Chapter 39
thirty-nine
Arctic Security is nothing like I imagined. It is huge. There are forty-two floors in total. Ten subfloors, twenty floors dedicated to the security business, and the top twelve are part of the consulting and legal firm.
Matthias has been at the office for the last few days, barely getting away except to sleep for a few hours.
Then he goes right back. For the most part, he has taken over the Bratva again, but I am fine with that.
He isn’t leaving me out of the loop; he is simply more efficient at running the operation.
I came in with little knowledge of how to run the mafia, and most of my time as Pakhan—a title I still hold—was spent searching for answers and revenge.
Matthias is planning on teaching me everything he knows so we can truly rule as partners, but right now, he has a mole to find, and I am busy searching for my traitorous family.
When it comes to the security company, we don’t involve the operatives in mafia hits.
The men and women who make up Arctic Security are all legit, and Matthias doesn’t want to taint that.
He does, however, run a black ops cyber unit that does tie in with the more criminal side of his empire.
Mark would be so pissed at me if he knew where I was right now.
“We have more than fifteen satellites circling the globe at any one time,” Maksim informs me. “Our team has created back doors into the local law enforcement, the CIA, FBI, NSA, ATF…you get the point.”
Wow. That is scary impressive.
“The legit side of our black ops unit surveys security threats for other corporations. Social media monitoring, and so on,” he continues as he leads me down the corridor. “We have trained analysts who search for keywords, photos, hashtags, videos, and the like to remove all evidence of the Bratva.”
“Is that why Matthias is able to run a corporation so legitimately without any problems?” I wonder aloud. I have wondered how he manages to be the face of Dashkov Enterprises and Arctic Security.
“For the most part,” Maksim offers. “A good amount of our clients know who Matthias is, but those clients work in the underground. They’re just as shady.
” He smirks. “Even the government contracts with us. They suspect who Matthias is, but when it comes down to it, they don’t care.
There are bigger fish out there to fry. As long as we aren’t moving humans, the US government turns its head away. ”
“That is a little worrisome.”
“Why is that?”
“I mean—” I run it over in my head a few times to make sure I am wording it correctly. “We’re still running drugs and weapons. Drugs that cause overdoses. Guns that kill people. Isn’t the government supposed to be all about shutting that down?”
Maksim stops so suddenly I nearly topple into him. He doesn’t look angry, but the air around us certainly shifts.
“That is true,” he admits. “But let’s look at it this way. We may sell the drugs, but we don’t put the needle in their arm. We aren’t responsible for what people do with the drugs we sell them.”
I scoff at his simple way of looking at the situation but remain silent.
“We may sell weapons, but our guns don’t kill people, Ava. People kill people. We can’t help that.”
“Then why sell them at all?” I ask, curious. If their legit businesses are doing so well, why have the criminal element in the first place?
“Sure.” He shrugs and continues walking.
“We could go completely legit, but then we couldn’t afford to employ nearly half the people we do.
The compound would cease to exist, and the people we’ve helped would have nowhere to go.
We wouldn’t have the resources to save the women like we did at the docks.
Not to mention, we may sell drugs, but we don’t cut them with rat poison or fentanyl. They are clean and safe.”
I shoot him a dubious look. He smirks. “As safe as drugs can be anyway,” he admits.
“If we didn’t sell guns, someone else would.
Yes, we do what society considers criminal and bad, but there are people much worse than us out there.
We have morals and standards. Can you say the same about Ward? Or the McDonoughs?”
There is a part of me that wishes I could disagree, but he has a point. Despite their illegal activities and looser-than-normal moral codes, for criminals, they are well above par. Sure, they kill—no, we kill people and threaten them—but it is never just to watch them die.
What did Sansa say in Game of Thrones? “It isn’t what I want, but what honor demands?”
“You’re right,” I admit. “I was looking at it from the wrong perspective.”
Maksim smiles down at me as we stop in front of a large, heavy metal door.
“The fact that you can admit that shows you will be a great leader, Ava,” he says proudly.
