Natalia’s still asleep when I leave for New York, but I have her promise that she’ll sleep in and stay in Coynston within sight of the crue bodyguard that’s watching the hotel. Her new phone works, the cable’s turned on, and she has the phone numbers for restaurants that deliver.
Despite it all, New York is farther away from her than I want to be by many miles. I trust my brother to do what he’s said he will, but she’s not his priority the way she’s mine. I think about what a hard-ass Stroviak was at his house. No greeting at all. His reputation for toughness hasn’t been exaggerated, which I grudgingly respect. He was making a point. C Crue started to open the doors of their operation to me, and I left without a word. When McCann reached out, I didn’t pick up his calls. Then less than a day later, I’m in their town looking for favors. Stroviak’s message was clear. He doesn’t owe me a thing and won’t reach out again.
I don’t regret my choices. I was sending a message too. They tried to interfere once too often in my relationship with Natalia, after I told him it was none of their business. From the way Stroviak looks at his wife, I’m betting that in my place he’d have done the exact same thing.
Still, he’s the only brother I’ve got. It would be a shame if I never saw him again. When things are settled, maybe there will be a way.
The temperature’s in the low sixties by midday when I arrive at the bank. Just as Mikhail said, my name’s on the safe deposit box. I show identification and sign in. My key and the bank’s are used together to gain entry to the slot that holds the box. Then I’m shown to a private room about the size of a closet to examine the contents alone.
I set the box on the oak table and sit in a wooden chair that’s meant for someone smaller than me. Lifting the lid, I spot a stack of thick manila envelopes.
I opened the first and find a letter on top. I set it aside for a moment and then open the next envelope. Mikhail’s will is inside. I lean over and start reading.
It goes on for pages. The first place I find my name I learn he left me a million dollars in cash and both of the restaurants. Egorov will be pissed, I think with a smile. Both earn a lot of money, but they’re also showpieces and a key asset in the syndicate because they’re used to launder money.
As I flip through the remaining pages, I stop at a set of clauses where my name is buried again. They’re related to a lost heir, and I’m confused at first. I go back to the section’s beginning and realize it’s about a granddaughter.
If she’s found alive, she inherits fifty percent of his estate and the restaurants, which I can continue to manage for her if we both agree. But if I marry her, we get seventy-five percent of his estate and only twenty-five goes to his daughter. I sit back in the chair for a moment, wondering if I’ve already got his granddaughter. On the surface, that seems too good to be true.
I retrieve Mikhail’s letter. As soon as I start to read, everything makes sense. For a time, Mikhail’s son was living in Russia, attending to their businesses there. He met a Russian girl he wanted to marry, but he was already engaged to someone in New York and to dump her unceremoniously would have caused trouble with the New York girl’s powerful family. So he didn’t tell anyone at first about his Russian girlfriend.
Mikhail’s son was killed in Moscow. Because the girl never knew who he was or how to contact his family, she was forced to fend for herself.
Years later, Mikhail heard about a secret grandchild from one of his son’s friends, but no one knew where the child was. He hired investigators and went himself several times to Russia to look for her.
They learned the reason they couldn’t locate the mother alive was because she died of pneumonia when the little girl was five. The child was shuffled around from place to place, living with distant relatives on the mother’s side.
She’d lived in a couple of remote areas where very few people had outside contacts. On his previous trip to Russia, someone had made an attempt on Mikhail’s life. He’d begun to suspect it was someone in his American organization who didn’t want additional Russians put into the syndicate’s hierarchy. That’s why he went alone to Russia on his final trip. He was only expecting to interact with small town people, not Bratvá. Obviously he was wrong. Someone had a killer lying in wait for him.
There’s a collection of notes and maps. The maps look familiar. And paper-clipped to the bottom page is a small picture of a little girl with big blue eyes who looks to be about seven. I can tell it’s Natalia.
Jesus Christ.
I lean back in my chair, shaking my head. This is why Egorov wants her so badly. It’s not about predatory lust. It’s about greed.
And Egorov managed to find her ahead of Mikhail. He arranged to have her brought to New York and hid her. Did he kill Mikhail? Egorov definitely has dangerous contacts in Russia. He was in jail there in his twenties before he came to the United States under false papers.
I shuffle things aside and open the final envelope. It’s for Natalia and contains pictures of her father, and letters and diaries from her grandmother talking about her son. There’s also a letter from Mikhail to his daughter, explaining why he favored an unknown grandchild over her. Mikhail says that he loves her, but he’s disappointed that she’s so easily manipulated by Egorov and continues to be loyal to him, despite the many disloyal things Egorov had done.
From the text, it seems like Mikhail tried to convince her to leave Egorov and to come and live with him and his wife. Then he talks about me and how he trusts me more than anyone he has working for him. He says he’s confident that he knows my true nature since he raised me like a son. Even though I’m much younger than most of them, if I decide to marry into the family, he wants me to head the family and the businesses.
I tip my head back, the grief returning as a burning pain in my throat. He was searching for Natalia, but it wasn’t just for her sake. He wanted to bring me into his family and legitimize me as his heir. For someone like Mikhail, there’s no greater show of love and respect than this. My fingers shake slightly as I rest my hand on the pages, then I pull myself together and rub my eyes.
The clock is ticking for Egorov. He’s trying to consolidate his power before the will is read. If he can’t separate Natalia from me and bring her under his control, his best and only strategy will be to kill her. Right now, she’s only entitled to half of the estate and her closest heir was his wife. With Natalia and I both dead, he’d inherit everything except a couple hundred thousand dollars paid out to miscellaneous people.
I take my phone out and start taking pictures of the letters and the will. When I have the documents saved, I return them to their respective envelopes and put everything back inside the metal safe box. When I come out of the room, I flag down a bank employee, and we return the box to the vault.
The easiest way to protect Natalia is to kill Egorov. He usually only has one bodyguard with him when he’s out. I’ve never been inside his house, so I don’t know how the security is there. If he had someone kill his wife, he either doesn’t have security cameras inside or disabled them during the time of the murder. If I can get him to think he’ll be able to kill me there, I can trick him into turning them off again. My mind is running through scenarios as I drive. I need time to plan, but I can’t take too much time. He may have assembled another hit team by now.
Egorov’s house is in New Jersey, but as I drive by, I see police cars in the driveway. Yellow tape blocks parts of the front yard. I frown. It makes sense that they’re still investigating and processing the house, but that means Egorov isn’t staying there. I think about the people I can reach out to for information and to arrange a meeting. I’d prefer not to go through the syndicate since those men will likely want to show Egorov their loyalty.
Polasky’s dead, but Vlad might be in contact with his boss. Maybe I can trick Egorov into thinking that I’m scared after the warehouse attack and want to give Natalia to him. He’ll want to kill me too, so he won’t bring a lot of witnesses. I can name Bloodsport as the meeting place, since I know the layout. Thanks to Egorov’s death matches, it’s an optimal site for a murder. There are no cameras, and there’s a cell phone jammer to prevent recordings and live streams. Egorov should see it as a good location to kill me.
My phone buzzes with a text. I glance down.
Stroviak:call me
This time I don’t hesitate. I hit the phone icon to answer.
