Fyodor opens the folder and pulls out the crime scene photos while Lev leans over to look at them. The images show Yakov Volodin's body crumpled against the brick wall with blood pooled beneath his head. His face was almost entirely gone fromthe shot at close range. It's not a pretty sight, but these men have all seen worse.
"Who was he?" Vadim asks without looking up from the photos.
"Yakov Volodin, a former Kozlov crew member who'd been skimming from them for years." Tatiana walks back into the room and offers cigars to Lev, who waves her away. "He came to me eight months ago offering to sell information about Kozlov operations in exchange for protection and money."
"And you took him up on it?" Vadim passes the photos to Fyodor who studies them more closely. "How good was his intel?"
"Very good. He gave me details about their smuggling routes, their connections to the Balkan network, and information about who was still loyal to Malcom after we took out most of their leadership. He was the only true Kozlov left…" I accept a cigar from Tatiana when she appears at my elbow, and our fingers brush briefly when she hands it to me. "The information he provided helped us stay ahead of their movements for months."
"So, what happened?" Vadim takes one of the cigars that Tatiana offers and lets her light it for him. "The Kozlovs figured out he was working for you?"
"Yuri and I think they figured out he was a double agent, but I don't think they knew he was specifically feeding intel to us." I sip my whiskey and watch Tatiana retreat back toward the bar cart. "My guess is they discovered his skimming and put enough pressure on him that he narked on himself. Once they knew that, they hunted him down and executed him."
"On your property." Vadim's eyes narrow as he purses his lips. "They chose this location deliberately to send you a message."
"Exactly." I set my glass down and slide the cigar into my pocket. "With our enemies falling the way they have been, things should be easing up. But this execution draws attention to the casino that we don't need. If word gets out that a Mob-related hit was done on Gravitch property, it'll bring suspicion we can't afford right now."
Fyodor taps ash from his cigar into the ash tray in the center of my table and shakes his head. "Have the police been asking questions?"
"They took statements from staff who were working that night and collected evidence from the scene." I glance at Tatiana who's moved back to the bar cart and is straightening bottles that don't need straightening. She's acting more nervous now, avoiding eye contact, acting like she wants to leave the room again. "So far, they haven't connected Volodin to us directly, but that doesn't mean they won't keep digging."
"What about witnesses?" Lev asks while exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. "Did anyone see the actual execution?"
"Not that we know of." I watch Tatiana's hands still on the bottle she's holding and notice the way her shoulders tense. She's agitated, growing stiffer every time one of my men asks a question. "I left our opening there…" I flick a glance at Fyodor, who knows the reason a door would be left unobserved. He nods his head and takes a drag from his cigar. It's definitely an inside job.
Every time I tell this story, it becomes more obvious. The Kozlovs have no knowledge of our inner workings, and neither did Volodin. Only the employees who walk in and out of that entrance knew we have no camera there. Someone who paid enough attention to try to pull a fast one on us actually noticedno cameras and blabbed their mouth. Someone who works for me, most likely.
Vadim leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "So we're looking at a potential mole in your operation plus increased police attention plus the Kozlovs getting bold enough to operate on our territory. That's a problem."
Nothing gets past them. I don't even have to articulate my concern, and it's like they read it on my face the way I'm reading Tatiana's fear all over her body.
"That's why I called this meeting." I stand up and walk around the table toward where Tatiana is still fiddling with bottles on the cart. "I need to know what you've heard about Kozlov movements since you got back from Serbia. Are they working with the Balkans or the Veche family? Are they planning something bigger?" I ask Vadim.
"I'll reach out to my contacts and see what I can find out." Vadim watches me approach Tatiana, and I can see the curiosity in his expression. "But if they're desperate enough to partner with either group, we need to be ready for coordinated attacks."
I stop behind her, and she jumps slightly when I put my hand on her lower back. "Gentlemen, excuse me for a moment while I handle something."
Lev grins and exchanges a look with Fyodor that suggests they both think they know what I'm doing. Vadim just shakes his head and reaches for the whiskey bottle to refill his own glass as he rolls his eyes.
I guide Tatiana toward the bar in the corner of the living room where I keep the vodka chilled. She's trembling badly enough that I can feel it under my palm. Something has really gotten herscared and worked up. "You're making my guests uncomfortable with how nervous you are."
"I'm sorry." Her voice comes out barely above a whisper. "I'm trying to do everything right, but I've never served in private meetings before."
"I know you're nervous because I forced you into my personal sphere." I pull a bottle of vodka from the refrigerator and grab two shot glasses from the shelf. "But I need you to calm down and act natural around these men. They're not going to hurt you, but your anxiety is making them wonder why you're so on edge."
I'm wondering why she's so fucking on edge. She's acting like it’s her first day on her first job ever. And talk about the body out back isn't new. She worked last night. Surely, she heard the ruckus and gossiped with everyone here.
I pour two shots and push one toward her. "Drink this. It'll steady your nerves."
She stares at the glass like I've just offered her poison. "I'm working. I can't drink on the job."
"You can if I tell you to." I pick up my own shot and down it before refilling the glass. "I need you calm and collected when you're serving my guests. If drinking while you work is what it takes to keep you steady, then that's what you'll do."
She picks up the shot glass with a shaking hand and throws back the vodka in one quick motion. Her face screws up at the taste and she coughs once before setting the glass down hard on the bar. "Another, then…" Her eyes roll at me and she avoids looking directly at me.
I pour her a second shot and watch her drink it just as fast as the first one. The color returns to her cheeks and some of the tension leaves her shoulders. "Better?"
"Yeah." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "I'll do better."
