“You got it, boss.”
I hang up with Kolya and get ready for the day. Between security meetings and a portfolio review with our lawyers, the day is going to be a busy one.
Right after lunch, Kolya calls and tell me he is on his way over. He walks into my office and places a file on the desk.
“Here you go, boss. Everything you asked for, and a bit more,” Kolya says.
“Start with the girl,” I tell him as I open the file folder and leaf through the documents.
“Emma Murphy was born in Albany, New York to a Russian mother and an Irish father,” Kolya starts.
“That explains how she knows Russian,” I say.
“Indeed. She went to elementary, middle, and high school in Albany, and her parents lived in the same house up until last year. She attended Cornell and was in their food science undergrad program. Her mother died last year of aggressive cancer, and her father was killed in a hit-and-run auto accident. As of last week, her only living relative, a grandmother, was in hospice at Brookline Hospice Care.”
My heart tugs upon hearing the extent of loss mylyubimayahas experienced, and now her grandmother is in hospice.
“Surely that’s not all you found, Kolya. I know what you’re capable of finding,” I tell him.
“Of course that’s not all I found, boss. Here’s where it gets interesting,” Kolya says as he leans forward and puts his elbows on his knees. “Remember how I mentioned Emma’s father is Irish?”
“Yes.”
“Well, apparently he amassed a large amount of debt with the Irish mob here in Boston.”
“Callaghan,” I say, settling back into my chair.
“Callaghan.” Kolya nods. “Emma’s father owed thousands of dollars to Callaghan, and started having trouble paying it back. Most likely his wife and daughter knew nothing, and most of the money went towards Emma’s tuition at Cornell.”
“And her father was killed in a hit-and-run,” I start piecing together.
“I did some digging into his death, and based on what I found, I don’t think it was an accident. I think her father was targeted for non-payment of debt. It’s not outside Callaghan’s practices to do so.”
“What about her building?” I ask him.
“I already have the lawyers on it to acquire the building. But there’s something else you need to know…”
“Which is?” I don’t like where this is going.
“Emma’s next door neighbor is Patrick O’Brien. He’s is a soldier in the Irish mob,” Kolya answers.
“Fuck!” I yell, slamming my fist on my desk. I pick up the phone and call Dmitri.
“Get to my office, now!” I yell into the phone. He must be somewhere in the house already, because he’s in my office in less than two minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Dmitri asks as he comes in and closes the door behind him. He notices Kolya standing in front of my desk and acknowledges him with a nod. I relay to him the information that Kolya shared moments ago.
“Fuck, man. I knew you had feelings for this girl from the way you were looking at her the other day,” Dmitri said.
“I want someone assigned to her immediately. Send Yuri to follow her and make sure she stays safe,” I instruct Dmitri.
“Ivan, we don’t even know if she’s being threatened by the Irish. It could be a coincidence. She could be in on it and working with them for all we know,” Dmitri says, trying to calm me down.
“Emma ismineto protect. Do you hear me? She. Is.Mine.” Dmitri and Kolya both take a step backward at the tone of my voice.
“Okay, okay,” Dmitri placates.
“Kolya has found way too much for anything to be a coincidence, and you already know I don’t believe in coincidences,” I tell them both. “Her father owed money to Irish mafia, and you know they always collect their debts by going after families if they need to. Last week she was attacked at night, took a beating to the face. Now I find out that her next door neighbor is one of Callaghan’s soldiers.”
