He smiles nervously. He knows who he’s talking to. “Just a chat. Nothing formal.”
Of course it isn’t. No recorder, no partner, no warrant. This is initiative. A man trying to make a name for himself.
“A chat. Chats are brief.”
“Yes, they are,” he replies.
“Then say what you came to say.”
He nods. “Appreciate you giving me a minute.” He shifts his weight like he’s trying to look relaxed but failing miserably. “I know you’re a busy man.”
Buttering me up now. “Go on.”
“Right. So, Barinov Holdings. Public filings show a lot of restructuring going on over the last eighteen months or so. What’s driving that?”
“Growth and planning.”
A quick smile. “Specifically, some of the assets moved under entities with clean UCC histories. Real estate, logistics, that kind of thing. This all tied to the IPO?”
I check myself; a reminder not to underestimate this young man simply because he’s got ambition. He clearly knows his turf.
“Companies prepare. That’s not a crime.”
“Not saying it is,” he says, lifting a hand as if to sayeasy. “Just trying to understand the structure here. Investors like transparency. So does the law.”
The implication is beyond clear.
“All of the relevant information on the IPO is in the prospectus. It’s available to anyone who wants to read it. Including yourself, Detective.”
His jaw twitches, but he recovers quickly. “Okay. But what about the money flow? You’ve got a lot of,” he pauses, searching for a word that won’t end the conversation instantly, “legacy capital. Any concerns about reputational exposure as you go public?”
Another stark implication. Hell, this goes beyond implication; he’s all but openly saying I have access to Bratva funds.
“If you have a specific allegation, Detective, make it. If you don’t, stop wasting my time.”
“Just asking questions, Mr. Barinov. You have a lot of history in this city. Some of it violent.”
“Chicago’s a violent city. Many people who live here have been touched by it in one way or another.”
“You’re right about that.” He glances aside in a practiced way. “Say, I worked a drive-by near your house years ago. No witnesses. Clean getaway.”
There it is. A probe. A test. He’s watching for recognition, some sort of tell.
I give him nothing. If there’s one thing Russians are good at, it’s remaining stone-faced.
“Unfortunately, our city has many such stories.”
He exhales sharply in frustration, slipping a bit. No doubt he was hoping I’d give him something with that one.
He opens his mouth to speak, but I decide I’ve heard enough.
“I have places to be, Detective Russo. If CPD wishes to conduct a formal interview, they are welcome to contact my legal counsel. Until then, we are done.”
I step past him. Andrei follows.
As we walk away, I hear Russo call out, “We’ll be speaking again very soon, Mr. Barinov!”
I don’t turn around or acknowledge his words in any way.
