Chapter 18 – Maxim
The whiskey burned going down, but not as much as the fucking rage that had been eating at me for the past eighteen hours.
I sat behind my desk, staring at the door and waiting for Lev to walk through it with answers that might finally explain how the hell someone had gotten close enough to put bullets through Eleanor’s car.
When he finally entered, his usual cocky swagger was replaced by something more careful, more measured. He knew I was on edge. He knew that the wrong word, the wrong tone, could result in violence that would take weeks to repair.
“Well?” I said without preamble.
Lev settled into the chair across from me, a thick folder in his hands. “Dmitry Chertov is interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
“Interesting, like he’s the most connected motherfucker I’ve ever investigated.” He opened the folder, spreading documents across my desk. “Financial records, communication logs, travel patterns. This guy has his fingers in more pies than a fucking bakery.”
I leaned forward, studying the papers. Bank statements, phone records, meeting schedules. All of it looked legitimate, professional, exactly what you’d expect from someone in Dmitry’s position.
“He’s got connections with everyone, Maxim.
I’m talking government officials at the federal and state level, business leaders in construction, shipping, and finance.
Mexican cartels, Italian families, Russian bratva from here to Moscow.
If there’s a deal being made in this city that involves moving money or product, Dmitry’s name is somewhere in the paperwork. ”
“That’s his job, Lev.”
“Yeah, but it goes deeper than that. He’s not just facilitating deals for us.
He’s got his own network, his own sources, his own agenda.
” Lev pulled out a sheet covered in names and dates.
“Look at this shit. He meets with government contacts twice a week, minimum. Always different locations, always different people, always cash transactions that don’t appear on any official records. ”
“Bribes?”
“Has to be. But here’s the thing that’s fucking with me.
” He tapped the paper with his finger. “Some of these meetings happen right before our deals go through smoothly. But others happen right before our competitors run into problems with customs, or shipping delays, or sudden interest from law enforcement.”
I felt something cold settle in my gut. “You’re saying he’s playing both sides.”
“I’m saying he’s playing every side. Government, business, crime families. He’s like a fucking spider sitting in the middle of a web, pulling strings and collecting information.”
“And making himself indispensable in the process.”
“Exactly. Everyone trusts him because everyone needs him. Government officials need his information about organized crime. Crime families need his connections in government and business. Business leaders need his ability to make problems disappear.”
I poured another whiskey, my mind processing the implications. A man with that kind of reach, that kind of access, could do incredible damage if he decided to switch sides.
“What about personal details? Family, relationships, vulnerabilities?”
“That’s where it gets weird. On paper, Dmitry Chertov is clean as fucking snow.
No family, no romantic relationships, no expensive habits, no debt, no obvious leverage points.
” Lev leaned back in his chair. “It’s like he doesn’t exist outside of his professional identity.
I even checked in with Cassandra, and her research has yielded the same results. ”
“Nobody’s that clean.”
“That’s what I thought. So I dug deeper.”
“And?”
Lev looked at me for a long moment, then shrugged. “That’s it.”
I stared at him, waiting for the punchline, waiting for the real information I knew he had to have uncovered. When he started to stand up, indicating the meeting was over, something inside me snapped.
“Блять!” Fuck! I slammed my hand down on the desk hard enough to make the whiskey glass jump. The sound echoed through the office like a gunshot, and Lev froze halfway out of his chair. “Ты думаешь, я ебаный идиот?” Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?
“Maxim….”
“Don’t fucking ‘Maxim’ me.” I switched back to English, my voice dropping to the dangerous register that made grown men reconsider their life choices. “I’ve known you since we were five years old, you piece of shit. You think I don’t know when you’re holding back on me?”
Lev’s expression shifted, the careful neutrality replaced by something that looked almost like relief. He settled back into his chair, a familiar smirk spreading across his face.
“I was wondering when you’d call me on that.”
“Stop fucking with me and tell me what you found.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was absolutely sure.
