Chapter 71 Ivan
IVAN
I’m pacing outside the operating theatre, too anxious to do anything else. We don’t have the all-clear yet, and Gabriella has been in there for hours. I’m shattered on a new level, with her life
It looks like someone planned a hit on me in Matteo Scalera’s apartment, but I know better.
It’s my instinct to suspect the Scaleras had something to do with it, but looking at Gabriella’s brothers, as we sit here waiting for news, they’re as wrecked as me.
Whatever went down earlier, they would never sacrifice their sister.
We’re all here, being eaten alive with the notion of losing her.
This private clinic is an interesting and unconventional setup in a random, inconspicuous house in a middle-class neighborhood on the outskirts of Boston.
Nothing gives away what goes on behind these domestic walls.
Inside, it’s been fitted with the latest medical equipment, and a trained general surgeon, with his assistant, a scrub nurse, and an anesthesiologist were all in place to take care of her when we arrived.
Best part of this whole arrangement: it goes under the Feds’ and the cops’ radar.
They must have something on every single doctor and surgeon on call in their clinic or they pay serious money to keep mouths shut.
The Petrov network might stretch far and wide, with spies in places nobody can even find on a map, but Il Consiglio has the strongest base a Mafia organization can have on home ground.
“Fuck,” Dominic grunts where he’s sitting with his laptop and his phone at a desk in the house’s foyer. “The footage is clear,” he says as he glances up. “The Mole was on a call with Mara the whole fucking time. Watch this.”
He turns the screen to me, and I lean in with Benedict, Matteo, and Yuri to watch footage from Matteo’s elevator.
There’s The Mole, calmly standing next to Stan as they descend to the parking garage to get Mara’s clean clothes, then he spins and jams a fist into Stan’s throat.
He takes Stan completely by surprise and as Stan bends over, winded, The Mole knees him in the face, making Stan’s bulk crumple to the floor.
“Watch how he presses the emergency stop button at just the right place”—Dominic points to the screen—“knowing he can walk out on the only other floor this elevator is programmed to open doors at.”
“The fucking service floor,” Matteo hisses, turning in the foyer like a caged lion.
“And then disappearing down the fire escape, down to the general lobby, and out onto the street,” Dominic adds, leaning back and groaning into his cupped hands. “He had access to the building’s blueprints or engineers’ installation plans at a minimum to pull this off.”
“So, we have a rogue mole on the fucking loose,” Matteo says, shoving his fists into his pants’ pockets. “Why? How? I fucking trusted him!”
“That isn’t a rogue mole.” Yuri’s heavily accented English cuts through the moment with such authority, every man turns to look at him. “Your mole was recruited, probably years ago. Mara, too, but looking at the new tattoos on her body, they got to her recently.”
“What do you mean, recruited?” Matteo homes in on him, stopping short mere inches, eye to eye.
It would be threatening to anybody else, but Yuri is unfazed and stands his ground as he meets my gaze. I nod. By bringing us here to their medical facility, they’ve opened their world to us. It’s time we do the same, even though we didn’t have time to build all the trust I usually rely on.
“All the signs are there. Chertnikov, our rival—”
“You mean like in Chertnikov, and Gabriella being his girl? It’s the same guy?” Matteo cuts in.
“Yes,” Yuri says with a nod. “He failed to take over the Petrov Bratva with a coup in July, via proxy. Now he’s infiltrating the Italian Mafia.
He’s looking for Gabriella, and he’ll use every possible means to get to her.
I don’t know exactly what happened here this morning, and how everything interlinks, but this was Ivan’s second brush with death in so many months. ”
Matteo’s eyebrows shoot up. He steps away and shares a glance with his brothers.
“Also, all our intel suggests that Chiara Bellini, Gabriella’s friend from the convent, has also been recruited by Chertnikov,” I add, repeating the information Yuri sourced over the past few days.
Dominic drops his hands from his face. “Are you sure? She’s missing, her apartment raided as if she was on the run—”
“I have my sources.” Yuri’s tone says it all. Don’t ask beyond this line.
“Define recruited in a Bratva context?” Benedict asks. He’s been playing Lego with the gun Mara built in the washroom and pauses to look up.
“Recruited as spies, or suicide missions. Whichever they deem you fit for. You might not even know which it is, until your final assignment,” I say. “Recruitment is rarely by choice, mostly under duress, threatening you with the death of someone else, or whatever they have on you.”
“Some recruits become excellent spies, undercover for years,” Yuri says.
“Which basically means we don’t trust anybody.” But we’ve crossed the divide today. Trust has been forged in the death zone between the Petrov and Scalera families.
“A tale as old as time in organized crime,” Benedict says as he clicks the last piece of the gun into place, points it at the floor, and tests its weight. “This, however, is all new tech. A piece of art.”
The gun that shot my wife. I want to rip it from his hand and destroy it, wishing I could wind back the clock. Wishing I could’ve been faster and thrown myself in front of her, instead of Gabriella protecting me and getting hurt.
“3D printed, not leaving a trace of its origins. Made for close-range shooting, right up to your target for maximum effect, because the bullets are something out of another era. No airport scanner or X-ray is going to trigger a security checkpoint into thinking these are bullets. To be honest, I’ve never seen anything like it before,” he continues.
“And the case, look how perfectly everything slots in.”
