Chapter 4
ANTON
The Firebird is the same as it always is.
It’s my first thought the second I walk through the door.
The metal paneling on the walls is still all there.
The floors are still sticky in spots. The dancers on stage are still swinging topless around the poles and the patrons at Sniffer’s Row are still leaning with dead eyes, waving their dollars.
It’s a good night. Just about every table is filled and there’s a girl on the lap of at least one man at every other table.
The bartender sees me as I walk in and nods to me. I walk over. “Is Magda around?”
“She’s in VIP,” he says. “Can I get you something?”
“Nah, I’ll find her. Thanks.”
I make my way toward the neon sign over the door at the back of the club. The bouncer standing in front of it sees me and steps aside to let me through. Good to know that everybody still remembers me around here.
The back hallway has rooms with glass doors on either side. As I walk past them, I note every room is occupied with patrons getting lap dances. Too bad Lev was stupid enough to open his beak. This place is making money.
The door on the farthest side of the hallway opens and a stout older woman with a mass of red curls comes walking out, a mop and bucket in hand. She pauses as she looks up at me.
“Tosha,” she says with a big smile. She sets the mop and bucket down and walks up to me, arms wide. I lean down and hug her warmly.
“Magda, how are you?”
“I’m well,” she says brightly. She leans back and looks me over. “You, on the other hand, are looking much too thin.”
That makes me laugh. By almost anyone’s standards, I’m a big man, muscular chest and arms, at least two feet taller than most men. And yet, to Magda, I’m too thin.
She squeezes my arm. “Too much muscle,” she says. “Not enough fat to keep you warm at night.” In Fenya, she says, “You need a big woman’s legs like mine wrapped around you.”
I laugh out loud and answer in kind. “I’ve told you. You’re much too much woman for me.”
“Ack,” she says, waving me away playfully. “Come. Let’s chat in my office.”
She leads me through the door she just came out of and we’re standing on a landing with two staircases, one leading up to the offices and the other leading down to the real club. I can almost pick up the faint scent of sex wafting around on the walls.
“It’s still there,” she says with a smile, “if you’d like to explore after our meeting.”
“Perhaps. I’m a busy man these days.”
She chuckles. “So I’ve heard.” I follow her up the stairs until we get to a door. She pulls keys out of her pocket to unlock it. “How does it feel to be the new Pakhan? Was it everything you ever dreamed, Tosha?”
She opens the door and the familiar scent of cigars greets me. Old and new, it hangs in the air here. Probably embedded in the wood.
There’s a big two-way mirror in place of one wall with the entire club in full view. I pause to look down at it all. Everything’s moving like a machine of flesh and commerce.
“It’s everything and more,” I say dryly. “I have never shied from duty.”
“How true,” she says. I turn just as she lights up another cigar and sits down at her desk. “I suppose you’re here to tell me who I will now be reporting to now that our friend has gone off to visit Mother Russia.”
I know word travels fast, but I’m always a little astonished every time someone hits me with information when it reaches them. “Orest Koslov,” I tell her. “You’ve met him a few times.”
She nods slowly. “I know the last name well. His father was one of your soldiers, no?”
“He was. Died a few years ago.”
“Right, right. His wife caught him cheating.” She took a puff from her cigar and chuckled a wheezing laugh. “I have often said that the company you boys keep is sometimes more dangerous than you are. So, Orest was one of Lev’s soldiers?”
“He was. I’m making him a brigadier, so he’ll be taking over Lev’s territories.”
“Lovely,” she says with the cigar between her teeth. “Give me a call when you send him over and I’ll be sure to show him a good time.”
“Good,” I say.
She puffs, looking me over silently. “Speaking of which, you haven’t been here in a while, Tosha. There was a time when you and little Mischa couldn’t stay away from this place.”
“We were just boys then,” I say. “All hormones and no sense.”
“I’ve found that rarely changes with time. It just slows down. Have you slowed down on us already?”
I shrug. “Perhaps. Or maybe my appetite has changed.”
“All the more reason you should pay a visit to the playroom. I’ve just finished a renovation. Even a few new attractions. I’m sure we can find something to fill the appetite of a Pakhan.”
It’s tempting. Especially when Magda starts talking about new ‘attractions’. The old woman had a vivid imagination and plenty of vision. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted.
“Another time,” I say to her.
“Ack,” she says. “Well, we will be here when you are ready.” She opens one of her drawers and pulls out a key, then walks over to the wall safe on the wall behind her and opens it. “Back to business, yes?”
She turns back around with several stacks of cash. Payment for the month. I watch as she packs it all away in a gym bag, mentally counting the bands of money as she moves.