“Remember that there are two sides to every coin. Sacrifices that must be made. You want to save women like your mom and Kenzi? Then you need to play outside the law. It’s not cheap to do what we do. ”
I smile up at him and nod as excitement bubbles up inside me.
“I get that,” I tell him honestly as I bounce on my feet. “Now can we go inside? Mark is going to die when he finds out I was in here first.”
Maksim grunts. “That kid will never be allowed in this place if I have anything to say about it,” he grumbles. “The damage that hellion could do.”
“You know he already has his own access to almost everything, right?” That includes the Dashkov satellites, although he is highly monitored and only given access in dire circumstances.
“Don’t remind me.”
He opens a small black box to the right of the door, painted the same black as the door itself. If he hadn’t opened it, I wouldn’t have guessed it was there. “Just like the vault at the Dashkov Building, every designated person has their own individual code that rotates at the end of every week.”
“Who are the designated people?”
Maksim’s smile widens. “Matthias and Vas, obviously,” he tells me. “Dima and me because we share duties as head of Bratva enforcers, the six people who rotate shifts in that room, and you.”
I think about that for a moment. “What about Nicolai and Leon? Wouldn’t they have access as well since they are part of the upper cadre?”
Maksim shakes his head. “Nicolai’s and Leon’s duties have nothing to do with our cyber security unit. Nicolai, as obshchak, deals in money and businesses. His responsibility is managing the smaller businesses such as the nightclubs, restaurants, and strip joints we launder our money through.”
“And Leon?”
The giant Russian winks at me. “Leon the Liaison is what we call him,” Maksim chuckles. “He is the face of most of our businesses. Matthias may be the CEO, but Leon is the one everyone sees. Press meetings, marketing, all of that is him and our PR coordinator Melanie.”
“I feel like I should have known this already,” I mumble petulantly, embarrassed at my lack of knowledge on the inner workings of my own…empire? Yeah, empire sounds perfect and badass.
“Honor demanded vengeance,” Maksim assures me softly. “That is why you have us. You’ll learn as you go. Matthias had years to be trained by Tomas to be Pakhan. You weren’t even given a how-to manual.”
Ugh. The amount of wisdom this man has in his head is maddening. Once again, he hits the nail on the head. Fuck.
Maksim enters his passcode into the silver keypad and tilts his head back slightly for the retinal scanner.
With a small beep, it grants him access, the lock on the door disengaging.
Cool air wafts into the warm corridor, causing goosebumps to break out over my exposed skin.
Maksim waves me inside, closing the door tight behind us.
Funny thing about this room is that you have to use your code and retina scan to leave as well.
The room is painted in a light cream color.
I’ve been imagining something much darker, like a hovel of some kind where they are all hunkered down and see very little light.
That isn’t the case, since my imagination isn’t conducive to a good work environment and would probably make vampires out of everyone being unable to see the sunlight.
Which they can’t—but the walls have artificial windows with digital landscapes inside them.
The lights in the room produce a type of artificial sunlight.
It is genius, really. This has to be the best room in Washington, where seasonal depression is a huge thing because of how little the sun shines throughout the fall and winter months.
There are no individual desks or offices in the room, save one that is used during an active op.
The analysts in charge of the mission can use the room without being disturbed or crossing channels with anyone else in the comms center.
Otherwise, the desks are shoved together in the middle of the room with obvious stations set up, but there are no boundaries or dividers.
“They don’t have separate workspaces because most of the time they aren’t working alone but as a team, and the teams change,” Maksim says, reading my mind. “This allows them to switch up where and who they sit with to better accommodate their needs.”
Some of the analysts look up from their laptops, interest sliding into their gazes as we walk farther into the room.
“Great,” one of the analysts mutters. “Another one to babysit.”
The girl across from him ducks her head, cheeks burning hot with embarrassment at his less-than-subtle jab at her.
Clove—that is her name, if I remember correctly.
Maksim gave me a dossier on each of the analysts in the room.
She is the only female, but her skills and credentials are far more impressive than most of her male counterparts.
Especially this one.
“Travis,” I look down my nose at the man. “Isn’t it?”
He glares up at me, nose wrinkled in disdain. “Yeah? Want a cookie or something for knowing my name, princess?”