Chapter Thirty-Six
In which Dmitri burns it all down.
Dmitri…
It's been a week since I left the penthouse.
The expression on Ava's face still guts me.
How the life drained from her eyes as I cut her to pieces with my words.
Then, the fury kicks in. Everything I've done to keep her safe, rescuing her from captivity.
The lives - my own people - that I've risked for her protection.
The ring I put on her finger. And yet, she has the gall to be filled with moral outrage and indignation when I'm forced to take action.
I can't forget the fear and disgust on her face when she looked at me. My words were harsh, but they are true. I thought she had backbone, that she was strong enough for this life.
Maybe I was wrong.
Arriving at Morozov International, I see that the light is on in Yevgeny’s office, the only one on the darkened floor.
I knew he had been working tirelessly since he came here, eager to prove himself.
Every time I visit, he's paler and more exhausted-looking, to the point where I forced him to take a weekend off with orders to visit the company's beach house in East Hampton.
"Sir, thank you for coming so late." He stands up from his desk with a little bob of his head.
"Thank you for your hard work," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. "What do you have for me?"
"You might wish to sit," he says solemnly.
There is a bone deep weariness in me, knowing that after wave after wave of bad news, another one is about to come crashing down.
His expression is at once apologetic and terrified, as if he's not sure how I'm going to respond to his discovery.
"I told you I found the aberrations in the construction budget you give me, sorry, I am learning the words still, you gave me," he says.
"The cost projections did not match the profit margins.
I found the pattern of how the money is moved out of Morozov accounts.
Not just the account you assign me. Six construction projects and two of your legitimate warehouse holdings are impacted. "
"Eight different properties?" I ask incredulously.
"Da, Sir. I found the discrepancies. It is well over thirty million. Going back over a period of five years."
"This is impossible," I say. "Our accounting department is excellent. That's how we found this discrepancy."
"Here is problem," he says miserably. "Those totals are from the number is given to you by the Zaitsev Firm, correct?"
Trakhni menya, fuck me.
"What are you telling me, Yevgeny?"
"There is systematic draining of funds on six out of twelve divisions the Zaitsev handles for you." His head is lowered, as if waiting for me to strike.
"Can you isolate who in the firm was responsible for the affected projects?" I say, my voice, deadly calm.
"I have. Efrem Zaitsev handles those accounts."
I look over to Kir. "Find out where Efrem and Adam are. Don't alert them yet." He nods, leaving the room. "Yevgeny, thank you for this."
"You do not have to thank me, Sir. I know this is bad news."
"It was exactly what you were brought here to do." My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. I can feel my demon beginning to coil and withe. "If you would like to stay, I would be pleased to have you join the U.S. branch of the company here in New York."
His eyes light up and there's a huge smile before he quickly extinguishes it. "Da, spasibo, Sir." He pauses awkwardly. "After you address issue."
"Get some rest," I say. "Go home."
Kir meets me in the hallway with a frown. "Both Adam and Efrem are at their office building right now."
I check my watch. "At 9:30? Let's go. I want four more men surrounding any exits in the building, one on either side of the firm's floor."
Staring blankly out the window of my Bentley, I watch New York flash by in ribbons of neon.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Adam since that day.
We didn't attend Ilya's funeral, of course.
My parents sent a donation to the Midtown Manhattan Foodbank, where Adam's mother was on the board of directors. The money was returned at her request.
This will be the final blow.
The elevator ride up is silent, and I pause for a moment in the entryway, smoothing my hair back and straightening my tie. In the reflection of the mirrored elevator doors, my eyes are alien, even to me, blank and pale.
The front doors of their office are open. The reception desk is empty, and the entire floor is dark. I jerk my head at Demid. "Spread out. Make sure no one leaves. Check every office."
He nods and slips away like a wraith as I step into Adam's office, knocking on the open door.
He's sitting at his desk, staring at nothing.