“It’s all there,” she says as she zips up the bag.
“Thank you.” I take the bag and hoist it over one shoulder.
“This weekend, I’m hosting a little party. Just something to formally introduce some of the more interesting things in the playroom to my customers. You’re welcome to come, if you’re up to it.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” I tell her. “I’ll consider it.”
And with that said, my business with Magda is done. On my way back to the car, I do, actually, consider it. It’s been so long since I’ve indulged in my most primal desires. I’ve felt a little off kilter. Maybe I will take her up on the offer.
My phone rings the moment I get in the car. It’s Mikki.
“Yes?”
“Where are you right now?”
“I’m just leaving The Firebird.” I don’t like the urgency in his voice. “What’s up?”
“We have a problem. A big one.”
When one of my men tells me that they’re with Iggy, then I know something’s gone terribly wrong.
I arrive at Iggy’s apartment complex a few minutes after Mikki’s call.
The place he lives in is a hovel, broken and boarded-up windows in spots, flaking paint filled with lead in the hallways, and flickering lights.
For years, Maksim had been trying to get him to move out and into a better place, but he’s refused every time, usually saying something like, “Who else would tolerate the noises that come from this apartment when one of your soldiers fucks up?”
I get to his door and knock. It’s made of heavy metal, which one would think would insulate the noise inside. It doesn’t really. I can hear moaning and shouting as I stand here.
The door opens and it’s Iggy’s daughter, Sara. She’s a twelve-year-old with a Betty Page style haircut and a Misfits T-shirt. She looks at me with cold, dead eyes that have seen things that twelve-year-olds were never supposed to be exposed to.
“Hey,” she says. “They’re in the kitchen.” She steps aside to let me in.
The apartment is like one continuous room.
As I walk into the living room, I turn a corner and I’m facing the kitchen.
One of my soldiers, Abram, is lying on the kitchen table, his face pale and clammy, while Iggy leans over his chest, bloodied tools in his gloved hands.
Mikki’s leaning against one wall with his arms crossed, staying out of the way.
“Did you get it yet?” he says through clenched teeth.
“If you don’t stop squirming,” Iggy says calmly, “I won’t be able to get it at all.”
“What happened?” I ask Mikki. Mikki glances over at me to answer, but it’s Iggy who speaks up.
“I heard you’re the new head of the family,” he says without looking up. “That mean you can’t greet anyone properly anymore?”
“Evening, Iggy,” I say, then to Mikki, I gesture to him for an answer.
“The deal with Ponti’s people was tonight, as you are aware. Right after we made the exchange, we were jumped.”
I frown. “Ponti double-crossed us?”
“No, it was Amur’s people.”
“Shit.” They’re moving fast. First, they kill Maksim in an effort to destabilize us, then they raid one of our arms drops. “They get anything?”
Mikki shook his head. “One of the bullets caught Ponti’s driver in the neck. He was done for, so Abram grabbed his ride and sped off with the guns.”
I look over at Abram, who is still flinching away from the pain that Iggy’s inflicting on him at the moment. “He the only one to make it?”
Mikki nodded. “Yup.”
Abram lets out a strangled yell as Iggy finally pulls the bullet from the wound. He tried to twist away, but Iggy had a hand on him, pressing him back down to the table. He quickly sets the bullet aside and presses gauze on the oozing wound. “Lie still, dammit.”
“Are you sure this was the Amur?” I ask Mikki.
“Ask Abram about it. He’ll tell you.”
I approach the table and Iggy takes a step back, glancing up at me as he turns to his tools sitting on the counter. “Did you see who did this?”
Abram is still wincing from the pain. Through clenched teeth, he says, “It was dark, but I did see one of them had a Russian ‘A’ tattooed on his arm. It was the Amur.”
I nod. So, they’re openly attacking us now. I turn to Mikki. “We need to strategize. Tomorrow night, let’s meet.”
“Yes, sir.”
I turn back and Iggy is handing Abram a bottle of vodka. “Drink up,” he says. “And keep pressure on that wound.” He walks away from the table and turns on the stove, setting a fireplace poker in the flames. I walk around the table to him.
“I need to go,” I tell Iggy, then reach into my pocket for my money clip. “Make sure he’s taken care of. And if he tells you or you hear anything else about this, call me.”
I take about a thousand dollars from my clip and stuff it in his shirt pocket. Iggy nods. “Will do.”
I motion to Mikki to follow me and we both leave the apartment. “What is going through Novikoff’s mind?” Mikki says. “He knows we could crush him and his little gang like a bug. Why is he instigating this?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. All I do know is that I’ve gotta put my foot on his neck before he gets cockier.”