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28
Ivan
It’s odd to be standing at a meeting table with a dozen burly Bratva men and my little Lily sitting together. She looks like a miniature puppet compared to them, but she insisted she didn’t want to be seated any differently than the others.
Everything inside of me is screaming to scoop her up in my arms and run out of the room with her to protect her from this madness, but she won’t allow that. She’s stubborn, just like Dimitri, and she isn’t going to turn around and leave when she’s already gotten her way.
This is going to hit her hard, but there’s nothing I can do. She chose this lifestyle, and she wants to be involved in the gritty details of it.
A projector flickers on in the dark room, and I’m surprised by how clear it shines on the wall behind me. It isn’t until I look at the projector and realize it’s the same old one we’ve always been using that I understand why it’s so clear.
Nobody is smoking. There’s no cigar haze to muddy up the image like there usually is because I banned all smoking from my house for the duration of Lily’s pregnancy and the foreseeable future.
I’ve switched to using nicotine gum to take the edge off, and I see I’m not the only one. Half a dozen nervous jaws are chewing as they look up at me from the meeting table.
I clear my throat, looking toward the first slide and trying to pretend Lily isn’t here. I can’t concentrate when I know she’s listening.
“As you all know, Donovan was at our laboratory with a team of scientists, working on Project G, when the Red Hitters conducted a raid and killed everyone inside. Not only this, but they have taken the research for Project G.”
There are a few gasps from around the table, and I glance over at Lily to see her eyes filled with rage. This is personal for her. Project G was her uncles biggest work, and to have a bunch of wannabe gangsters murder our people and steal the research is nothing less than insulting to his memory.
I change to the next slide, which is a picture of a house at night. “This is the most recent image taken of the suspected residence of one of the members of the Red Hitters. His name is Carson, and he’s a low-ranking patrol member.”
I look around the room, and I see that everyone is already starting to get the idea of what we’re about to do. I’m sure they’re wondering why this hasn’t happened earlier, but I had my reasons to hold back. For one, they weren’t causing nearly enough trouble to make a hit this big, and secondly, the low-ranked member might not have all the information we need to do a proper hit and reclaim the research for Project G.
But we have no other choice. We can’t wait any longer.
“Carson is due for a rude awakening tonight around two in the morning, when we will raid his home and get the location of the Red Hitters by any means possible. Nothing is off the table at this point,” I continue.
There’s silence, but I can see some satisfied faces in the crowd.
I click over to the next slide. “Alright, so if we’re able to gain information about the location from Carson, we’re going to dispose of him and take a team of no fewer than a hundred mercenaries on our own little raid. Our goal is to wipe them out entirely, pay off as many politicians as possible to keep the news quiet about this, and recoup the lost funds by finishing the development of Project G.”
A hand goes up at the table, and I’m relieved to see it isn’t Lily.
I point at the hand. “Go ahead.”
“How far along is Project G, and what is the earning potential?”
“Fair question,” I mutter, moving to the next slide. “From what we understand so far, we could be weeks or even days away from finishing the research. The earning potential is in the trillions.”
“Trillions?” Everyone in the room looks stunned.
I nod. “Yes, but we will have to ramp up to that amount. We start at millions straight away, move into billions within a few years, and eventually, we’re rolling in more money than we know what to do with. Everyone gets their fair share, and we all go home happy.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” the man at the table says, his hand still raised. “How sure are we that we’re going to pull this off?”
“It’s fair to have doubts,” I reply. “But I can assure you that the risk is worth the reward. We have no better options than to pursue this with everything we have. It’s bank or bust, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t like the bust part. Whose pockets is this coming out of if your plan fails?”
I’ve about had it with his backhanded questions, but I understand I won’t win over the crowd unless I’m able to answer them confidently. There’s a time and a place to shut down rebellious voices, but in the situation like this, it’s better to address them with logic and reason.
Everyone is probably already thinking what this man is asking. He’s just the only one brave enough to speak up.
“The bust part, as you put it, is inevitable unless we take action,” I say, turning off the projector and crossing my arms over my chest. “The Red Hitter police group was formed with the sole intention of tearing down the Bratva. They’ve received more funding and apparently permission to cross lines that normally aren’t crossed by low-level government organizations.
“In the beginning, they weren’t that big of a threat, but they’ve gotten too bold, and that means they must be dealt with, or we risk defeat at their hands. Now, I’ll ask a question… How many of you want to have everything you’ve ever worked for taken away by a handful of amateur cops? Raise your hands.”