I remember he'd been so proud when he got his desk after being promoted to CFO.
He called it his, 'fuck you, I'm in charge desk,' his seat of power.
I'd been forced to listen to his research on three different kinds of exotic wood before picking the African ironwood for his corporate throne.
The desk is clear of everything but two vodka bottles, one empty, one halfway there. And a gun, sitting precisely in the center of the desk. "Hey Dmitri," he says. "Want a drink?"
"Not right now." I step carefully into the office. The gun isn't within Adam's reach, but if he lunges for it, he could grab it before I could get across the office.
He looks down at his drink. "So, I guess you got the news, huh?"
"What news are you talking about, Adam?" Three more steps towards the desk, he hasn't moved.
"My father," he says bitterly. "My fucking father. That dead doctor wasn't the one that introduced Ilya to the trafficking ring. It was my fucking father."
A rush of breath pushes out of me, leaving my chest empty and aching. Four more steps and I'm in front of the desk. I lean over and take the gun away, pulling out the clip. It had been recently fired, three bullets gone.
"The money you're missing," he says, laughing harshly. "My father's been panicking, building up a little nest egg, you might say."
"How did this happen?"
"He got mixed up in a bad crowd," he says mockingly. "Remember when our parents used to tell us that? 'Hey, you don't wanna run with a bad crowd, that reputation follows you'."
"Well, I was the bad crowd," I shrug.
"No Dmitri, never you. But it's something he'll never be able to hold over my head again, is it?" He laughs a little wildly, taking another drink. His eyes are glassy and the stench of vodka rolling off him is overwhelming.
"Why don't you put the glass down," I say gently. "It sounds like there's a lot to talk about."
"My dad's been in bed with Will Grand for at least five years," Adam blurts out.
"The trafficking ring? Putting the prison apartments for the stolen girls in different buildings?
It's all Will Grand. Dad's been laundering money for him.
I guess he got Ilya a little something special as a Christmas bonus or… something."
"Fuck, Adam. I'm so-"
"Don't you say it!" He hisses. "Don't. I can't hear, 'I'm sorry' again. Everything I've worked for is bullshit. My father and brother are sick fucks who profited from girls like Jeannie and Ava. If Rachel knew about this, she would leave me and I wouldn't blame her."
"But you didn't do these things, did you?" I ask.
His bloodshot eyes meet mine. "It doesn't matter though, does it? It's my company. It's my family."
"Where's your dad?"
He runs the back of his hand across his runny nose. "He's in his office," he says, staring at his empty glass. "It seemed appropriate."
"I'll go check on him."
"Yeah," he chuckles mirthlessly. "You do that."
Kir and I meet in the hall at the same time and his expression tells me everything. "Efrem's slumped over his desk. He was shot three times in the chest."
"Get rid of this," I sigh, handing him the pistol, heading back to Adam's office.
He hasn't moved, still slumped in his chair. "I had to do it," he says. "As the new acting CEO, it was my responsibility." He shakes his head. "I couldn't report it to the police. We both know that."
"I know," I agree. "But I would've taken this task from you. You didn't have to do it."
"Yeah, well, I did. I should've seen it sooner.
When Yevgeny requested so many records and sent the courier over without warning to pick everything up, I knew something was wrong.
And they were all Dad's accounts. I didn't tell Dad that Yevgeny had requested the information.
I went through the numbers myself. I didn't know about Will Grand, I swear.
I'll have to audit every one of our accounts.
If Dad stole from other crime families, too…
" He shudders. "I keep thinking I should ask for that gun back. "
Rounding the corner of the desk, I take his bottle of vodka and the glass.
"No," I say. "I think you should sober up, take a shower and call your wife.
I know she's not aware of anything regarding the firm's clients.
But you can tell her that you've discovered discrepancies.
That your father had a heart attack in his office and you found him.
You'll hold the funeral. We'll take care of the coroner's report. "
Adam meets my gaze for the first time. "You should kill me."
