“Couldn’t it have been an accident? Or a coincidence?”
Leks shakes his head, his eyes still fixed on the window.
“There’s no way to blow up a ship by accident or coincidence. Especially not if you’ve spent your life running the Bratva operations at the port.”
I take a deep breath, quietly sure that there is another explanation. My father couldn’t have accidentally blown up my brothers. Not the quiet, strict man I’ve grown up with.
“If Yuri saw the footage too, I don’t see how you got blamed for it.”
Leks gives a twisted smile, his fists tensing. “Yeah, but the word of two nobody port enforcers against a Bratva Council member wasn’t gonna cut it. Maksim said he’d seen me on the footage. So according to everyone, it was me.”
“That’s so unfair.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
Leks’s gaze flicks over to me, more intense than ever, and that’s when I realize there’s more to the story. He waits patiently until I ask the obvious question.
“Why would my father blow up one of his own shipments?
Leks narrows his eyes.
“I wondered that too. I think I finally figured it out earlier this year.”
He tosses me a file. In the same kind of padded envelope he used a month ago to give me information about Anton.
I carefully thumb through the documents. The pictures are familiar to me, but a little off. I agree with the conclusions of the expert report included.
“Forgeries,” I breathe.
Leks shrugs. “Needed to destroy the evidence, I guess. Someone had been tipped off about it. I told him earlier in the year that if anyone found out about the fakes the entire New York Bratva was at risk.”
I nod my head.
Of course. If there’s one thing I know about my father’s business it’s that authenticity is crucial. Fakes are replaceable, but there’s always a way to identify an authentic painting. They’re irreplaceable, in this business.
“You should let me look at the paintings. I want to see them for myself.”
Leks raises an eyebrow. “So you can cover up for your father?”
“No, I’m good at spotting forgeries.”
I point out a detail near the bow of a ship in one of the photos. “See that? The color on that is all wrong.”
He nods. “We can discuss that… later.”
The pause has an obvious implication. If there is a later. Because Leks isn’t done with his story yet.
His eyes shift away, his posture straightening. As if he’s bracing for impact.
“We don’t think your brothers were sent there accidentally.”
He lets out a breath at the exact moment that I suck in one.
“There was a reason your brothers were around that night. Your father had told them to inspect that ship, on that night.”
No.
“At exactly the same time as the bomb went off.”
