"This is impossible," I say. "Our accounting department is excellent. That's how we found this discrepancy."
"Here is problem," he says miserably. "Those totals are from the number is given to you by the Zaitsev Firm, correct?"
Trakhni menya,fuck me.
"What are you telling me, Yevgeny?"
"There is systematic draining of funds on six out of twelve divisions the Zaitsev handles for you." His head is lowered, as if waiting for me to strike.
"Can you isolate who in the firm was responsible for the affected projects?" I say, my voice, deadly calm.
"I have. Efrem Zaitsev handles those accounts."
I look over to Kir. "Find out where Efrem and Adam are. Don't alert them yet." He nods, leaving the room. "Yevgeny, thank you for this."
"You do not have to thank me, Sir. I know this is bad news."
"It was exactly what you were brought here to do." My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. I can feel my demon beginning to coil and withe. "If you would like to stay, I would be pleased to have you join the U.S. branch of the company here in New York."
His eyes light up and there's a huge smile before he quickly extinguishes it. "Da, spasibo,Sir." He pauses awkwardly. "After you address issue."
"Get some rest," I say. "Go home."
Kir meets me in the hallway with a frown. "Both Adam and Efrem are at their office building right now."
I check my watch. "At 9:30? Let's go. I want four more men surrounding any exits in the building, one on either side of the firm's floor."
Staring blankly out the window of my Bentley, I watch New York flash by in ribbons of neon. I haven’t seen or spoken to Adam since that day. We didn't attend Ilya's funeral, of course. Myparents sent a donation to the Midtown Manhattan Foodbank, where Adam's mother was on the board of directors. The money was returned at her request.
This will be the final blow.
The elevator ride up is silent, and I pause for a moment in the entryway, smoothing my hair back and straightening my tie. In the reflection of the mirrored elevator doors, my eyes are alien, even to me, blank and pale.
The front doors of their office are open. The reception desk is empty, and the entire floor is dark. I jerk my head at Demid. "Spread out. Make sure no one leaves. Check every office."
He nods and slips away like a wraith as I step into Adam's office, knocking on the open door. He's sitting at his desk, staring at nothing. I remember he'd been so proud when he got his desk after being promoted to CFO. He called it his, 'fuck you, I'm in charge desk,' his seat of power. I'd been forced to listen to his research on three different kinds of exotic wood before picking the African ironwood for his corporate throne.
The desk is clear of everything but two vodka bottles, one empty, one halfway there. And a gun, sitting precisely in the center of the desk. "Hey Dmitri," he says. "Want a drink?"
"Not right now." I step carefully into the office. The gun isn't within Adam's reach, but if he lunges for it, he could grab it before I could get across the office.
He looks down at his drink. "So, I guess you got the news, huh?"
"What news are you talking about, Adam?" Three more steps towards the desk, he hasn't moved.
"My father," he says bitterly. "My fucking father. That dead doctor wasn't the one that introduced Ilya to the trafficking ring. It was my fucking father."
A rush of breath pushes out of me, leaving my chest empty and aching. Four more steps and I'm in front of the desk. I lean over and take the gun away, pulling out the clip. It had been recently fired, three bullets gone.
"The money you're missing," he says, laughing harshly. "My father's been panicking, building up a little nest egg, you might say."
"How did this happen?"
"He got mixed up in a bad crowd," he says mockingly. "Remember when our parents used to tell us that? 'Hey, you don't wanna run with a bad crowd, that reputation follows you'."
"Well, Iwasthe bad crowd," I shrug.
"No Dmitri, never you. But it's something he'll never be able to hold over my head again, is it?" He laughs a little wildly, taking another drink. His eyes are glassy and the stench of vodka rolling off him is overwhelming.
