41. Alexei #2
“Oh, it’s no bother, lad.” Paddy’s smile is positively gleeful. “You just give me the fireworks, tell me when and where you need them, and I’ll make sure they go boom on time, all right.”
“No doubt.” I catch myself actually grinning, something I honestly never thought I’d do again.
“The rest of it is slightly more complicated, with a lot of moving parts, which is why we’re going to be joined shortly by some friends from other families.
We’ve got some Luccheses coming in from New York, backed by some Bellinis from New Orleans.
A handful of carefully chosen Cardenases.
And surprisingly, quite the contingent of local law enforcement, along with representatives from the US Marshals office. ”
The heads of my Miami crew snap up, eyes narrowing, faces growing hard.
“Don’t worry.” I give them my best gator smile.
“It’s a temporary alliance, boys. But one that should prove profitable.
It seems the FBI has managed to piss off people on their own side, as well as ours.
They’ve got more rotten apples than is healthy, so we’re going to help the marshals’ office and Miami PD do a little clearing of their ranks.
In exchange, they’re going to be otherwise occupied while our combined forces take back our respective properties. ”
There’s a stir of palpable interest around the table.
“What about these pingas in black who shut us down?” Dom is a Cubano who has worked for me since the Orlov days.
He’s one of the hardest men in my crew and my closest liaison with the Cardenases.
“Our Colombian allies lost millions of dollars in product, not to mention a lot of good men. I was on the water when those commandos came at us, and believe me, it was an entire army, fully armed and highly trained. No offense, but if you plan to take them down”—he gestures to Paddy—“you’re going to need more than a few pyrotechnics. ”
Dimitry snorts. “You haven’t seen those pyrotechnics in action. Believe me.” He and Paddy high-five each other, the latter grinning like the crazy bastard he is.
“Mickey,” I say, “want to bring up today’s international headlines?”
“With pleasure.” He hits a few keys, and everyone frowns at the screen.
“A new war in the Middle East?” Dom, reading the headlines, shrugs. “?Y qué? There’s always a war in the fucking Middle East. Who gives a shit?”
“In this case, we do.” I nod at Mickey, who brings up several aerial images of men storming an oil tanker. “Those uniforms look familiar to you?”
“?Cono!” Dom squints at the screen. “Are those the same pingas who boarded the Cardenas boats?”
“Yup.” It’s Pavel who answers. “Along with all of their buddies.” He clicks rapidly through a variety of photographs showing the black-clad uniforms standing guard at various oil fields, airports, and other locations.
“The entire force that stormed Miami has been pulled out. They’re all on government contracts now, protecting US interests in the Middle East. We have it on very reliable authority”—Mak, in other words—“that there’s only a skeleton force left in Miami, currently under the direction of Kiril fucking Novikov. ”
“Even better, Dom,” I say. “You and the Cardenas street crews have the blessing of law enforcement to take down what’s left here of that force. Whatever you don’t take, the US Marshals office will—no questions asked. They’re all wanted on federal counts, according to our contact.”
By the hungry expressions on the faces of my men, there’s unlikely to be much left for Renata to arrest.
“Right.” I look around the table. “While we’ve been speaking, representatives from Miami’s favorite criminal syndicates have arrived and are waiting to join our conversation. If there are no more questions, are we ready to let them in?”
Several hours later, Mickey and I stand on the front step of the compound, waving off Rico Lucchese, the new don of the Miami branch of his family.
Rico is a young man, barely older than Mickey, with the hard edge and wary demeanor I’d expect of someone who’s not only recently lost his father, uncle, and two older brothers, but has also survived internecine warfare to win his chance at leadership.
Mickey and he have met before and seem to have a good understanding, which has helped smooth the way to cooperation.
“Alexei,” Mickey says as I close the front door behind Rico. “Can I have a brief word?”
“Can it wait?” The truth is that despite several days of reestablishing alliances in secret, I still don’t know exactly what I plan to do—and I still haven’t spoken to Ofelia. And if he asks me about either of those things, this isn’t going to go well.
“No, actually,” he says grimly, “it can’t.”
Taking in his visible tension, I gesture to a nearby room and close the door behind us. “What’s on your mind?”
Because if you’re about to mention anything to do with Ofelia, this conversation is fucking over.
“It’s not about my sister.”
Thank Christ for that.
