Chapter 20
Nikandr
T he framed photo of our daughter at twenty weeks’ gestation, captured in stunning detail by the latest ultrasound technology during the anatomy scan, sits in a place of honor on my desk, centered between my laptop and the secure phone I use for business calls.
I can see her profile clearly now, including the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, and tiny fingers that will someday hold mine.
The appointment three days ago was unlike anything I’d experienced.
Watching her move and stretch on the monitor, seeing her heart beating strong and steady, and knowing she’s healthy and growing exactly as she should all changed something for me.
It made the abstract concept of fatherhood into something immediate and urgent.
I pick up Elizabeth’s photo now, studying the image that’s already burned into my memory. Dr. Price printed several copies, but this one captured the perfect moment when our daughter turned toward the camera, almost like she was looking directly at us.
“She’s going to be beautiful,” Sabrina had whispered in the darkened exam room, tears streaming down her face as we watched our child move on the screen.
Beautiful and innocent and completely unaware that her father has spent years building an empire on violence and fear. The thought makes my chest tighten with something that feels like shame and desperate determination.
I set the photo back in its place and turn my attention to the documents spread across my desk. There are financial reports, asset valuations, and succession plans I’ve been working on for weeks. The quiet process of dismantling everything I’ve built over the past fifteen years is delicate work.
I can’t simply walk away without ensuring the transition won’t create a power vacuum that invites war. Too many people depend on the stability I’ve provided, and too many enemies would see my withdrawal as an opportunity to seize territory and resources.
A knock at my study door interrupts my planning. Maksim enters without waiting for permission, carrying a thick folder and wearing the expression he gets when he’s been working on complex problems.
“The latest reports you requested,” he says, dropping the folder on my desk.
I flip it open and scan the first page of the detailed financial projections for transitioning our legitimate businesses away from any connection to illegal operations.
The numbers are sobering but manageable as I look at the facts distilled down to numbers and details, including three construction companies, two import/export businesses, the medical clinics, and a dozen smaller ventures that generate clean revenue.
“Talk me through the timeline,” I say, studying the charts and projections.
“The construction companies are the easiest. They’re already operating independently with minimal oversight from us.
We can sell them outright to the current management teams within sixty days.
A lot of money is laundered through them, but that could be curbed and gradually transition to fully legitimate businesses within…
eighteen months, after wrapping up current contracts with… certain associates.”
I nod, making notes in the margins. “What about the import business?”
“More complicated. There are existing contracts and relationships that will take time to unwind, and a lot of smuggling happens through these. I recommend transferring ownership to a holding company based in the Cayman Islands, then gradually selling shares to legitimate investors over the next year as we focus on cleaning up the source of the goods moving through them.”
I nod in agreement. “And the medical facilities?”
“Those stay exactly as they are. They generate clean revenue from essential services, and they give you a legitimate reason to maintain certain connections in the business community.” Maksim pulls out a separate document.
“I’ve identified twelve facilities we can expand into full-service clinics.
The profit margins are excellent, and the business model is completely above board. ”
I review the expansion plans, impressed by the thoroughness of his research. “What’s the total investment required?”
“Forty-two million for the medical expansion. Another fifteen to transition the construction companies, or an estimated forty million in profit if you just sell them to others looking for that type of investment without any change. The import restructuring will cost about eight million in fees and taxes.”
“Acceptable. I want at least two free clinics though, where people can go without insurance, or if they have bad insurance.” My thoughts are squarely on Sabrina and her mother as I say that.
Maksim looks surprised. “That will eat into profits?—”
“I don’t care. Make it happen.” At his nod, I close that section and move to the next page. “What about territory management?”
“I’ve been in preliminary discussions with Anton Volkov and Dmitri Kozlov. Both are interested in taking over different sectors of our illegal operations, and both have the infrastructure to maintain stability without involving us directly.”
I know both men well enough to trust their capabilities. “Terms?”
“Volkov wants the waterfront territory and shipping operations. He’s offering twelve million plus ongoing tribute payments to key people who might otherwise cause problems during the transition.”
I nod since it’s a generous offer. “And Kozlov?”
“He wants the gambling and entertainment businesses. Twenty-eight million upfront, plus he agrees to honor all existing protection agreements for two years.”
The numbers are lower than what those operations generate annually, but the clean break is worth the financial loss. “What about enforcement and collections?”
“That’s where it gets complicated.” Maksim shifts in his chair. “Those operations can’t be transferred cleanly. They’re too tied to personal relationships and reputation. We’ll have to wind them down gradually.”
“How gradually?”
“Six months minimum. We honor existing contracts but don’t take on new business. Existing debts get collected or forgiven on a case-by-case basis. Anyone who wants to continue in that line of work gets transferred to Volkov or Kozlov’s organizations with our recommendation.”
I consider the implications. “And if someone doesn’t want to transfer?”
“Generous severance packages and new identities if they want them. We take care of our people, Nikandr. That doesn’t change.”
“Good.” I flip to the next section, which details offshore banking and asset protection. “Tell me about the financial restructuring.”
“I’ve identified thirty-seven million in liquid assets that can be moved to legitimate accounts in Switzerland and Singapore within thirty days. Another sixty million in investments that will take longer to liquidate without attracting attention.”
“Timeframe for full liquidation?”
“Eighteen months for everything, but I recommend keeping about twenty million in easily accessible accounts as insurance money in case the transition doesn’t go as smoothly as we hope.”
The suggestion makes practical sense, even though the idea of needing insurance money makes my stomach tighten. “What kind of problems are you anticipating?”
He arches a brow. “Vadim is the obvious concern, but there could be others who see your withdrawal as an opportunity to settle old scores or grab territory. Having liquid assets available gives us options if we need to solve problems quickly.”
I study the financial projections, noting the careful way Maksim has structured everything to minimize tax implications and regulatory scrutiny. “What about ongoing expenses? Security, staff, and maintenance of legitimate businesses?”
“The medical facilities generate enough revenue to cover all necessary. The construction company sales will provide a substantial cash cushion if you go that route, and the territory transfers include ongoing consultation fees that will supplement income during the transition period.”
“Consultation fees?”
“Both Volkov and Kozlov want to maintain access to your expertise during their first year of operations. Nothing that compromises your exit strategy, but enough involvement to ensure a smooth transition and continued loyalty from people who might otherwise cause problems.”
The arrangement makes sense from a strategic standpoint, though the idea of maintaining any connection to those operations makes me uncomfortable. “Define ‘consultation.’”
“Monthly meetings to discuss territorial disputes, advice on major decisions, and recommendations for key personnel. There will be no direct involvement in day-to-day operations, and no participation in anything illegal. You become an elder statesman offering guidance, not an active participant.”
I nod slowly, mulling it over. “For how long?”
He gives me a terse smile. “One year maximum. After that, you’re completely out.”
I close the folder and lean back in my chair, processing the magnitude of what we’re discussing. It’s hard to believe fifteen years of careful planning and strategic expansion can be dismantled, transitioned, or redistributed in less than two years.
“There’s one more thing,” he says. “Personal security during and after the transition. You’ll need protection for your family that doesn’t depend on active Bratva connections.”
“What do you recommend?”
“A private security firm. Legitimate, licensed, with no connections to organized crime. I know a company in London that specializes in protecting high-net-worth individuals who’ve received credible threats.
They’re discreet, effective, and expensive.
It might be worth buying into such a company as well. ”
“Cost just for protection if I don’t choose to invest?”
He looks down briefly at his tablet. “Two million annually for comprehensive protection. Less if you’re willing to accept reduced coverage after the first year.”