"There's been enough of that for a while," I say. "Call your wife. I'll leave Kir here to help you." We don't shake hands. There's no manly hug or comforting slap on the back. I leave.
My night isn't over.
Kolya is waiting for me in the backseat of my car, holding his laptop. "I figured I'd find you here." His fingers are dancing over the keyboard. "Yevgeny and I have been collaborating a bit. You know how it is, pull on one loose thread and it unravels for all of us."
Eyeing the bar in the backseat, I consider if a drink would hurt anything at this point. I leave it closed.
"I'm sure Adam told you about Efrem and Will Grand's little money laundering adventure?"
"Yes," I rub my eyes. "And the embezzlement. It looks like Efrem was putting together an exit strategy."
"I got the information about the subcontractors that you'd asked your architect to compile.
" He turns the screen to me. It's a long line of construction companies cross referenced with buildings.
"Here's how that rat fuck is doing it. There's got to be prison apartments all over the city in buildings owned or built by at least fifteen different companies.
I'm sure ninety percent don't know shit about it.
But…" He taps a key and the columns change.
"It's the subcontractors. All his favorites spread out, subcontracting on other builds, putting the prison apartments in those apartment buildings.
So much high-density housing in New York. They had plenty of room to play."
"That chertov ublyudok." I shake my head. "I thought he was too stupid to be a threat."
"There's more," Kolya says apologetically.
"Let's hear it," I say wearily.
"The electrical subcontractor who built out those apartments in The McManus are on your Newtown Creek build. I have the foreman checking the apartments now." Kolya hesitates, cringing a little. "He found twenty wired in the same way."
There's no part of my life that isn't dirty. The Morozov Bratva was never going to become legitimate. My demon chuckles gleefully, writhing in my chest. Burn it all down.
"So let's burn it down."
"What? The Newtown Creek apartment complex?" he asks, wide-eyed. "A Morozov building?"
"I want a list of every unoccupied building where you've found the prison apartments. Will's projects first." My demon is dancing, howling with delight. "It's time to send a message. Burn them all to ash."
***
Even a Bratva the size of ours can't destroy twenty construction sites in one night.
But ten is a good start.
I watch Demid and his men move with lethal efficiency, wiring the Newtown Creek building. I'd been proud of this one. Polina's team had designed a beautiful structure with plenty of open areas around the apartment units. Maybe the plans can still be saved, even if the build couldn't.
Will Grand thought he could fuck with me. Spread his disease into the Morozov empire. He was wrong.
Demid steps back from the final charge, nodding at me. It's quiet on this construction site, as quiet as any place can be in New York. The night watchmen are gone. There's only us.
"Have you called the Pakhan?" Demid asks. "To inform him of what's happened?"
"This is my decision," I say, staring at the building. "I'll speak with him after."
Demid is silent for a moment. "Understood. I've timed the charges; we can detonate at the same time as the other nine teams."
It took twelve blocks of Semtex to wire this building. In seconds, it'll be nothing but a pile of mortar and brick. Demid hands me the detonator.
"3… 2… 1…"
I press the button.
There's a powerful flash of light from inside the building on the main floor.
A roar, like a bull elephant ready to charge, and the earth heaves under our feet.
The percussive thumps of secondary explosions rattle the construction site, and then it all implodes.
Shredded lumber and crumbling cement collapse inward.
The windows are already installed in most of the windows, so now the crescendo of shattered glass adds to the symphony of destruction.
My demon laughs, dancing in the fiery remains of my crown jewel. "It's not enough." I walk back to the car. "Send Lavrenti and his team back for more Semtex charges. We have time for at least one or two more tonight."
I can barely hear my phone ringing over the roar from the fire.
It's Matvey. "Is there a problem?"
"Mrs. Morozova." His voice is shaking. "She's been taken."
***
chertov ublyudok - Russian for fucking bastard