Chapter 15
Vadim
The meeting had been running for two hours. The port authority contact had been managed, the northern route adjustments confirmed, the remaining Tolam associates accounted for. Everything that needed resolving had been resolved with the efficiency I expected from these men.
I was no longer thinking about any of it.
The meeting was winding down when I sent Iskra the message.
Me:Be naked and ready in twenty-four minutes.
Delivered.
I tapped the table once.
Read.
I waited.
No response. No bubbles to indicate she was composing one. Just the grey tick and the timestamp and the silence of a woman who had received an instruction and was apparently deciding what to do about it.
“Pakhan?”
I glanced up. Everyone was looking at me. My eyes settled on Konstantin first—the fucker knew, it was written across his face—then moved to Bogdan, who had developed a sudden intense interest in the middle distance and didn’t have the decency to meet my eye.
“You seem occupied,brat,” Konstantin murmured.“Anything on your mind?”
“Anything you’d like to share with the group?” Valentin said, reading the room with the precision he brought to everything.
“Any tips, perhaps.” Ruslan added, a smirk barely contained behind his glass.
I stood with great dignity.
“Yob tvoyu mat,” I said, calmly and without heat, and straightened my tie.
No one was offended that I told them to fuck their mothers. They simply laughed.
I snapped my fingers at Bogdan and walked out.
The night air hit me as I stepped outside—cold, carrying the smell of the river and cigarette smoke and Chernograd doing what it always did after dark. Tikhon had the car at the kerb. Konstantin appeared in the doorway of the club behind me, lighting up, and I flipped him off without turning around. His laughter followed me to the car.
“Where to, Pakhan?” Tikhon asked, with precisely the wrong amount of innocence.
Bogdan punched his shoulder.“Home.”
I checked my phone as the car pulled away.
Still no response.
I looked at the two imbeciles in the front and decided against calling Radovan directly. I messaged him instead.
Me:What is she doing?
Radovan:Cooking.
I frowned at the screen.
Me:Why?
