Drago had never considered himself a religious man, but he’d prayed more in the last few hours than ever in his life.
But then, being driven around at over a hundred miles an hour by a lunatic, high as fuck on coke, and in the middle of the tantrum to end all tantrums would probably have the most ardent atheist reaching for his rosary and prayer book.
‘Dear God, if I die today, please forgive me for my sins, but, more importantly, can you make sure the sonuvabitch sitting next to me dies first?’
Drago wasn’t exactly sure that God had ever heard quite such a plea before, so he was hoping he’d get points for originality, at least.
“Ilya, there’s a police checkpoint coming up.” Drago studied the screen on his phone. “It’s one of those hidden ones, so you might want to slow down a little. You don’t want to get pulled over and not make it to the rendezvous later.”
Drago stared out in front of him, looking out for a checkpoint. He wasn’t worried that the car would be recognised, as they changed the license plates almost daily, replacing them with other plates that genuinely belonged to black Mercedes of the same model. But their speed was gonna get them flagged.
“Seriously, man, if you plan on making the exchange tonight, you’d better slow down, because I don’t think the cops are going to let you off with a warning when they spot that not only were you driving at over a hundred miles an hour, but that you’re also shit-faced on cocaine.” Drago’s nails were digging into the leather seat, as the engine whined at such high speed he thought it was going to explode.
Eventually, Drago’s words must have registered, because suddenly the harsh, high-pitched whining started to quieten, and Drago’s body was no longer pinned back in his seat by the G-force.
He glanced over and watched the needle on the dash drop below the hundred, and then below ninety, until it actually felt like they were crawling along.
“Better?” Ilya sneered at him.
“Eighty-five is good, man.” Drago grinned. “It’s what everyone else is doing anyway, so you won’t stand out.”
“Happy to oblige.” Ilya sounded anything but.
“What time is the meeting with your buyer?” Drago asked, casually. Ilya was starting to do business in the big league, and the sort of people he was dealing with made Drago more than a little nervous.
“Seven o’clock.” Ilya replied distractedly. “About a mile from the warehouse where the trucks will be parked up overnight. Why?”
“Just wondering how many men you want to take with you for protection.” Drago shrugged.
Ilya scratched his head.
“Ten visible.” He suggested. “The others can stay in the vans just out of sight.”
“Ok. I’ll pick the best ones as soon as they get to the warehouse.” Drago nodded. “They can come in with us as back-up, and the rest can wait outside with the vehicles. We won’t need to take all the vans with us, though. They’ll fit into three or four, which will make them easier to keep out of sight.”
Ilya’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
“Humph.” He looked at the screen. “It’s a message from Niko. You deal with it.”
Drago took the phone, opened up the screen and clicked on the message alert.
“Have you arranged food for everyone for when we arrive in Bucharest?” He read out, glancing up at Ilya. “Have you?”
Ilya looked at Drago as though he was crazy.
“Is that my job too?” He hissed. “Do I have to do everything?”
“Ilya, you changed the location of the drop at the last minute, so I assumed that you’d made all the plans.” Drago frowned. “Between us, Niko and I arranged for everything, including the food, to be waiting for us in Sofia, Belgrade, and then in Zagreb, but now that’s all going to go to waste. We’ll have to restock before we get to Bucharest, and God knows what you expect us to do when we stop at Alba Iulia and Budapest.”
“Call Niko and tell her to get it sorted. She can stop off along the way and pick up whatever we need.” Ilya instructed, waving his hand as though he’d just laid down a royal decree.
“That’s not going to work.” Drago pointed out. “She doesn’t have any money, does she?”
“The fucking useless bitch.” Ilya sneered. “I don’t even know why I let her stick around when she’s such a dead-weight.”
Drago could feel his blood boiling.
“She’s far from useless, Ilya, and you know it.” He tried to keep his voice reasonable. “She does everything you ask and more, and you don’t even pay her what you pay the lowest of your men. Not anywhere close. You can hardly complain that she’s not in a position to buy supplies for you, when you barely give her enough money to feed her kid.”
Ilya glanced over at Drago, and he could see little spots of colour high on Ilya’s cheeks, a warning sign that the boss-man was about to lose his shit.
“Are you saying I’m wrong about how much I choose to pay my sister?” He demanded. “That I should hand over more cash, so she can up and run out on me?”
“Ilya, nobody said she wanted to run out on you.” Drago turned in his seat. “But you gotta know that she’s your best asset. She keeps everything on track for you and does all the shit you can’t be bothered with. If you were a company director and she was your best employee, you’d pay her enough to make her want to keep on doing what she’s doing. It’s called incentivising your staff.”
“Incentivising?” Ilya chuckled. “I allow her and the kid to live. That’s all the incentive Niko needs.”
Drago didn’t join in Ilya’s laughter.
“Man, you’re seeing this the wrong way.” He shook his head. “You need to be treating this more like a business and rewarding your best assets to keep them supporting you.”
“I have a hundred assets in the back of those trucks, and if everything goes to plan, they’ll make me a very pretty penny when we reach Rotterdam.” Ilya snorted.
“They’re not your assets, they’re your trading stock.” Drago sighed. “And if we don’t arrange some food for them, they’re going to be dead trading stock, and worthless to anyone.”
Ilya reached inside his jacket, and for a moment, Drago’s breath caught in his chest, expecting his boss to pull out a gun. He was so fucking volatile when he was on coke, that you never knew which way he was going to go.
He breathed a sigh of relief when Ilya pulled out his wallet.
“Here, take my credit card and the piece of paper inside. Use your phone to get onto the Carrefour website and order whatever food you think we need. Have everything delivered to the address on that piece of paper.” Ilya instructed. “Then send Niko a message to say the problem has been resolved.”
Drago took the card and paper and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He’d never known Ilya to be this reasonable about anything.
“And Drago?” Ilya wasn’t finished.
“Yes, boss?”
“If you ever try and lecture me on how to run my business or my family again, I’ll string you up by your bollocks and let my ‘trading stock’ loose on you with razor-blades.” Ilya smiled. “They may be subdued now, but given the chance to exact some revenge, I have a feeling they’d rip you to pieces, piece by tiny piece.”
“Yes, boss.”
Somehow, Drago didn’t think Ilya was joking. He was just one lieutenant, an easily dispensable and replaceable hired hand.
He’d better not forget that if he wanted to live a little longer.