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“Caught a bit of it.”
“A wonderful show. Far fetched in places but tremendous fun. There’s a scene in it where one of the characters goes to meet up with his old rival and takes him a bottle of choice alcohol. Only the bottle is poisoned and RIP rival.” He lifts the lid off the box and reaches inside.
“This is a bottle of Alexsei’s favorite vodka. Now, I heard a rumor that he’s been off the sauce for a few years but I happen to know that he’s never been able to resist this particular brand. Not made anymore. Polar Bear, it’s called. Not the most expensive. Tastes no different to the other piss those Russians drink if you ask me.”
He turns the bottle around in his hand. “Sealed, so he won’t suspect a thing.”
“You want me to make him drink that?”
“I do.”
“And what happens when he does?”
“Do I have to spell it out? He drinks the poisoned vodka, he dies. You are free. No husband, no ties to the Bratva. You can walk away.”
“I’m taking a risk here. What if he works out what I’m doing?”
“What is life without risk? You want to be free of him. This is the way to do it. Best thing is the autopsy will show heart failure. You will not be blamed. Nor will I. A month later, you will win a prize in an online casino I run and five hundred thousand dollars will be deposited in your bank account.”
“What if I refuse?”
“That would be unwise. But why would you? I know you want him dead. You told me that yourself.”
“Why can’t you kill him?”
“And risk a war that would impact profits? No, gracias. This is far simpler. You will take that bottle to him and make him drink it or I will keep you and put you to work in a brothel in the middle of the desert back home. I am a patient man, a kind man, but I have my limits. Will you do this?”
I look at the bottle and then up at Diego. “I will.”
6
Alexsei
Igor is grinning at me, sipping his vodka. “You should get off the wagon. This clean living thing isn’t you.”
“You know I don’t touch the stuff.”
“You’re missing out. I hear a rumor there’s some Polar Bear out there. Could be yours.”
I fire my gun. It hits the target dead center. I set it down before turning to look at him. “Bullshit.”
“Hey, that’s what I heard.”
“The factory shut down twenty years ago. It’s all gone.”
“Couple of bottles left here and there. Sitting gathering dust in some warehouse or other. Got to surface sooner or later, like a corpse in a river.”
He drains his glass before firing his gun, hitting the target in the shoulder with one and missing entirely with the second shot.
“That’s why you shouldn’t drink before practice,” I tell him, heading out of the range and into the garden. I look at the time.“She should have got in touch by now.”
“You worried? The big bad Bratva man missing his wife so much he might cry? Is that it?”
I glare at him. “Keep that up and I’ll use you for target practice.”
“Hey, I’m just saying you never gave a shit where a woman was before.”
“This is my wife we’re talking about.”
