“No. I’d been content to view the loss of the New York line as a horrible tragedy, but one for which justice might come in the next life. Kolya deserves to die. Worse, actually.”
“And that’s why you’re here—to verify matters?”
“Yes,” he says and takes a sip. “That’s partially the reason. News has reached Moscow that Teodora lives. Powerful people are discussing the matter, all of them wondering how it’s going to shake out. And they’re more than a little concerned that the delicate power balance here in New York is going to be shaken up a bit.”
“But there’s more.”
He smiles. “There always is, isn’t there? I’m not the only one with a connection to New York. There are survivors of the old syndicate—men who weren’t Fetisovs by blood but were deeply connected to the family all the same. When Kolya took power,he cast them aside. Most fled back to the old country. They are eager for revenge.”
He leans in, and I can sense that he’s getting to the main point.
“People like Max Federov.”
There it is.
Max Federov is Kolya’s greatest rival and apakhanwith enough influence to swing the others against him. The Federovs had been the closest allies with the Fetisovs until the massacre. Max, fearing he was next, fled to Russia.
“Max, as you know, kept ties in the city after he left, business interests. Many, including myself, have long suspected that he’s not done with New York—nor is he done with Kolya. That he’s merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
“And you think this is the perfect moment?”
“It very well could be. And there’s this…” He reaches into his jacket and takes out a small, framed photo. He hands it to me.
I look closely at it. It’s of a younger Max Federov standing next to Lev Fetisov at what appears to be a wedding. Both men are smiling and both look relaxed in a way that suggests genuine friendship.
“Max was Lev’s godfather,” Alexei says quietly. “They were allies for a reason. They were blood brothers—sworn before God. Max has been waiting for proof. And what better proof than one of the Fetisov children still living?”
“I have the DNA tests ready.”
“He will want to see them, to see her. And if he finds the reality of the situation compelling enough?—”
“He could declare a blood vengeance.”
He nods slowly, then finishes his drink, raising his glass for another. I refill it.
“That would be a most difficult position for Kolya,” Alexei goes on. “A fight to the death, no doubt. If Max were to make such a move, you wouldn’t need the council to decide on what to do.”
I take one more look at the photograph, then set it down on my desk.
“It would bring the council to my side, our side,” I say. “But it would also escalate things enough to mean war.”
“It would almost certainly mean war. But when it’s over, there would be justice. And Kolya would be dead.”
I sip my vodka, drumming my fingers on the desk in thought.
“It’s a significant risk,” I finally say. “For all of us. If we were to lose, no doubt Kolya would put you in the crosshairs—regardless of your presence in more legitimate matters.”
“You are correct. That is why we cannot lose.”
He throws back the rest of his drink.
“I’m sure this is more than enough to chew on for the time being,” he says. “I will be returning to Moscow.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’m putting myself in needless danger if I were to stick around. But such an important matter required a personaltouch.” He stands. “I will put you in contact with Max. And I will stay in touch.”
His eyes narrow. There’s more.
