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“Mikhail,” Roman said, greeting the member of the Two Spies who had agreed to smooth the way for Roman’s takeover.
“You’ve brought your guard dog,” said Mikhail Lavros. His Russian accent gave the words a harsh edge despite the blandness of his tone.
“One can never be too careful these days,” Roman said.
“Indeed,” Mikhail said. Roman waited for him to continue, watching the sea roil under a tumultuous February sky. “Your situation has become messy. The dead men at the grain terminal, the kidnapped woman and her pleading family.”
“Respectfully, you can speak to my father about the kidnapped woman, and the men at the grain terminal too, come to think of it.” Roman paused, reason reminding him to tread carefully with Mikhail. He still needed Mikhail’s support. “There would be no dead bodies there if my father hadn’t chosen to take a hostage.”
“I’d assumed you’d taken steps to minimize your… entanglements prior to initiating your coup,” Mikhail said.
He was talking about Ruby. Ruby was theentanglement.
“It was a last-minute development,” Roman said.
“An unfortunate one, especially for the woman.”
“Yes.” Roman would never forget the way Ruby had looked when Max had shuffled her past the SUV, Roman in the back, watching through the tinted windows, not wanting to traumatize Ruby more by showing his face.
She’d been dirty and emaciated, her feet bare. But worse than that had been the huddle of her shoulders, the dip of her chin, the terrified wide-eyed gaze.
His father had stolen her fire, the optimistic determination that had first drawn Roman to her at the coffee shop.
Igor would pay for that. He would pay for it all.
“I’ve been contacted by our friends in the motherland,” Mikahil said. “They’ve grown concerned — about the size of our coffers and the attention. A police officer’s wife…”
“Ex-wife,” Roman said.
Mikhail nodded his indulgence. “It’s not good for us. Our relationships with the politicians and police are built on certain understandings.”
Roman knew all about those understandings: make sure everyone sees their cut but don’t make them look bad. Don’t give the mayor’s opponent a line of attack in the next election, a reason for citizens to say he’s not doing his job, not keeping the city safe.
“I know.” Roman wondered if Valeriya had made a decision about eliminating her father. It had been almost a week since their meeting outside the spa. Would she sell Roman out? “I’m working on a solution, something that will speed things along considerably.”
Roman’s father would be severely limited without Vladimir Orlov’s money. Fighting would become more difficult without the ability to throw large bonuses at the men, to shore up their weapons cache.
Just as important for Roman was the money Valeriya could inject into his own operations. The money he’d gotten from the theft of his father’s gold shipment was running low.
They were racing to the bottom of their respective piggy banks.
Mikhail stood and looked down at him. “I hope so. If this continues much longer, you and your father will end up fighting a common enemy.”
The prospect of Russian leadership loomed like a specter over the conversation. That was what this whole meeting had been about.
A warning. Time was running out.
“I understand,” Roman said.
Leadership in Russia stayed out of their way as long as two things remained consistent: the money received from the bratva’s endeavors and the lack of attention on their illegal activities.
The Cold War was over, officially at least. Russian oligarchs — many of whom had been in the government at its height — had too much invested in America for American sentiment to turn against them.
And if the breadth of their criminal activity became known, it would.
Mikhail nodded and turned to go, then seemed to think of something else he wanted to say.
“This woman, is she a weakness?”