Because if I’m right about this, if what I think is happening is actually happening, then we’re not just dealing with a traitor.
We’re dealing with someone who’s been playing a long game that makes the rest of us look like fucking amateurs. ”
He pulled another folder from his jacket, this one thicker and held together with a rubber band that suggested sensitive material.
“Dmitry Chertov has a very interesting relationship with William Beaumont.”
The name hit me like ice water in my veins. “What kind of relationship?”
“The kind that involves regular communication over the past few months. Phone calls, encrypted messages, even a few in-person meetings.” He spread new documents across the desk, communication logs and surveillance photos.
“I’ve been monitoring their conversations, trying to decrypt the messages, piece together what they’re discussing. ”
I studied the photos. Dmitry and Beaumont in what looked like a restaurant, their body language suggesting familiarity rather than business formality. Another photo showing them shaking hands outside a government building. A third showing them getting into the same car.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Started about two months ago, right around the time you married Eleanor. Initially, I thought maybe it was just business. Beaumont’s construction company has contracts with the city, and Dmitry has connections in municipal government. Could have been legitimate.”
“But?”
“But the frequency and secrecy suggest something more personal. They’re not meeting in offices or conference rooms. They’re meeting in parking garages, abandoned warehouses, places where surveillance is difficult and conversations can’t be overheard.”
“What are they talking about?”
“That’s where it gets interesting.” Lev pulled out a transcript, pages of text that looked like they’d been assembled from multiple sources. “I managed to get audio on a few conversations. Most of it’s coded, careful language that could mean anything if you didn’t know the context.”
“What’s the context?”
“Your wife.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I felt my jaw clench, my hands automatically forming fists as implications I didn’t want to consider started arranging themselves in my mind.
“Show me.”
Lev pointed to a section of the transcript highlighted in yellow. “This is from three weeks ago. Beaumont is talking about ‘the asset’ and ‘retrieval scenarios.’ Dmitry is discussing ‘access points’ and ‘security vulnerabilities.’”
“They were planning to take her.”
“That’s what it sounds like. But here’s the thing that really fucked with me.” He pointed to another section. “Dmitry isn’t just providing information. He’s actively discouraging certain approaches, steering Beaumont away from direct confrontation.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he had a better plan. Something that would give him what he wanted without the risk of a full-scale war with our organization.”
I felt pieces clicking together in my mind, forming a picture I really didn’t want to see. “He was playing both sides. Helping Beaumont plan the extraction while making sure it would fail in a way that served his own purposes.”
“Exactly. Think about it. If the attack had succeeded, if Eleanor had been killed or seriously injured, you would have gone after Beaumont with everything you had. Full-scale war, massive casualties, attention from law enforcement and government officials.”
“Which would have been bad for business.”
“Which would have been catastrophic for someone whose entire value proposition is his ability to keep things smooth and quiet. Dmitry’s usefulness depends on stability, on being able to manage conflicts without them spiraling into chaos.”
“So he made sure the attack would fail.”
“He made sure you would be in the right place at the right time to save her. He’s the one who flagged the anomaly in her movement pattern, remember? He’s the one who brought it to Rafael’s attention.”
The realization hit me like a sledgehammer; my previous confusion over the oddness of the rescue faded. “He set up the whole fucking thing.”
“He orchestrated a scenario where Beaumont would make his move, you would heroically rescue your wife, and he would be there to help clean up the aftermath. Everyone would be grateful to him, everyone would trust him even more, and his position in the organization would be more secure than ever.”
“Except Eleanor almost died.”
“Except Eleanor almost died,” Lev agreed. “Which suggests that Dmitry either miscalculated the level of violence involved, or he was willing to accept her death as an acceptable risk.”
I stood up abruptly, pacing to the window and staring out at the city below. Somewhere out there, Dmitry was probably sitting in his office, answering phones and coordinating deals and playing the role of loyal associate while planning his next move in a game I was only beginning to understand.
“There’s more,” Lev said quietly.
“More?”