“No.” This comes from Fedor. He lifts his weak head and gives it a determined shake. “Not until after. Not until…”
“After your boss shot him in the back?” Sacha seizes Fedor by the front of his shirt. “And when they realized they’d crossed us, they didn’t feel like finishing the job, so they left him to die on the street like a dog?”
“They wanted him to suffer,” Fedor admits frantically. “Or if he survived, to go back to you, to send the message—”
“Whatmessage?” snarls Sacha.
“That no one is safe!”
Sacha slams Fedor back into his chair so hard it topples and the bloodied man spills onto the floor with a grunt of pain. Gregor quickly yanks him back upright.
“We must act,” Sacha growls. “And fast. The Snake thinks he can make us look weak. He thinks he can make us lookstupid.You—where is your boss cowering?”
“I don’t know,” Fedor cries. “There are too many places, he’s been keeping a low profile lately—”
“Why?” I interrupt, before Fedor gives Sacha another excuse to brutalize him. “What is he hiding from?”
Fedor looks between Sacha and I wildly, eyes huge. “I—I don’t know. I’m no one to him. To all of them! I’m the lowest among them.”
“You still know things,” Sacha says, a warning. “You are still around when the big men speak. Think carefully.” Sacha pulls his pistol from beneath his arm and pins it to the boy’s head. “What do they say?”
“That—that—he’s planning something! Something big! I don’t know what, I swear, but I’ve heard, I’ve heard—”
Sacha cocks the pistol.
“I’ve heard it’s about drugs! In, in Scotland, and I think Mexico? I don’t know the details. Someone said something about buying the Bratva out, about using hidden contacts…”
Sacha’s keen eyes go to me and back to Fedor neatly.
“Buying the Bratva out,” I say coolly. “You mean gangs like this one.”
Fedor nods frantically. “Yeah. Yes. Maybe! He said…” His voice drops off, face pale and sweat-drenched. “He said there will only be one gang left in Russia—and it will be his. A—a monopoly, they said. On crime.”
“Good,” Sacha murmurs, lowering his pistol. “You did good. That was not so hard, was it, hm?” He claps a hand on Fedor’s skinny shoulder. “But you are still in a bad position, Fedor, aren’t you? See, one of yours shot to kill one of ours. Do you think, if I shot you right now, you would survive?”
Fedor shakes his head so hard blood flies from his lips. “No. No. I told you. I’ll tell you anything.”
Sacha looks to me in question, though to anyone else, his expression might look almost blank. I nod:go ahead.
“We’re not going let you go, Fedor, you know that,” Sacha says. “But tell us every place your boss could be, and we will let you live.”
“Yes,” says the boy frantically. “Yes, yes.” Gregor is already recording on his phone as bleeding, terrified Fedor launches into a long list of locations. The first ten or so are Russian, though I don’t know all of them off the top of my head. Others are off shore, in the States, Croatia. Places I had no idea Viktor Desyatov had ever seen.
When he’s done he’s panting, I meet Sacha’s eyes.
“Thank you, Fedor.” Neatly, Sacha fires one bullet into Fedor’s skull. I observe the room: not one of my men flinches.
Good.“Clean it up,” I say simply. “Gregor. Sacha.” They follow me upstairs.
“I should have shot him in the back,” growls Sacha, holstering his pistol.
“I want you at the hospital,” I tell him. “I want eyes on Alexei around the clock, no exceptions. Double the guard—I want men outside in case any of Viktor’s men come sniffing around to finish the job.”
“He wanted the boy caught,” Sacha says, narrowing his eyes at the snowy street beyond the windows. “He was testing us to see what we would do. If we would show his boy mercy like he showed mercy to Alexei.”
“It’s more than that,” I say, trying in vain to keep the black rage from showing in my voice. “He’s proving he has access to us. He’s proving that if he wanted to, he could finish Alexei himself.”
Sacha’s jaw is locked tight as a bear trap. “The information Fedor gave us. It’s probably planted. False lies to lead us on the wrong trail.”
