But I didn’t hurl it across the room. That was what he wanted. I took a deep breath and placed the duck beside my computer, a reminder to never underestimate him again.
You want war, Gennadiy? You got it.
9
GENNADIY
“She’s watching us again,”Yakov told me mildly. “Your little bird.”
I grunted and poured zavarka into my cup, then added hot water to the concentrated tea and finally a thick slice of lemon. It was noon on a gloriously warm day, a few days after the rubber duck incident, and I was in a plastic lawn chair, stripped to the waist, letting the sun soak into my bones for maybe the last time before the summer ended.
Yakov Beletski was one of the first people I met when my brothers and I came to Chicago a decade ago. He’s in his fifties now and looks more like a college professor than a gangster, with his slim build, graying hair, and gold-rimmed glasses, but he’s run the Chicago docks for almost twenty years, quietly—sometimes viciously—defending his turf against everyone who’s come along. If you want to bring anything through the docks, you talk to Yakov.
He’d become my best friend, and sitting up here on the concrete roof of the dock’s control center with him had become a tradition. My life has become smoothly privileged: luxury cars, expensive suits, and shaking hands with politicians. It doesn’t hurt to remind yourselfwhere you came from and enjoy a simple pleasure at the same time. I sighed and closed my eyes.
“I can take care of her, if you like,” Yakov told me.
I opened one eye. We were both wearing big, aviator sunglasses, and as Yakov leaned forward to take the teapot, I could see Alison reflected in his lenses. She was lying full-length on top of one of the enormous cranes that moved containers around, watching us through binoculars.
It was strange: whenever I realized she was still there, I felt my anger flare and rise. But lately, the anger settled to a kind of warm peace, as if she belonged there. And when I did occasionally manage to slip away from her, the thrill of victory had a coldness beneath it, almost like a pang of anxiety.
She must have ridden her motorcycle to the docks because I could just make out the glint of the sunlight on her leather pants. I wondered how warm the leather would be to the touch right now, like a black cat that’s been basking in the sun. I imagined putting my hand on her ankle, running it all the way up her leg, and squeezing her ass, warm and soft, and then pushing my hand in between her thighs and cupping her pussy as she moaned.
“That won’t be necessary,” I mumbled to Yakov.
“It’s no problem. I can have one of my men waiting for her when she comes down.” Yakov grinned, jovial as always. “He takes her head, one quick twist…”—he mimed it—“krrrk!Then he carries her back up and drops her off the top?—”
“No.”
“—everyone will think she slipped on the ladder!”
“No!” I said it a little more sharply than I’d meant to, and Yakov cocked his head curiously. I searched for an explanation. “They’ll just send another agent,” I said. “It’s easier to keep tabs on this one. I know her face.”
“Mmm,” said Yakov. He dipped his head and looked at me over his sunglasses. “It’s a very pretty face.”
I scowled. “I hadn’t noticed.”
That afternoon, I went with Valentin to pick up the weekly money drop from the Irish. A few weeks before, I’d finally managed to shake off Alison long enough to do the deal with Finn, but it had taken an entire day, with Mikhail driving my BMW as a decoy, to pull it off. Finn had thought it was hilarious that a woman was giving me so many problems.I can distract her, if you like, he’d offered.Charm the panties off her and keep her busy all night long.I don’t know why that bothered me so much. I’d had to stop myself from punching him right in his grinning face.
The drop was at a storm drain on the edge of town, somewhere we were sure there were no cameras. By the time we got there, the sun was low in the sky, throwing out long shadows of the two of us as we walked over to the drain. I kept watch while Valentin climbed up into the huge, concrete tube. A moment later, he was back...but without the two sports bags of cash I’d been expecting. “It’s gone,” he said, his face pale.
“What do you mean, it’s gone?”
“Someone’s taken it.”
Not possible. No one knew about these money drops; we’d been ultra-careful. “Finn must not have made the drop,” I muttered. Which was strange because, even though I hated to admit it, Radimir had been right: Finn was usually reliable.
Valentin shook his head. “He left it there for us. Someone took it.”
“How do you know that?”
Valentin held something out. “Because they left a note!”
I stared at the envelope in his hand. What the ACTUAL FUCK? Who would dare to do this? The Italians? One of the cartels?
I ripped open the envelope and pulled out the card inside. A single one-dollar bill was taped to it.
In case you find yourselfshort on cash.
