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My father was an established Bratki soldier, a member of the Russian crime syndicate, the Bratva. He set up an initiation for me. Then he brought me along to help him collect gambling debts. I grew big and strong as he was when I was barely a teenager. He thought it was funny and would tell the subjects that they could fight back after I started with a body shot. He knew if they did try to hit me, I would go berserk like him and mess their face up, sometimes permanently. It was sort of father-son bonding time for us.
The condition that would prevent me from having a kid like Johnny is probably for the best. I volunteer as a boxing coach in the little spare time I can find. People in my regular line of work get married and have kids all the time; it’s not a smart play, though.
“Alright. Billy Boy and Jake, you’re up to spar. Sammy, you got it?” I call out to Sammy Switch, and the boys waiting, passing on the coaching.
“Got it, Josef,” Sam says, and the teens jump into the ring, eager to spar.
“Remember, keep your hands up, and move!” I remind them.
“Josef, whatever happened to Freddy?” Johnny asks as we head into the locker room to shower.
Freddy, a bookie who was associated with the Bratva, would hang around the gym often. He had some training himself and even coached the kids a bit as well. When a boxer showed potential, Freddy would try to get his hooks in him. If the fighter or a member of his family turned out to be a degenerate gambler or otherwise indebted to the mob, Freddy would get them to take dives and bet heavy on the opponents. I didn’t like it, but it was what it was.
“My old chum Freddy got in some trouble with the wrong people. Last I heard, he was hiding out in Jersey somewhere,” I lie to Johnny. “He’s probably moved on from there by now, though. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that Freddy and another coach expected some of us to do things for them,” Johnny says. He looks at the two separated shower stalls. “You never…”
“Freddy and another coach. Sammy?” I ask, surprised as I look at Johnny.
“No, Sammy’s like you. He don’t expect nothin’.”
“Who?”
“Just Jack over at Main Street Gym now. I train there sometimes. I was gonna challenge Jack to fight instead, but Don tried to fight and got his nose broke, and Jack still took him in the shower. He threatened to break Don’s arm real good so he couldn't box no more if Don didn’t go running in the woods with him the next morning. So, I just go with him in the shower when he says.”
I let this news sink in. Freddy is out of the way. My old partner Dmitry and I took Freddy out after he was set up and made to look like he stole from the Bratva. I felt a little bad when we found out he didn’t do it. Now I’m glad I didn’t hold back when I was punching Freddy’s face before Dmitry shot him in the head. I just look at Johnny now.
“I don’t like it, but what else can I do? I need more training time than I can get here so I could make Golden Gloves,” Johnny says.
“You don’t have to do anything, kid. You keep training with Sammy and me. We’ll get you some more time. Stay away from the Main Street Gym for a while.”
“Thanks, Josef,” he looks at me with a smile.
“No problem, Johnny. And keep those hands up!” I say and give the kid a light smack in the head. I’m trying to keep Johnny from seeing how pissed off I am as I enter the shower, and he enters the other stall. Jack the Joker will become my chum, just like Freddy.
The water runs over my body as I think. Nature is a cruel bitch. Guys like Freddy and Jackie are able to get it up and prey on kids like Johnny, while a normal guy like me, normal at least when it comes to that sort of thing, can’t even get half erect for an adult woman.
Even though I’m in an organization known to torture and kill families, I would never hurt, never touch, a kid. Fortunately, my Boss is in line with me on that. Killing or torturing adults who are not ranking members of the Bratva needs no permission from Ivan, though. Jackie isn’t even an associate like Freddy was.
Before giving the Joker a punchline, I need to go to the marina and get my boat, Maximum Splash, ready for a long trip. I also want to check on the new upgrades to go along with the air tank setup I have secured to the hull beneath the water line. The S.C.U.B.A. setup is there in case the authorities catch up with me and I need to make a quick getaway.
A film crew recently finished some stunts on the river with two identical yachts. They blew up one boat, and the other became disabled. I guess it was cheaper for them to disassemble it and sell off the parts and the props too.
They had ten hatches that seal watertight when in motion but open into a diving platform right at sea level. I bought one of those. They even had real torpedoes and a working hull recessable cannon. I'm sure they paid off whoever they had to in order to sell those. I wanted both, but it would take too long to install the torpedo launcher, so I bought the cannon set-up. It might come in handy sometime. Truth be told, I just think it’s cool, though it can only fire its three projectiles all at once. I could use them to celebrate, though the only thing I’ll have to celebrate any time soon is taking over the Bratva. Which will mean the Boss, Ivan Vasilek, one of the few men I truly respect, will be dead.
My cell vibrates as soon as I get in my car. It’s a text letting me know one of my associates, Alec, will meet me at my apartment in an hour with instructions for a new assignment. Alec is one of the two men, second in command of the Bratva. I was going to get a little sleep before heading out. Rest and getting my boat ready will have to wait.
My penthouse apartment is just about as big as the log cabin house my old partner left me after he retired from mob life. Ivan had an arrangement with Dmitry to let him leave the life. D, as I call him, was known as the most ruthless enforcer and hitman in the Bratva. His scarred face and body, along with his six-foot-five muscular frame, is what terrified enemies of the Bratva, and why they called him Vasilek’s Beast. D had a heart, though, and fell in love. I helped set up the beast with his beauty, Daisy. Now they’re married and living happily in another country. Daisy was a sweetheart, and D was someone I actually trusted, a true friend. I miss those two, but I am happy for them. Now it’s shiny blonde hair that terrifies those who cross the Bratva.
I’m considering keeping this apartment as well as the cabin an hour outside the city. The house will be a nice place to get away and relax sometimes while this place is closer to work. There are three heavy-handed knocks on my door that I know well. Alec’s heavy hands confirm I don’t want work coming to my new retreat. I'm definitely going to keep this place.
Alec doesn’t accept my invitation to come inside. He hands me a manilla envelope, looks at it, and then at me. I nod, and he turns and crosses the small hall to get to the elevator. That’s one of the things I like the most about this penthouse, the elevator doesn’t open up right into my place, even though it’s the only apartment on the top floor.
I close the door, go to my kitchen table, sit, open the envelope, and spill out the contents regarding my assignment. The first thing I pick up is a pair of photographs, each of the same woman. She’s not unattractive, but a little bit heavy for my taste. I recognize the name Sonomi the Siren in the white outline at the bottom. Another picture is of Kato Takeo. Katana is the name at the bottom of his picture. He’s a captain in the Japanese crime organization, Yakuza.
There are also a bunch of CDs with smaller booklets and photographs attached. They’re mostly cheesy close-ups of different Asian singers posing in front of microphones. I flip through them until I get to photos of a woman named Marika Yumiko. She’s off to the side of her microphone in one image. Another picture shows her posing in a dark-colored green and red gown. The last pic looks like a professional headshot. She appears to have both Asian and European features, with long black hair and red streaks dyed in, and she is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I linger for a bit before reluctantly moving on to the rest of the material.
Katana is known to me from work already. He owns and runs some of the chop shops downtown, and our organization gets our burner cars from his places. I’m glad I’ll be working with him and not against him, as his reputation on the street is similar to mine. Katana’s nickname comes from his infamous knife, well, sword fights in his case. He uses actual katana swords as well as guns.
