2249 hours
Valeriy rapped lightly on the front door. After a few moments Marina appeared in her bathrobe. When she recognized her brother she smiled and opened the door.
“Good to see you,” she said, giving him a short embrace. She planted a light kiss on his jaw. “But you always come so late, Valera. If you came earlier, you could have some dinner with us.”
Val shrugged. “I don’t want to intrude on your family time.”
She waved his words away. “Don’t be foolish. You’re my brother. You are family. Besides, Pavel loves you. I think perhaps you are even his hero.”
Good.
“And Sergey?” Val asked.
She gave him a puzzled look. “Sergey loves you, too, silly. You are like his brother.”
“I feel the same,” he said. Like Cain and Abel.
Marina slid her hand into his and leaned her head onto his shoulder. “We were right to come here,” she said, her voice soft. “America has been good for us.”
“Yes,” Val agreed. “It is a place where a man can shape his own destiny.”
“A woman, too,” she reminded, nudging him with her shoulder.
Val nodded, though he didn’t understand. What was she doing any differently as Sergey’s wife in America that she couldn’t have accomplished back home in Ukraine? There wasn’t much difference, other than some luxuries. Not like how his own vista of opportunity spread open for him when he came to this country.
“A drink?” Marina asked him.
“Sure.”
She squeezed his arm and drifted away. Val watched her slim form as she walked toward the kitchen. His sister was a beautiful, pure woman, perhaps the most beautiful woman he knew. Sergey didn’t have any idea how lucky he was to be married to her. Though Sergey didn’t treat her poorly and was very discreet with his mistresses, Val didn’t believe that he was close to worthy of her. Of course, Val knew he would probably not find a man alive that would be worthy of Marina.
So what would she do when Sergey was gone?
The creak of the stairs pierced his thoughts, and a moment later Sergey entered the living room, still fully dressed. That meant that his boss intended to go out, whether to see a mistress or otherwise. Val would have to convince him not to. It was important that he be at home tonight.
“Valeriy,” he said. “You are coming by late again. More business?”
Val nodded. The two men moved into the kitchen and sat at the small wooden table in the corner. Marina put a short glass of vodka in front of each of them. Val smiled his thanks to his sister but Sergey merely grunted and threw back the drink with one hard swallow. Then he tapped the glass with his wedding ring. Marina refilled the glass without pause, then left the bottle on the table.
“Bed for me,” she said pleasantly before kissing both men briefly on the cheek and leaving. Neither man spoke until the creaking sound of the stairs faded.
“What is so pressing?” Sergey asked. His voice was a little sharper than Val was accustomed to.
“The first move is in motion,” Val said.
Sergey considered for a moment. “You mean the black move or the brown move?”
Val suppressed a scowl. He tried to keep his discussions with Sergey somewhat encoded so that anyone listening wouldn’t be able to connect the dots. Their most direct and pointed conversations usually took place outdoors, away from their vehicles, while walking. There was less chance that someone was recording them that way. He knew that he was likely being overly careful on this matter, but the memories of the KGB refused to leave him, so he kept his vigilance. Perhaps the Americans were not so invasive. Perhaps their organization was not yet interesting enough to the police to garner this level of attention. But the vigilance was his discipline and he kept to it, so it bothered him when Sergey strayed so far.
“Black,” he said reluctantly, “then brown.”
He didn’t like this simplistic code-speak. Anyone listening would immediately break out the racial meaning, particularly after the events to come.
“Good,” Sergey said. “And Ivan?”
“The judge set bail at $20,000.”
“For disciplining his wife?”
Val shook his head. “The police officer he fought with suffered a broken ankle. They are charging him with assaulting her as well.”
“Her?”
“The police officer was a woman,” Val said with a shrug. “It is America.”
Sergey sighed, but nodded. “Of course. Who will take Ivan’s place?”
“Ivan is free,” Val reported. “Yuri bailed him out.”
Sergey frowned. “For twenty thousand? That is a steep price to pay for one man’s freedom, brother.”
“We used a bail bondsman. It only cost ten percent.” Val gave Sergey a cold smile. “As I said, this is America.”
Sergey gazed at him for another moment, then returned the smile, just as cold. “I see. Sometimes I forget how easy it is here.” He paused, then said, “Very well. Proceed as planned.”
“Yes, Sergey.”
“But after our second move, I will meet with the leaders of the gangs.”
Val’s desire to scowl grew. Not only was Sergey abandoning careful talk, he was now changing their previous plans. “I thought you decided that I would go to them.”
“I changed my mind,” Sergey said.
“Why?”
“Do I answer to you now?” Sergey snapped.
Val didn’t reply. He wrapped his fingers around the vodka glass and brought the drink to his lips. As he sipped and swallowed, his mind raced. Why the change of plans and attitude from Sergey?
“I asked you a question,” Sergey pressed. He tapped his thick fingers on the table to accent each word. “Do I answer to you now, or am I still the boss?”
Val set the glass on the table. “I didn’t answer the question because the answer is apparent. You are, and always will be, the boss. I answer to you completely.”
“So you say.”
Val gave Sergey a hard look. “You are my brother’s wife. You are my captain. Do you doubt my loyalty?”
Sergey didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I am wondering something, Valeriy Aleksandrovich. I am wondering why the men I talk to speak of their loyalty to you. I am wondering why they all speak so highly of you. I am wondering why they stand ready to do anything for you.”
“Their loyalty to me is based upon their loyalty to you,” Val answered evenly. “They know my loyalty to you is absolute.”
“Is it?”
Val clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed. “Sergey, I will do anything you ask. But you break my heart when you question my faithfulness.”
“I wonder, sometimes, if you even have a heart to break, Valeriy.”
Val didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to show Sergey, or anyone, his secret heart. Instead he pushed back slightly from the table, reached into his pocket, and removed a heavy-bladed folding knife. With a flick of his thumb he snapped the blade open into a locked position.
Sergey watched.
Val placed his left hand on the table. He left his small finger extended and curled the others into a fist. He looked directly into Sergey’s eyes before lowering the tip of the knife onto the table next to the first knuckle of his extended finger. The razor-sharp point dug into the wooden tabletop. “How many knuckles do you want?” he asked, his voice flat.
Sergey seemed to appraise him. Then he asked, “How many will you give me?”
“All that you ask for,” Val answered without pause.
The tension between the two men hung in the air like an invisible fog. Val sat easily, his knife poised above his small finger, his eyes boring into Sergey. Sergey stared back, his expression contemplative. He lifted the glass to his mouth and drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I want the whole finger,” Sergey said softly.
Val shifted the knife so that it rested near the base of his finger. He gave Sergey a meaningful look and pressed downward.