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“How are things proceeding?” Ivan asked. “With your takeover of the organization?”
Lyon took another drink of the vodka, wished it was bourbon. He thought of Kira, of the way she anticipated his every need — in and out of bed, right down to the bourbon she put in his hand when he most needed it.
“It’s going well,” he said, returning his mind to the conversation at hand. “I’ve ordered an audit on every operation, monetary and otherwise.”
Ivan’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s… aggressive of you.”
“Not at all,” Lyon said. “If I’m going to grow our organization, expand its sphere of influence, its profitability, I need to know where we’re starting.”
Ivan studied him. “And what do you propose? For expanding our sphere of influence? For increasing our profitability?”
“Better relationships with rival organizations, for one,” Lyon said.
Ivan’s eyes never left his face. “Like?”
“Like the Syndicate, the Irish, maybe even the cartels.” The last was the most radical. The cartels didn’t have an honor code, didn’t play by the rules. He would save those for last, when he had the other organizations on board, when he had the weight of their leadership alongside his own.
Ivan picked up his glass, turned it in his hand. “And do you think that’s… wise?”
Lyon hoped he did a good job hiding his surprise. It was rare for Ivan to question his tactical decisions. “I do. They all have their specialties, as do we. By combining our efforts in certain areas, utilizing each of our strengths, we can all earn more. Our organizations already run this city — we simply don’t get credit for it. That should change.”
“And what of the traditionalists among us?” Ivan asked.
Lyon smiled at his old friend. “Do you count yourself among them?”
Ivan grimaced. “To a point. After all, we owe our success to the old ways. But that doesn’t mean I can’t have an open mind.”
Lyon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s good, because in our world, in every world, it’s adapt or die. Nothing stays the same, Ivan. You know this. One can either inform the change that will come or be mowed down by it. But the change will come.” He met Ivan’s eyes. “I intend to ensure we inform it to our advantage.”
Ivan’s nod was slow. “I’m sure you’ll do so.”
Lyon wondered if the concern he saw in Ivan’s eyes was a warning. “Speaking of the old ways… have you heard anything about Moscow?”
“Can you be more specific?” Ivan asked.
Lyon shrugged, affecting an air of dispassion. “I got a tip that Moscow may be interested in our organization. It’s probably nothing, but I thought I’d ask.”
Ivan shook his head. “I haven’t heard such a thing.”
“Good,” Lyon said. “Good.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he hesitated, not wanting to be rude.
Ivan smiled. “Go ahead, my boy. You’re pakhan now. Business is business.”
Lyon reached for his phone. The name on the display wasUnknown, but that didn’t mean anything in their business.
He accepted the call. “Yes?”
“Is this Lyonya Antonov?” It was a woman, her voice cool and clinical.
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m calling from the emergency room at Saints Mary and Elizabeth Medical Center,” the woman said. “Is your wife Kira Baranov?”
His heart seemed to skip a beat. “Yes. What is this regarding?”
“Your wife was brought in a half hour ago,” the woman said. “She’s asking for you. You should get here as soon as possible.”
