“I’m just leaving The Firebird.” I don’t like the urgency in his voice. “What’s up?”
“We have a problem. A big one.”
When one ofmy men tells me that they’re with Iggy, then I know something’s gone terribly wrong.
I arrive at Iggy’s apartment complex a few minutes after Mikki’s call. The place he lives in is a hovel, broken and boarded-up windows in spots, flaking paint filled with lead in the hallways, and flickering lights. For years, Maksim had been trying to get him to move out and into a better place, but he’s refused every time, usually saying something like, “Who else would tolerate the noises that come from this apartment when one of your soldiers fucks up?”
I get to his door and knock. It’s made of heavy metal, which one would think would insulate the noise inside. It doesn’t really. I can hear moaning and shouting as I stand here.
The door opens and it’s Iggy’s daughter, Sara. She’s a twelve-year-old with a Betty Page style haircut and a Misfits T-shirt. She looks at me with cold, dead eyes that have seen things that twelve-year-olds were never supposed to be exposed to.
“Hey,” she says. “They’re in the kitchen.” She steps aside to let me in.
The apartment is like one continuous room. As I walk into the living room, I turn a corner and I’m facing the kitchen. One of my soldiers, Abram, is lying on the kitchen table, his face pale and clammy, while Iggy leans over his chest, bloodied tools in his gloved hands. Mikki’s leaning against one wall with his arms crossed, staying out of the way.
“Did you get it yet?” he says through clenched teeth.
“If you don’t stop squirming,” Iggy says calmly, “I won’t be able to get it at all.”
“What happened?” I ask Mikki. Mikki glances over at me to answer, but it’s Iggy who speaks up.
“I heard you’re the new head of the family,” he says without looking up. “That mean you can’t greet anyone properly anymore?”
“Evening, Iggy,” I say, then to Mikki, I gesture to him for an answer.
“The deal with Ponti’s people was tonight, as you are aware. Right after we made the exchange, we were jumped.”
I frown. “Ponti double-crossed us?”
“No, it was Amur’s people.”
“Shit.” They’re moving fast. First, they kill Maksim in an effort to destabilize us, then they raid one of our arms drops. “They get anything?”
Mikki shook his head. “One of the bullets caught Ponti’s driver in the neck. He was done for, so Abram grabbed his ride and sped off with the guns.”
I look over at Abram, who is still flinching away from the pain that Iggy’s inflicting on him at the moment. “He the only one to make it?”
Mikki nodded. “Yup.”
Abram lets out a strangled yell as Iggy finally pulls the bullet from the wound. He tried to twist away, but Iggy had a hand on him, pressing him back down to the table. He quickly sets the bullet aside and presses gauze on the oozing wound. “Lie still, dammit.”
“Are you sure this was the Amur?” I ask Mikki.
“Ask Abram about it. He’ll tell you.”
I approach the table and Iggy takes a step back, glancing up at me as he turns to his tools sitting on the counter. “Did you see who did this?”
Abram is still wincing from the pain. Through clenched teeth, he says, “It was dark, but I did see one of them had a Russian ‘A’ tattooed on his arm. It was the Amur.”
I nod. So, they’re openly attacking us now. I turn to Mikki. “We need to strategize. Tomorrow night, let’s meet.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turn back and Iggy is handing Abram a bottle of vodka. “Drink up,” he says. “And keep pressure on that wound.” He walks away from the table and turns on the stove, setting a fireplace poker in the flames. I walk around the table to him.
“I need to go,” I tell Iggy, then reach into my pocket for my money clip. “Make sure he’s taken care of. And if he tells you or you hear anything else about this, call me.”
I take about a thousand dollars from my clip and stuff it in his shirt pocket. Iggy nods. “Will do.”
