Chapter 6 Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
It’s been a long night and I’ve barely had any sleep. My mind’s been racing with worry over Ivy and what she might be going through right now. I know Vadim hasn’t caught up to her. Viktor would have let me know if he had. But still, the worry is there.
Vadim is a very resourceful snake. I know it’s not if, but when he finds where the Feds are hiding her.
Then it’s just a matter of when he’ll make his move.
I have no doubt he will. There’s too much at stake for him.
Not only will he be worried about retribution from the Volkovs, but with an eyewitness to his crime, he’ll go away for years.
Maybe even life if some of his men come out of their hiding places and agree to testify against him, too.
No, Vadim has too much riding on silencing Ivy to sit back and wait. He’ll want to get her out of the picture as soon as possible. He’s not going to let a police escort or the FBI stand in his way, either. Like me, he has cops and Feds on his payroll who will help him get to Ivy.
Leaning back in my chair, I look absently around my office.
This used to be my dad’s office before he was cut down in cold blood by a hail of bullets.
Same as my mom. They had worked hard to make Baratino into a nice restaurant, and that all ended the day Vadim sent in hitmen to kill them.
I barely escaped with my life, and though I can’t prove he was behind it, one day I will, and then his life will be forfeited.
But now, Baratino is mine, and it’s my honor, my duty, to make sure the family business stays clean and prospers. No Mafia business takes place here, even though different families do come in to dine and relax.
The office isn’t very big, but it serves its purpose.
The walls are painted emerald green with dark wood trim.
Pictures of the homeland, of Russia, grace the walls, always a reminder of my roots.
Two dark brown leather chairs are positioned just in front of my desk.
A bookshelf stands against one wall and a set of six-drawer filing cabinets stands against another.
On my large, cherry wood desk sits a laptop, a picture of my parents, various pens and other supplies, and the accounting books, which I have open and laid out in front of me.
A frown creases my forehead as I look back down at the books. I’d been staring at the same entries for several minutes before I leaned back to take a break. Now as I look at the numbers again, I see what was bothering me before.
There are three entries, each for two thousand dollars, for miscellaneous kitchen supplies. Denis, my accountant, never leaves anything so vague. Although he may categorize something as miscellaneous, he always adds notes and has receipts stapled to the side of the page.
Curious, I flip the pages to last week and find the same odd entries, this time with five purchases for miscellaneous kitchen supplies.
As I study them, I realize that the ink is slightly off.
Most of the other books are detailed with dark blue ink, but these miscellaneous ones have a slightly lighter shade of ink.
As I look even closer, I can tell the writing is different, too.
It’s very close, but the zeros have a little curly cue at the top, unlike the other zeros.
Leaning back in my chair, I grab my cell phone and call Denis, telling him to get to my office now, then I hang up.
I know in my gut that he’s not the one trying to steal from me.
Denis has been with me for years, and I’ve never had a single problem.
And even were that not the case, the different writing style and color of ink are proof.
Denis must have been close by because he shows up just ten minutes later. He comes into my office, his face slightly pale and his brown eyes wide behind his black wire-framed glasses.
“Is…” Denis clears his throat as he steps further into my office. His gaze drops to the open books in front of me, and he pales even more. “Is something wrong, Mr. Mikhailov?”
No matter how many times I’ve told him to call me Konstantin, the man refuses, saying it’s not professional.
“Have you noticed anything strange in the books lately?”
Denis frowns and shakes his head. “No, but it’s only the sixteenth of the month. I do my strong audit at the end of the month.”
I nod, thinking as much. “Come take a look.” I turn the book around so that it’s right side up for Denis and upside down for me.
Denis blanches a little, then takes a seat in the leather chair across from me. After shoving his glasses further up on his nose with shaking fingers, he leans over and studies the page I have open.
I’m not surprised when he finds the strange entries in just a few minutes. His bushy eyebrows scrunch down into a V-shape as he pulls the book closer to him.
