31. Konstantin
31
KONSTANTIN
I arrive at the place Sima asks to meet me at – a hole in the wall bar by the name of Eleven Degrees in Greenwich Village. Unlike the more Instagrammable establishments that have taken over the vast majority of this particular neighborhood, Eleven Degrees has managed to keep its more low-key industrial decors.
The place is practically empty were it not for the single bored bartender who’s more interested in watching TV than tending bar.
This space is just small enough that it serves its only purpose – a place where Sima can talk to me about the threat still looming over us without risk of anyone eavesdropping.
The bartender, when he sees me, tilts his head towards the back room. I push it open and finds Sima sitting on the desk with a box of khinkali buns beside him.
The smell of steamed pork and onions fills the tiny room as I shut the door behind me, and my growling stomach reminds me that I skipped breakfast this morning after leaving Emily’s side .
“Here.” He slides the box over to me as I walk behind the desk and take a seat.
I open the box and take out one of the steaming khinkali buns. “What is so important that you needed to come all this way to talk to me in person?”
“You picked one hell of a hotel to stay at, Kostya.”
“Is that what this about?” I ask as I take a bite, savoring the way the juices fill my mouth. “Are Gennady Starukhin’s feelings hurt because I didn’t pay him a visit?”
“Not particularly, no.” Sima purses his lips. “But he called me as soon as he,” Sima pauses. “Rather, his brigadier Alexander Vorobyov, reported seeing you and Emily check in to the Aman. He told me that he’s not the only one who knows that you’re in this city, which is why I came as soon as I could.”
I take another bite and let him continue.
“And the moment I arrived, Christian Genovesi was waiting for me at the airport. He insisted that I join him for a drink at a bar near Times Square." He shrugs and sits down. “The Somewhere Bar .”
An eyebrow climbs up on my face. “You had an unscheduled sit-down with Emilio Lanzzare’s consigliere? At a Lanzzare establishment?”
“Yep.” Sima nods. “And under normal circumstances, I would’ve told him to piss off. But kind of hard to do when he had a dozen guns pointed at me.”
“What the fuck did he want from you?”
“He wanted me to tell you that his boss hasn’t forgotten how you broke protocol and transgressed on their authority,” he answers. “When you killed four men in this city the last time you were here.”
“I was looking for my sister!” I slam my palm on the table. “Did you tell him that? ”
“I did, but he didn’t seem too moved at Alisa Yurevna’s predicament.” Sima reaches for his lighter and starts playing with it again. “Especially not after you almost single-handedly torched the entire leadership of the Ferrata Mafia on Capri at a wedding.”
“Something that the Ferrata Mafia tried to do to me!” I snap.
“I know.” Sima spreads his hands. “But Genovesi tells me that as far as the Lanzzare Mafia is concerned, you are becoming wildly unpredictable. And given their existing problems with the East Coast Bratvas …”
“Maybe Emilio wouldn’t have those problems if he hadn’t personally put a bullet in Matvei Starukhin’s head all those years ago.” I mutter.
“Have some khinkali , Kostya, and let me finish,” Sima says tersely. “Please.”
I glare at him, and take another bite to let him continue.
“Anyways, Genovesi wanted to let me know a few things. The first is that both Gennady Starukhin and Vasily Barinov are moving guns and killers.” Sima fishes out his lighter and starts playing with it. “Genovesi even tells me that Vasily plans to make a personal appearance at the wedding of a brigadier’s son in four weeks. Some kid named Gleb Novikov if I’m remembering correctly. All to shore up manpower.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Sima holds up a hand to tell me he’s not finished. I take another bite, and chew the savory fillings as I listen.
“And some of the other players in the East Coast Bratvas are getting restless too. Radomil Sorokin, Anatoli Popov?—”
“You don’t need to name them all, Sima.” Now it’s my turn to hold up my hand. “Let’s hurry this along.”
“He also told me that Domenico Ferrata is here in New York,” Sima nods. “Holed up somewhere in this city and not a whole lot of men left to follow him after the bloodbath at Capri.”
That gets my attention. Domenico is here in New York? Even after everything that has taken place, he’s still refusing to accept defeat.
The balls on this fucker.
“What the hell is he doing here?” I ask.
“To hear Genovesi say it, sounds like he’s licking his wounds and trying to calm down whatever bullshit is happening among his ranks. And all of that gets more complicated now that it seems like everyone knows you are here.” Sima sighs. “Hence the reason Emilio Lanzzare had his consigliere sit down with me.”
I swallow a mouthful of khinkali , and when I go to take one more bite, I realize I’d eaten the whole thing already. I don’t reach for another. Thoughts turn quickly in my head as I process what Sima is saying to me.
