Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Vita
It’s been ages since I’ve been in Boston. I love the city. There’s plenty to do and plenty to see. The people might be “Massholes” when they drive, but for the most part, they’re nice enough. I’ve never been here for pleasure, but I’ve seen various parts of the city—some better, some worse.
I’ve been to Lynn before.
Lynn, Lynn, city of sin.
You never come out the way you came in.
A fun little ditty I learned the first time I came here.
It’s a North Shore town and hosts a fairly large Russian community.
It’s not where Yuri Volkov lives—now that it turns out he isn’t dead.
Oh, no. He moved his ass over to Chestnut Hill in Brookline to rub elbows with the proper parts of society—but he spends plenty of time here.
Loan sharking, fencing, and extortion don’t go over as well in Chestnut Hill where the average household income is six figures.
Instead, he takes advantage of Lynn once having the third-largest Russian community in the States.
The testa di cazzo—dickhead—has a predictable routine which includes coming to Lynn to relive his nineteen-nineties glory days as an enforcer.
He may as well strut around in an Adidas track suit and gold chain to complete the stereotype.
Maybe a few ruby and emerald rings to boot.
“Is that him?” Luciana points toward the stronzo.
“Yeah. The one on the right.”
Elle, Luciana, Catalina, Margherita, Matáis, and I are in a commercial van that looks like it belongs to a high-speed internet provider.
There’s a camera with a mic in what appears to be the keyhole on the front passenger door.
We’re watching Yuri and three men sitting outside at a coffeeshop.
They act as though they don’t have a care in the world as Yuri pours vodka into one guy’s glass.
Definitely not on the menu for most people.
“Yuri, aren’t you worried about sitting out here? Diaz family won’t ignore your claims.”
A guy in a blue pinstriped suit with a heavy Russian accent, sitting to Yuri’s left, sounds nervous. When I say heavy, I mean “strong like bull.” No a, an, or the in English because those definite articles don’t exist in Russian.
“No more than I’ve ever been, Boris. Look at me. I sit outside because no one dares approach me. Those who do, haven’t survived.”
I can practically hear Catalina grinding her teeth. I glance at Matáis, and his fists are balled on his lap. I return my attention to the screen as the men continue to chat. Nothing useful comes of it until the end, when the quietest man finally joins the conversation.
“Yuri, what about our shipment from Montreal?”
I assume they mean weapons, but it could be something else.
“What about it, Mikhail? They’re just after-market car parts. You’re making it sound like bigger deal than it is.”
By after-market, he means black-market, stripped-down parts.
Montreal is one of the most notorious places for unrecovered car theft.
The vehicles get jacked and are almost immediately on ships to Europe.
They’re often gone before the owners can report them missing.
I don’t readily see why car parts are coming to Boston from Canada. It doesn’t seem profitable for anyone.
“You know it’s not air filling those tires.”
As one, all of us in the van grin.
Jackpot.
“I know, I know. Rurik thinks I’m headed to Cape for weekend, but I’ll be in Brighton South. Don’t worry.”
“Where’s Rurik going to be?”
Mikhail presses a little too hard, and Yuri turns a steely gaze on him, assessing his colleague.
If the guy doesn’t back off, he’ll die before the deal happens.
I observe Yuri’s drinking buddies more closely.
I assess their body language and where they’re looking as their gazes wander from the conversation.
“They’re agents.”
“What?” Luciana turns her attention away from the screen to look at me.
“I don’t know which agency or even which nation, but they’re undercover.”
“How can you tell?”
Matáis sounds genuinely curious, when I feared he might be dismissive. I should’ve given him more credit.
“It’s their subtle mannerisms. I don’t believe they’re Russian, even though their accents are accurate.
The way they survey their surroundings. They’re not looking for who’s going to kill them, or at the very least rob them.
They’re looking for who sticks out as a potential criminal they can arrest or flip.
It’s too speculative. They aren’t spies. They’re law enforcement.”
“And you believe Yuri hasn’t keyed in on that?” Catalina tilts her head as she puts the men’s body language under a microscope.
“I think he has, and he’s toying with them.
I don’t know if he’s got at least one of them on his payroll, or he’s just biding his time.
Maybe he intends to bait them into giving away their investigation.
Maybe he’s manipulating them to take out a rival.
