used when talking to children who didn’t know better. “I am sure he has his reasons for telling such lies. I understand the frustrations. He could not tell you how all of this happened without admitting to his lies-”
“Issac doesn’t lie to me,” Dimitri shouted causing several hands to flinch.
Felinus leaned forward, his hands resting on the table as he stared Little Volkov down. “Issac lies to everyone,” he said calmly. “About whatever he thinks he needs to to keep people away and allow him to continue studying and moving towards his goal. You are not special. No one is special. He would have lied all the way to his grave if I had not stepped in.” He took out the stack from the last envelope and set down the medical records from earlier that week.
The Pakhan’s brow twitched as he touched the papers at last. “He is sick?”
“Severe malnutrition and all the nasty things that come along with it,” Esposito said, shaking his head. “I have looked at the records myself. If the Cat had not stepped in when he had, as he had, it is very likely that Issac Maus would not have lived to see Christmas, not with the weather this year. I have no doubt the boy said he didn’t want the Cat’s attention or help- just as, I am sure, he has turned down your son’s many generous offers to help him in the past. But he won’t simply accept it. So yes, the methods Gatto uses appear far harsher and crueler than they truly are because Issac is stubborn and private and does not know how to turn to others for help or how to accept help when it is offered.”
“What of his own family,” Volkov said, looking up from the records to Esposito. “Do they not help him at all?”
“Issac has told Gatto that he was placed in foster care at the age of ten until he aged out at eighteen,” the Don replied. “His age places this right around the end of the war.”
“A Casualty Orphan.” Volkov leaned forward suddenly. “How was he not caught? What Ring is he from?”
Esposito shook his head. “This we do not know. Those records have all been sealed, as is the way these days, to protect his future from his past.”
“Has he told you,” Volkov asked, turning to Felinus. “If one slipped through there may be others to find in that same area. It must be corrected.”
Felinus shook his head. “Issac will not speak about his past in any more detail than he thinks is necessary. I only know that he was in the foster system because he thought it important to explain how he was put in a position for an act of violence that he suffered five years ago, an act Little Volkov is aware of that caused a…” he glanced at Dimitri, “disagreement between the two of them last night.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched and Felinus guessed that he knew exactly what violence Felinus was talking about. No doubt Dimitri had told his big brother about it the very day it happened.
Also no doubt, he thought as Adrian’s eyes turned to Dimitri, that he wasn’t told about the fight Dimitri had with Issac last night.
“Does he understand what you are, Kot,” the Pakhan asked, either not noticing or ignoring his sons.
“He does,” Felinus said, prepared for this particular questioning. “I was not doing honest work when he stumbled into my building the other night. He takes it all in stride.”
The older Russians all narrowed their eyes, no doubt guessing, as the Family had, that Issac was not from an honest family for him to take something like potential murder, certainly torture, and kidnapping “in stride.”
“Things slip through the cracks, veccamico,” Esposito said to Volkov. “I am sure we will learn how we missed one in time but let us not fight over him. We should be glad that he has made it this far on his own two feet. Now he needs friends to help him over the finish line. The Family is prepared to support Gatto with his care, to make sure his final year of school is done in the safety and warmth of our embrace. But you know what they say about a village…”
The Pakhan’s fingers drummed slowly over the thick stack of papers in front of him. “I have known of Issac Maus for seven years now,” he said finally, not looking at anyone in particular. “After my boy came home with excitement to tell me that with Issac’s tutoring, he had passed his classes with flying colors after I foolishly allowed him to take a year off to visit the Motherland. The person I came to know from his lips is a smart young man with many walls and no time for nonsense or fun. I have never seen him in person, despite my insistence that he be invited to events of an honest nature, and the handful of photos I have seen were poor at best as my son claims he does not like his picture taken.” He tapped at the medical records. “But to know now that he became this sick under our noses fills me with shame. To know that he is a Casualty Orphan that slipped past us only deepens this shame. Perhaps it was only the sharp eyes of a cat that could ever see the danger he was in.” He tapped the papers again, studying them for a moment. “We retract our claim-”