“This can’t be right,” Denis says, still studying the page. “I would never make an entry without a description.”
I don’t say anything and let him continue looking. His full concentration is on the pages now, and his earlier nervousness seems to have subsided a little, replaced with confusion.
After a few minutes, he looks up at me and pushes his glasses up on his nose, something he seems to do a lot.
“I don’t know what this is, Mr. Mikhailov, but I can assure you, I didn’t post these entries.”
I nod. “I know, Denis. But someone did, and we need to find out who and why. I won’t tolerate anyone stealing from me.”
Denis nods and swallows with difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the force.
“For now, please do what you can to fix the books correctly,” I order as I stand.
“Of course, Mr. Mikhailov. I’ll get right on that. I will figure this out, I promise.”
I don’t say anything as I leave the office. I know Denis will pore over the books until he finds the problem—and a way to fix it. He’s very anal about his work and won’t relax until every single penny is accounted for.
Baratino is pretty slow for a Sunday. There’s only about five tables with customers, but it’s in between lunch and dinner. The next wave will be in a couple of hours.
I go outside the restaurant, pulling the sides of my jacket together as a cold breeze hits me. My driver is waiting, as I instructed, out front. He looks up and sees me, then quickly gets out and rushes over to the back door to open it for me.
“Where to?” he asks, holding the door open as I get settled in the SUV.
“Home.”
He nods and closes the door, then hurries to the driver’s side and gets in. We don’t talk as he drives, and my thoughts return to Ivy. How is she handling everything? She’s got to be terrified, alone and uncertain what to do.
As the privacy window slowly closes, sealing me in quiet in the backseat, I make a phone call to my brigadier.
“Maksim, meet me at the house,” I say, then disconnect the call without waiting for an answer.
I gaze out the window, watching the landscape pass by as we drive. It is colder today than it’s been lately, but I don’t think it’s ready to snow just yet. We might get a white Christmas, though, or at least that’s the hopeful forecast from the news channels.
I’m not fond of the idea. Snow will mean locking Ivy away somewhere instead of risking the roads to keep her on the move, which is hopefully what the FBI is doing. Staying in one place for too long is dangerous. Being snowed in will give Vadim a better opportunity to get to her.
We pull off the road onto the long paved driveway leading up to my house. Trees border each side of the road, their tops leaning in as if creating a private tunnel to drive through. A high brick wall surrounds the property with a black metal security gate, the only way in through the front.
We stop long enough for the driver to punch in our code, then the gate swings open. A small guard shack sits just inside the gate and the security guy on duty nods as we enter.
I’m dropped off in front of the house and I go inside, straight to the back where my office is. Maksim arrives a few minutes later.
“I want to know every move Vadim makes,” I say as soon as Maksim closes the office door. “I don’t want him taking a shit without someone watching.”
Maksim raises a surprised eyebrow but nods. “Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
I’m not sure how much I want to tell him yet.
He’s my brigadier, but this is a strange situation.
Normally, I wouldn’t try and protect someone because they witnessed a murder, even if the guy doing the killing is Vadim.
But Ivy is different. I made a blood oath and I intend to keep it.
Plus, after watching over her all these years, I feel as if I know her, and the thought of someone hurting her brings a strange ache to my heart.
But how much should I tell Maksim? Or should I say anything? Eventually, I might have to, but not right now.
“Anything out of the ordinary. I want to know the minute he leaves, where he goes, and who he takes with him. Also, if you notice an unusual amount of activity, more guys hanging around or being sent out on business.”
“I’ll gather a crew now,” Maksim answers, then leaves.
The door barely closes behind him when my cell phone rings. Viktor’s name shows up on the screen and I answer it immediately. He’s been watching over Ivy at the safehouse and is supposed to check in with me every few hours or if something happens.
“Viktor.”
“All’s been quiet for a while now,” Viktor says, and I start to relax. “But there’s been some movement. I think Vadim’s men might have discovered where she’s staying.”