“None. Belova’s the one that runs the place. She goes upstairs around eleven, comes back down at five-thirty. Once she’s gone, it’s just the guard at the front desk. Nothing ever happens, so he’ll be glued to his phone. The electrical room is near the utility closet. It’s a side door entry. Left-hand side. You’ll know it when you see it. "
"Anything else?"
"Yes. You’re a ghost in that building. Understood?”
He snorts. "Don’t insult me, Ivanov."
“Glad we understand each other.” I head for the door, glancing over my shoulder. "Tuesday. Two a.m. Don't fuck it up."
"I never do."
By the time I get home, it’s nearly three in the morning. I’m asleep within minutes. My phone buzzes around nine, waking me.
It’s Dimitri.
"Yeah."
"We need to meet. Now."
I already know why but ask anyway. "What’s up?"
"Your father and his fucking Albanian pets.”
I rub my temple. "Alright. Where?"
"Stary Dvor in one hour."
An hour later, I’m in the backroom of a restaurant we’ve been using for meetings over ten years. Dimitri is already there, hunched over a table with a bottle of Baltika nine in front of him.
"Motherfuckers," he says, the second I pull out a chair. “Your father gave away a quarter of my territory. Half of my goddamn operation was out of Novy Kamen.”
I sit across from him. "Did he hand your operations to them too?”
Dimitri takes a long draw of his beer. “Pakhan’s not that fucked in the head yet. No. He called me in yesterday, said it was strategic. The Albanians can move shipments through more secure routes.”
"You believe that?”
“Hell no. I’m losing money. My men are feeling screwed and cash isn’t moving like it used to.”
I let him vent. I understand his problem—or at least, I make it look that way. The truth is, Dimitri’s has the largest crew. If I can convince him that we need new leadership, his numbers alone will force the others to fall in line when the shift comes.
"What about Alexsei and Yuri? They’re losing ground too?"
"Nope. I’m the chosen one.”
“That’s rough,” I say, keeping my tone flat. “What are you going to do?”
“What am I supposed to do? Start a fucking war with the Pakhan?” He looks off to the side, jaw clenched. “That would be suicide."
"Why a war?” I ask, testing his frustration. “If enough people are pissed, it can go quick.”
Dimitri sets his glass down, raising a single brow. "Are you saying I should make a move against your father?"
"I'm saying you should do what's best for your men.”
He studies me then lets out a short laugh. "You’re fucking one to talk. You hate him, Roman. Pakhan might think you want his respect, but he has to know you despise him. I'm surprised you're still breathing after all these years."
"That’s because he knows I’m more useful alive than dead. For now.”
