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“Yes.” Mikhail turned to look at him and Roman registered with surprise that the old man was, well, old. He still had all his hair, but it was completely gray, and Roman realized that in his mind’s eye, he still saw Mikhail the way he had looked in his fifties, his hair black as a raven instead of silver, his face mostly unlined.
Now, Mikhail’s face was weathered, with deep creases around his eyes and a nose that had grown more bulbous with age.
“I can only assume you came because you know the bratva is in trouble,” Roman said.
“And I presume you asked for this meeting because you think you have a solution to that problem,” Mikhail said, turning his gaze to the approaching pier as the ferry prepared to dock.
“I do.”
Roman was grateful for the chaos of their fellow passengers — those departing the ferry for Ellis Island and those boarding it for the return to the city — as he explained his plan to Mikhail. This was a conversation better heard outdoors, with plenty of noise to drown out the details.
He laid it out as simply as possible — the gold that would fund his move against his father, the men who would support them (no names mentioned to protect them should Mikhail decide to sound the alarm after their meeting), Roman’s plan to give his father the choice to step down or be removed.
“This is hardly a foolproof coup,” Mikhail said when he was done. The boat had pulled away from the pier and was moving back into open water.
“As foolproof as it gets under such circumstances,” Roman said.
“And what is it you want from me?” Mikhail asked.
“Cover,” Roman said. “Once the gold is secure, its capital in hand, I’ll need support from the Spies. My father won’t go quietly. In fact, he’ll likely order my execution.”
“As pakhan, that is his right,” Mikhail said.
“Which is why I need someone inside the Spies on my side,” Roman said. “Someone who understands what’s at stake.”
Mikhail’s brown eyes were still sharp. “You fear Russian intervention.”
“We should all fear Russian intervention,” Roman said.
Mikhail studied the city’s skyline across the water. “How do you know they won’t intervene anyway?” he asked. “The son of the pakhan ousting his father? It seems the kind of rebellion destined to garner attention.”
“Maybe,” Roman said. “But it will be less likely with support from the Spies. Once the transition is made — a smooth transition — an announcement can be sent to the motherland that all is well in New York.”
“And if that doesn’t assuage their concern?”
“The announcement will be accompanied by a cash payment — and the promise of a twenty-percent increase in revenue from New York.”
Mikhail looked at him more closely. “And where will this twenty percent come from? As you’ve said, we are nearly broke, thanks in large part to your father’s spending.”
Roman didn’t take the insult personally despite his lavish lifestyle. His father took pride in seeing his family live large. Their image was his image, and he’d insisted Roman purchase the loft in Brooklyn, that Eric occupy a lavish apartment in the West Village despite the fact that Eric was in rehab more than he was out of it.
Roman had been more than happy to spend money the bratva didn’t have. Every dollar spent on their lifestyle had been proof of Igor’s unsuitability as pakhan.
“I have no shortage of ideas to increase our revenue,” Roman said. “Profit will be up twenty percent in the first three months, fifty within a year.”
Greasing palms in the motherland went with the territory, and Roman was more than happy to share the wealth, especially since there would be so much more of it.
“It’s a risk,” Mikhail said. “Not just for you, but for us all.”
Roman smiled. “The devil you know?”
“Any devil is better than the Russian devil,” Mikhail said.
“You and I both know intervention is imminent,” Roman said. “Russia knows we’re broke. They must. And they have intervened in much smaller problems.”
“You’re speaking of Chicago,” Mikhail said.
“Lyon Antonov was close to having the organization under control, had been sanctioned by the Spies as the next pakhan,” Roman said. “Russia came anyway. You could wait, let my father complete his destruction of the organization, but how long do you think it will be before they send someone to bring the organization back under control? And how sure are you that the person they put in charge won’t be an even bigger problem than my father?”