There are too many variables for a hypothesis, but these men’ll get in our way if we aren’t careful. ”
“These men knew what they were getting into when they took their jobs. If they fear for their lives when they face us, then they should’ve picked another line of work. I’ll sleep just fine when they’re dead.”
Catalina plans homicides as casually as she would order coffee. I shift my focus to Matáis, and I know he won’t disagree.
“What do we know about Rurik?” Luciana changes the subject by asking a question I don’t know the answer to.
It’s Matáis who does. “Shrewd businessman. Before he took over as pakhan, he was a lot like me. The forward face of their legit enterprises. He gained many people’s trust and earned his family millions through his aboveboard connections.
Even now, many question just how dirty he can be when he maintains what appears to be a pristine corporate reputation. He’s a shark, but an ethical one.”
Matáis can’t say the last bit with a straight face, and the rest of us laugh.
“Yuri, where will Rurik be?”
Our attention returns to the screen as Yuri’s staring match ends when Boris echoes Mikhail’s. The guy in the middle, sitting across from Yuri, has fallen silent. He was the chatty one earlier, which makes this sus. What made his attitude change?
Yuri flicks a hand by his right thigh, and I doubt the other men notice. His attack dogs—bodyguards—materialize and stand behind the men. He dips his chin toward the man in the middle, and two guards grab the guy’s shoulders.
“Don’t you want to know where Rurik is too, Vlad? Five minutes ago, you couldn’t shut fuck up. Now you’re so quiet. Why, huh?”
Despite his decades speaking English, he—like his companions—still drop the definite articles. It tells me he learned the language later in life. Probably after he moved here.
Why’re they speaking English?
I expected we’d need a translation app for the others to understand, or I’d be interpreting.
This hasn’t felt right since the beginning.
I wondered about them speaking English when the four men sat down together, but I let it go. Now I’m certain Yuri’s doing it because he assumes at least one of them’s wearing a wire. He doesn’t want any confusion when he skirts around the questions he doesn’t want to answer.
Fuck.
The last thing we need is to take out three agents if they’re in the wrong place at the wrong time tonight.
But I’ll do it if it means Yuri understands he reached way too far when he targeted Alejandro.
“I’m quiet because I’m waiting for your answer.” The man’s defiance borders on the suicidal.
“Rurik is with his mother.”
That’s anticlimactic. I didn’t expect that. I shift my focus to Catalina, hoping someone can explain why Yuri wouldn’t just say that earlier.
“His mother’s terminally ill. She’s in hospice.”
Elle’s the one who explains. If anyone would know, it’s her because she’s from Boston and from her past. In a normal situation, it would sadden me to hear this.
But if Rurik allowed Yuri—turned a blind eye or is so ill-informed about what’s going on—to target Alejandro, then I have no sympathy for him.
The men rise and part ways. It’s time for us to end this fucking shit.
Matáis maneuvers the van into a street parking spot on the backside of the salvage yard.
We followed Yuri here after waiting for him for most of the day and into the evening.
He disappeared into a restaurant and didn’t come out until after dusk.
We kept our distance as we tailed him to ensure he didn’t notice us.
This isn’t the same van as earlier. That was far nicer.
This is a sixteen-passenger van that looks like it’s on its last legs. It blends in far better here.
“Mati, you good?”
Catalina looks over at her husband as she checks her rifle.
Matáis didn’t bother putting up an argument when Catalina—who’s leading this mission—told him he’d remain with the vehicle.
In fairness, it’s pretty much the most important job on the mission.
No vehicle means no escape. It doesn’t matter if you hit the mark if you can’t get away.
“In and out, Caty.” There’s warning in his tone.
“I won’t waste time, Mati, but you know I’ll have my pound of flesh. We all will.”
I remain quiet and so do Elle and Luciana, but we’re all thinking the same thing. Yuri and anyone unfortunate enough to be with him will suffer.
Matáis sighs and nods. It’s not like he’s pussy whipped or anything, but he and Catalina have been married for nearly forty years. He knows which battles to pick. They exchange a kiss that makes me look away.
Oh, God.
They’re practically my parents!
Could Alejandro wind up with a little brother or sister the same age as our kids?
From the way they kiss…
I don’t know why he’s an only child, but it’s definitely not from lack of passion.