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“I believe it means something. I just don’t know what,” he says.
I frown, leaning against the desk and examining the unassuming object.
Is this a joke?
“I… I don’t quite understand what you’re trying to get from this,” I say. “Is it supposed to mean something?”
“Yes,” he replies, rubbing his chin and taking another puff of his cigar. “Something terribly important, I’m afraid. I found it in Dimitri’s safe, and I have reason to believe it’s related to his research on Project G.”
Ivan might as well be the one speaking in riddles right now. I have no idea what he’s on about, but if it has to do with Dimitri, I feel like I should know.
“What’s Project G?” I ask, looking at the cotton again.
“Something your uncle was working on. He poured all his time into it when he was getting close to passing, and I believe the work was almost finished. Since you’re already initiated into the Bratva, I can go into further detail if you’d like.”
“Please do,” I reply softly.
He twirls his cigar between his teeth, thinking for a moment before leaning forward in his chair and lowering his voice. “Project G was nothing more than a pipe dream ten years ago. We heard rumors of something developing a chemical compound that could dilute gasoline without being detected by modern methods. A secret way to shave roughly ten cents off a gallon. It adds up quickly when you’re selling in bulk.”
I gasp as I’m hit by a memory of Dimitri, and I explain it to Ivan excitedly. “One night, about a year ago, Dimitri came back from a trip absolutely reeking of gasoline. He said he spilled some at the station, but it smelled like he had been swimming in it.”
Ivan holds up his finger, wagging it at me. “You see, that could actually be useful information. You say he was gone from the house. Do you know how long?”
“Not more than a few hours,” I reply.
“Good. I doubt his laboratory is at the house, then. Maybe all the research is stored elsewhere. I just don’t understand what the cotton has to do with anything.”
“I mean… there’s a cotton farm a few miles out of town. Dimitri took me there once, but he never told me why. He just wanted to hang out there for a little while and look at the crops.”
Ivan’s green eyes light up, and he leaps from his chair. His large hands come down hard on my shoulders, shaking me until my brain is rattling around in my head like loose change in the clothes dryer. “You’ve done it! Lily, you’ve goddamn done it!”
My head is spinning once he lets me go, and it takes a second to steady myself. “Sorry, but what exactly have I done?”
“Project G wasn’t being developed in the house. That much, I’m certain of now,” he replies, his eyes open so wide that I can see the full curve of his whites. “You said Dimitri took you to a cotton farm. Which one? Where?”
“I… I don’t know,” I admit. “It was a while ago.”
“No worries, no worries,” he mutters, dropping back into his chair and reaching into a drawer beside him. He pulls out a laptop and lays it on the desk, opening it and typing in a password so fast that his fingers blur.
“There we go, almost there,” he mumbles, opening a browser and slamming his fingers into the keyboard again. “Maps! Let’s find the nearest cotton farm.”
“Can you find that sort of thing?” I ask, leaning in. “They’re private property, right? Unlabeled.”
“Sure, but you can see which areas are farmland if you zoom out and move around Dimitri’s neighborhood. This lab is close by, probably hidden on or near a cotton farm, possibly one in his name.”
“That makes sense,” I reply, leaning in further to get a better look at the screen.
As Ivan scrolls through the map with the concentration of a man on a definite mission, I find myself distracted by the way he smells, the visceral musk of his body combined with the smoke from his cigar. Even though I just finished him off, I find myself drawn to him again, eager to please him the way he pleases me.
“There it is,” Ivan says, jolting me out of my lustful daze. He points at the map on his screen, zooming in on the image of a cotton field taken from a satellite. “Does that look familiar?”
I shrug. “I mean, it’s a cotton field. They all kind of look the same. Are there any others in the area?”
“Not that I can find,” he replies, zooming out a bit. “No… there aren’t any… But look!” He points to something else on the screen, the roof of a small shack in the dead center of the cotton field. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, weird placement,” I agree, feeling a stir of excitement. “You think that’s his lab?”
“It could be, but there’s only one way we’re going to find out. I suggest you wear something warm, and be prepared to do a bit of walking. We can’t park anywhere close to this place or it’s going to draw attention from passing cars. One police report and the Red Hitters will be buzzing like flies around that place.”
