Aras

“Mr. Chernakov, I have some news.”

Warren Zephyr, publicly Vlad’s COO, privately third in command of Vlad’s vast criminal organization, stood nervously in front of a distracted Vlad about ten days after I’d taken Lake.

Even from thirty miles away, I could see the beads of sweat that had started to spring up on Warren’s forehead.

He had reason to be worried. Vlad could be an erratic boss, and the news Warren was about to deliver was very bad indeed.

“What is it?” Vlad said, grudgingly pulling himself away from the pornographic magazine he had been poring over like scripture.

Vlad was nothing if not old school, and when he finally put down the magazine and gave Warren his full attention, the other man gulped, his nerves crystal clear.

I was pleased that I got to watch this scene play out, would see Vlad’s reaction in real time and experience every moment of his suffering.

This little setback would be nothing in the grand scheme of things, not compared to what else I had planned for him, but I would savor every minute.

That I got to do so at a safe house miles away but still with complete video and audio was icing on the cake.

Three cheers for modern technology.

“Spit it out, dipshit,” Vlad said impatiently.

“There’s been an issue with the last shipment,” Warren said.

“What kind of issue?” Vlad asked.

He was fully engaged now, something I could see Warren wasn’t exactly happy about.

“It’s gone,” Warren said.

“Gone?” Vlad mimicked.

Warren nodded. “Gone. It got out of the country fine, but we lost track of it somewhere along the coast of Greece.”

“Lost track of it?” Vlad said.

Warren nodded, though doing so wasn’t necessary.

“Warren,” Vlad said, his voice a whisper as he stood and circled the wooden desk, “how does one lose track of a ton and a half of guns?”

“I’m trying to figure that out now, sir,” Warren said.

“Trying to figure it out?”

“Yes. According to the crew on the cargo ship, the container with our shipment disappeared.”

“You don’t believe that bullshit story, do you?” Vlad said.

Warren shook his head quickly. “Of course not. But it’s a…delicate situation.”

“And why is that?” Vlad asked, crossing his arms tight across his chest.

When I looked at him, I could see the effects of age and hard living on him, but also saw glimpses of what had helped make him what he was.

He was dressed in a fancy suit now, had a fifteen hundred dollar haircut, expertly manicured nails, and tailored clothing. But none of those trappings hid the essence of the man.

His viciousness, that feral core that hadn’t been softened over the years, was still there.

I could see it too, and I didn’t doubt that Warren wondered if he would make it out of this encounter alive.

With Vlad, nothing could be taken for granted.

I took a sip of water as I paced the living room of the safe house, my eyes locked on the screen as the scene unfolded.

“What’s the answer, Warren? Why is this situation so delicate?”

Warren swallowed, his gulp once again audible.

“You know we’ve had some deteriorating relationships with a few of our partners,” Warren said.

Courtesy of me, a fact that brought the grimmest smile to my face.

“Yeah, something else you’re supposed to be cleaning up,” Vlad said.

“And I’m working on it. But this current supplier is our main channel through Europe. I have to manage the relationship very carefully, or it will be cut off. I don’t want to accuse anyone without solid proof.”

“So you’re gonna let them shit on us instead?” Vlad said.

“No. Of course not. When we find out who is responsible for the missing shipment, appropriate steps will be taken. But in the meantime, I’m hoping we can take a more cautious approach.”

“So answer me this question, genius. What happens if we don’t find out who’s responsible? What then?” Vlad said.

“I…”

Warren trailed off, did everything but shrug.

“I’m not surprised you don’t know. But let me tell you. We would be fucked. I let that slide, then every shit-bag arms dealer between here and Macedonia is going to think it’s open season. People will disrespect us. Take from us. Because they’ll know there are no consequences,” Vlad said.

As much as I hated that fact, I agreed with him.

Warren took a different view.

“But if we go off half cocked, the business would be destroyed.”

“Weren’t you fucking listening? If we don’t do anything, the business is destroyed anyway,” Vlad said.

“So what should I do?” Warren asked.

Vlad shook his head, the expression of disappointment on his face something that would have been amusing if I could find anything about Vlad amusing.

Which I couldn’t.

“How many degrees do you have, Warren?”

“Three, Mr. Chernakov,” Warren said, tilting his head, his confusion clear.

“So that’s, what, eight, nine years of college?” Vlad said.

“I was able to complete them in seven and half,” Warren said, the pride in his voice impossible to miss.

“So, seven and a half years in college and you didn’t learn shit about the real world. We can’t let this stand. I won’t let it stand. Somebody has to pay,” Vlad said.

“Who?” Warren asked.

“Like I give a fuck. It doesn’t matter who. Just as long as the message not to fuck with me gets out, I couldn’t care less.”

“Okay,” Warren said, though I wasn’t entirely sure he understood what Vlad meant. “I’ll put something in action.”

“You do that. Now fuck off. Just looking at you is pissing me off,” Vlad said.

“I’ll keep you updated,” Warren said, scurrying toward the exit.

“Keep me updated,” Vlad muttered under his breath.

He was alone now, pacing, and the sight was joy to my eyes.

My entire body tingled, and I felt something like delirious with the excitement of watching him squirm, even just a little bit.

“Such bullshit. Nobody’s worth a damn anymore,” Vlad muttered.

He paced for a few seconds longer, then went back to his desk, his interest in the magazine clearly gone.

I stared at him as he sat, studying his face, comparing it now to what it had been back then.

The years had taken their toll, but I had never forgotten that face and never would.

I also wouldn’t rest until he was completely destroyed, something that was well on the way to happening.

“Fuck this,” Vlad said, throwing himself to his feet.

He was clearly agitated but even more reckless and dangerous than usual.

He stopped long enough to put on his suit coat, a funny detail given that he looked like he was about to flip out. But maybe the years of pretending to be a businessman and not a criminal like the rest of us had created an old habit that was hard to break.

After he adjusted his jacket, shifting so that the tightness around his midsection wouldn’t be as noticeable, Vlad left.

The office was empty, so I turned off the screen.

I didn’t bother with the tracker.

I knew exactly where he was going.

And what he wouldn’t find when he got there.

This day was only getting better.