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The hushed voices of my mother and father came to me through the thin walls of my room. They were having an argument. It was rare for them to fight, so rare that I pricked up my ears. That’s when I heard them—those names.
Stefanov and Pavlov.
My mother whispered them frightfully. My father replied in a soothing tone, and when he repeated the names, his voice was harsh. A moment later, the sound of pots came from the kitchen where my mother was making solyanka for dinner, and the smell of my father’s cigarette reached me from the balcony.
Eager to know Batman’s fate, I went back to my reading.
The ping of my phone brings me back to the present. I pick it up and check the screen. It’s the head of the cleaning team, letting me know the job is done. Vadim’s body should be discovered not long after daybreak when his cronies come to collect the goods for their daily deliveries. Stefanov will get my message soon.
Good. I can’t wait.
Drumming my fingers on the desktop, I knock back the rest of the vodka. The alcohol slips smoothly down my throat, warming my stomach and loosening my tense muscles. Why did my parents fight about two bratva bosses? My father was a high-ranking police officer. He never discussed work at home, at least not when I was around. Was he a bought man? Did Stefanov or Pavlov own him? Is that why my mother was upset? Because he’d sold information to them? I can see how that would’ve upset my mother. She was a good woman, a humble person who believed in right and wrong. Corrupt cop is not the image I have of my father, but I was just a kid. I was more interested in forbidden pop culture and in saving enough money for a skateboard than I was in my father’s job.
Unable to think about my parents without experiencing the pain that tears my heart out of my chest, I push the nostalgia aside.
How do the dots connect? Is there a link between my parents’ conversation and the events of the last couple of months? What’s the likelihood of the same names popping up then and now? Stefanov paid Vadim to kidnap Katerina. Did he also pay the man who stole her key card? It’s a logical deduction. That means Stefanov most likely paid the assassin who tried to kill me. But why? What does it have to do with my parents, if anything? How does Oleg Pavlov fit into the picture? His meetings with Stefanov around the time of the attacks on Katerina and me could be a coincidence—it’s very likely that the two bratva bosses do business together—but the fact that my father mentioned them both raises a big red flag.
I don’t have the answers, but I will find them. And when I do, I’ll make Stefanov and every man involved in his scheme pay.
Firing up the encryption app, I send another message to Adrian, instructing him to keep sniffing for information on Stefanov and to do the same with Pavlov. I put a handsome sum of money for bribing informants at his disposal and log into my bank account to pay him for the job he’s done. Nothing motivates like prompt payment. He’ll drop whatever else he’s working on to get me the information I need.
The earlier adrenaline has yet to work itself out of my system. I’m too hyped up to be able to sleep. To use the time productively, I take care of the red tape surrounding Katerina’s leave of absence. Once all the paperwork is out of the way, I schedule an email to be sent to Joanne at a reasonable time in the morning, asking her what time is convenient for Katerina to videocall her. I might be ruthless, but I’m a man of my word. I said my kiska could have a reward if she behaves, and now that she knows there’s no way out, she’ll behave if it means that she can speak to her friend. Call it manipulation, but I’m not forcing Katerina’s compliance to make my life easier. I’m doing it for her. The sooner she adapts to her new situation, the sooner she’ll be happy again.
I’m not optimistic about uncovering anything via the hospital security camera tapes. Nevertheless, I log into the real-time workflow to check on the team’s progress. As I expected, they haven’t found anything. Hopefully, I’ll learn more soon, either from Adrian or the man I’ve put on Stefanov’s tail.
I type a command, telling my security chief, Nelsky, to shut down the search and instead focus on obtaining information on Stefanov and Pavlov’s personal and professional operations. I want the blueprints of their homes and their offices. I want to know how many men they have on site and with what weapons they’re armed. I want to know how many kids they have, where they go to school, where they keep apartments for their mistresses, what cars they drive, and what their wives eat for breakfast. I want to know everything right down to the brand of their underwear. I want to know their strengths but mostly their weaknesses. I want to know where their protection is breachable. They may seem untouchable, but if you look hard enough, you’ll always find a vulnerability.