If Domenico is here, then surely everyone knows that I must act to stop him from becoming a threat. That means men, guns, grenades, and whatever else I need to silence him for good.
But if I do that …
“Emilio is afraid that I’m bringing my war to his doorsteps.” My eyes lock with Sima’s. “Just like you warned me in Italy.”
“Close.” Sima nods. “Under normal circumstances, yes, that would be his biggest worry. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have told me about how the Barinovs and Starukhins are gathering forces, or to remind me that you spilled blood in this city.”
“Ferrata blood.” I point out angrily. “We didn’t touch anything that belonged to him. ”
“Not yet.”
“We have no plans to!”
“And we had no right to spill blood here either, yet we did exactly that,” Sima answers. “Or rather, you did. Emilio doesn’t just think we’re bringing our war to his doorsteps anymore. He thinks that we’re about to launch a full-scale colonization attempt. You know what the Americans are calling you these days? The Wedding Butcherer.”
Sima continues. “We hit the Ferrata hard on Capri, harder than what any of them expected us to do and practically collapsed the organization overnight. And now we’re here? For another wedding? That’s not a good look, Kostya.”
Realization hits me like a clap of thunder.
“He’s afraid …” I muse. “And not just him. Starukhin and Barinov as well. Especially since I didn’t speak with Gennady when I arrived.”
“Exactly.” Sima spreads his hands again. “We’re sitting on a powder keg, and both you and Domenico are holding the match while the Americans watch with bated breath, ready to tip one way or another depending on how you go about this.”
“So if Domenico dies …”
“Then it’s a fucking free for all. Unless you become a convenient excuse for them to put aside their differences.”
“Will the Lanzzare make peace with the East Coast Bratvas? After everything that Gennady and Emilio have done to each other?”
“Peace? No. But a ceasefire? Absolutely.” Sima nods. “There’s a power vacuum slowly taking shape in New York under the surface, and Domenico staying alive is the only thing that can keep it from being filled with violence.”
“And if I do anything, they’ll unite against me?” I ask quietly .
“Potentially.” He takes a deep breath and nods. “Now you see why I couldn’t just tell you this on the phone.”
The weight of his words crashes down on my shoulders, and I slump in my chair. All semblance of hunger fades from me and all I can think of are the two impossible choices being placed before me.
Allow Domenico to live, and have my wife and child be under threat from an inevitable attempt at retaliation.
Kill Domenico, and I just might see the Siderov Bratva collapse under the united front of the Americans.
I rub my chin and mull over the choices. Slowly, murky suggestions take shape into clear outcomes.
I can’t just let him stay alive and make threats to me. To Emily. To our unborn child.
“Domenico cannot be allowed to live.” I finally say.
“Kostya.” Sima sighs. “If you unite this city against us …”
“I have to keep my family safe! To keep Emily safe!”
“Do you think that she’ll be safe with a target painted on her back because of another war that you’re about to start? The Lanzzare are sending us a warning , Kostya. And I’m betting if we go talk to the East Coast Bratvas, they’re going to tell us the same damn thing.”
“And what would you have us do?” I roar. “Let Domenico live? The man kidnapped my sister. He tried to kill me! He raped and murdered Emily’s sister. He could’ve killed Emily too! Honor demands that he dies.”
“And fate has made it so that his death might end the bratva!” Sima replies. “How do you intend to square this circle, Kostya? Will you let your honor bring us all down? Will you let your love for Emily be the end of everything your family built?”
“Careful, Sima.” My expression darkens. “You’re starting to sound like my grandmother. ”
Sima sits up straighter. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I wonder if he might decide to stand and take a swing at me. A heartbeat passes, then another. After a few more seconds of silence, he unclenches his jaw and starts speaking again.
“Do you know what the East Coast Bratva’s motto amongst themselves is?” He says slowly.
“Why don’t you tell me, since you seem to know everything.”
“I care for no one but the bratva,” he says. “And I shall love none other than the bratva.” He pauses again. “When the time comes, I know what choice the Americans will make.”
I grip the armrest of my seat as the meaning of the words sink in. I know what he’s asking of me. Had he asked me this question a few months ago, I would have no hesitation in telling him what I would choose.
But now?
“Thank you, Sima.” I nod. “I need some time to think.” I look him straight in the eyes. “Alone.”
He nods. “Whatever choice you make, Kostya,” he says. “I’ll always support you. Even if it’s to the end of my life, my pakhan. I’ll keep my ear to the ground, see what else I can find out.”
“Here.” I push the box of khinkalis across the table. “Take them with you. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Sima gingerly picks up the box and heads for the door. He spares me one final look before closing it gently. But the soft click might as well be as loud as a gunshot.