“Well,” he amends, “not directly.” His eyes meet mine. “Lourdes broke up with me,” he says quietly.
I attempt to look like I could give a fuck.
“That’s not the reason for this conversation,” he goes on. “But it might add some context to what I’m about to say.”
I resist the urge to look at my watch.
“What you’re building in that basement is groundbreaking,” he says bluntly.
I tense. I’m still shocked that after I’d sworn Mak to secrecy, he spoke about Phantom so openly to Roman and Mickey. Until now, I’d considered Mak to be the most discreet man I know.
“But my conversation with Mak wasn’t the first time I’d heard about Phantom,” Mickey goes on. “Lars told me about it during our argument back on the yacht.”
For a horrible instant I see Lars lying on a hospital bed, tubes and wires coming out of every part of him.
“What are you getting at, Mickey?” My voice is harsher than I might like, but there’s fuck all I can do about that.
“Miami is going to be off-limits for you after this is all over.” His voice is just as harsh as my own.
“And while you might be able to code yourself into invisibility, as Lars described it, you still need a server center to do it. And someone who knows what they’re doing to oversee it.
” A muscle tenses in his jaw. “To protect it. Along with whatever other interests you still have in the city.”
I’m powerless to stop a contemptuous sneer. “And you think you’re that huckleberry, do you, Mickey?”
“Not yet.” He doesn’t try to deny it. “But if I stay in Spain, I’m never going to be. Roman will literally lock me in the Mercura office if he thinks for a moment that I’m planning to get my hands dirty. But we both know there are skills I need to learn which don’t involve being behind a keyboard.”
“You think it takes skill to drop bodies in the swamp?” I give him a dry look.
“Skill has fuck all to do with it, Mickey. Killing takes a strong stomach, and an ability to ignore every shred of conscience we’re born with.
Men are not supposed to kill their fellow man, in case you missed that commandment.
It’s unnatural, and it fucks you up. It fucks you up even more when you make the doing of it an art form, like wielding a knife with surgical precision.
And believe me when I say that is not a skill you ever want to have cause to learn. ”
I turn toward the door. “You got dumped by your first real girlfriend, Mickey.” I try to keep the impatience out of my voice.
“Go and get drunk with your friends. Fuck a stripper. Take too many drugs, game all night—do whatever you need to. But even if I wanted to give you what you’re asking—which I don’t—there’s no chance in hell the men who live in this compound would follow someone as green as you. ”
He glares at me. “They followed you.”
“I wasn’t fucking green. And my men knew that. They’d seen me bleed—in many cases under their own hands, at the Orlovs’ orders. The men who followed me back then knew who I was and exactly what I was capable of.”
“I’m not asking to be given an empire I didn’t earn.” His tone is flat and hard. “Or one I’m not qualified to run. I’m asking to build an empire of my own out of whatever ashes are left tonight when you’re done blowing up yours.”
“And I’m telling you there’s no way you’re ready for that.” I half laugh. “Especially not if you’re standing here asking my fucking permission.”
“Asking was a courtesy,” he says coldly. “I thought it might be good business. But I didn’t come for your permission, Alexei, and I sure as fuck don’t need it. I’m staying in Miami when this is done.”
“Well, you’re a bit too old to visit Disneyland, but I’m sure you can distract yourself by spending some of Roman’s money in the floating casinos.
” Shaking my head, I walk toward the door.
“You don’t want this shit, Mickey,” I say quietly.
“You think I’m an asshole—fine. But I’m an asshole who has seen more corpses than anybody ever should.
I know you’ve held a gun more than once.
Used it, even. But you don’t go to sleep at night with the stench of decomposing flesh in your nostrils, or dream of a parade of faces you deprived of life.
I hope you never do, and I’m pretty damn sure Roman feels the same way. ” I hold the door open.
“So you’re just going to let the swamp win, then, are you?”
What the fuck?
I turn to find that he hasn’t moved. “Whatever this is, Mickey, I don’t have time for it.”
“Of course you don’t.” His face is pale, set, and harder than I’ve ever seen it.
“Do you know what Lars’s exact words to me were on that yacht?
” He goes on before I have time to argue.
“He said: ‘Your sister will never love anyone else but Alexei. And unless Alexei allows himself to love her back, he won’t ever find a way out of that fucking swamp.’”
If it was anyone else, I’d punch them. Unfortunately, I can hear Lars’s voice in every word.