We look on while he takes the gun apart in seconds and slots the different sections into spaces custom-made in the tattoo artist’s traveling case, making them disappear.
The way he handles the gun, the speed of his fingers, his light touch, tells me everything nobody would guess at first glance about Benedict Scalera.
He likes precision, attention to detail, and already has admiration for whoever designed and produced this weapon that got past every Il Consiglio security check.
“Fuck me.” Matteo looks down at the traveling case, at Dominic, then at me. “From where I stand, it looks as if we’ve arranged a fucking hit on you in my apartment, Ivan. But this is more layered than I thought.”
“Yeah, the notion came up, but Gabriella—” I break off and let the thought hang. “I reckon there is more at play here than what we see on the surface.”
“My guess is Mara was recruited to find Gabriella.” Yuri sighs.
“It could be our fault for enquiring intensively into Randazzo’s affairs, kicking up dust in Europe we shouldn’t have and putting Chertnikov on our scent.
We played somewhat into their hand when we lured them here to figure out if she knew who was hunting Gabriella in Italy. ”
“You think they were in on the bigger picture? To kill me and take over the Petrov Bratva?”
“I think The Mole has been in on Chertnikov’s plans for some time,” Yuri says. “When they saw you, they knew what they had to do. Gabriella, in that moment, became the side quest, because she wasn’t in the room.”
“They definitely worked as a team,” Dominic says. “If only we could figure out what Mara said to The Mole during her call to him.”
Yuri shifts on his feet. “He was her handler. When they saw you, their mission got redefined. We need to figure out what hold Chertnikov had on her, because she was willing to die for it.”
Rage jostles in me. This is all so fucked up. Mara said Gabriella is Chertnikov’s girl. The last words she ever spoke… If only I could choke more out of her now, but she was properly peppered by Dominic and Matteo’s bullets when Gabriella shouted out and she took that first shot.
“We now have a mutual enemy,” Dominic says, “because the bullets Gabriella took were meant for you.”
I shake my head in disbelief. I should have listened to my gut when Matteo introduced us and I wanted to stay anonymous. “They had an unexpected opportunity to finish the job Chertnikov’s men failed at in the summer.”
Not holding back any details, I give them the rundown of the 4th of July, how Chertnikov slowly infiltrated my inner circle, Darya, Dimitri, the Pakhan’s strokes, and how Dimitri felt the Petrov Bratva was finally ripe for the picking, acting on Chertnikov’s command and staging the coup.
“Clearly, that party isn’t over yet,” Benedict says, a brow raised. “Chertnikov still wants you eliminated. Why?”
“It’s been a hostile takeover of the worst kind from the beginning.
He thinks I’m an easy target, man alone, our Pakhan weakened, with only Milana as the other half inheriting my father’s business.
He wants our network, our operations. I need to eliminate Chertnikov, because he’ll keep on coming for me.
” And for Gabriella’s sake, to avenge her and give her peace.
“You’re no longer man alone,” Matteo says then, meeting my gaze head on.
“Here’s the crux of the matter: we’ve had this mutual enemy for much longer than any of us understood.
This thing with Gabriella…it all comes from fucking Randazzo and his dirty fucking business I bet we can trace back to Chertnikov.
We’ll have to get to the bottom of all this.
” He drags in a deep breath. “Here’s something I bet you don’t know, Petrov… ”
“Yes?” Try me.
“I am Randazzo’s only son. I’m more his child than Gabriella ever was. My mother, Bianca Randazzo, was already pregnant with me when she married Giuliano Scalera.”
Fuck me. Seems these Scaleras can keep secrets. But what a depraved move, impregnating your stolen daughter as you sell her off to another Mafia Don.
I didn’t know about Matteo’s biological relationship with Randazzo, but then, I never asked. I bet if Yuri and I dug deep enough, we would have stumbled on this tidbit.
“Ariana is his only surviving biological daughter, as far as we know,” Matteo carries on, but that doesn’t surprise me.
“Randazzo’s mess is our inheritance, whether we want it or not.
Gabriella is our sister, but if she’s known as Randazzo’s only surviving relative, she’s as much ours to protect as yours.
If Chertnikov had dealings with Randazzo which she inherited, then it’s our mutual problem. And we will avenge her.”
Easier said than done, but I appreciate him being this open.
“We won’t be able to touch him,” I say. “Not in Russia, at least.”
“So we bring him here,” Benedict says. “Throw him a little party he won’t forget.”
Our gazes meet across the small expanse of the room.
It’s as if we’re quietly agreeing to a deal we’ll still sign in blood.
Our mutual revenge has doubled in size. The relief is immense, knowing I’ll head into this mission with the Scalera brothers by my side.
We will be family, and Gabriella will be fine, and we’ll integrate and become bigger, stronger, impenetrable.
None of my children will have to do what I had to do to Dimitri to save our legacy.
“We might lure him here,” I say, “but Chertnikov is my kill.”
“Of course,” Matteo says with a nod. “We Scaleras know when to let a man do what he needs to do.”
Sounds like they speak from experience, and I like knowing that I’m not entering a war zone with rookies by my side.
The door to the operating room swings open, drawing all our attention.
My heart skips a beat.
“Gabriella?” I ask as I step up to the surgeon.
He nods at me. “She’s still coming out of anesthesia, but your wife is going to pull through just fine, Mr. Petrov.”
My wife. My moya ptichka. My little bird with the dragon’s heart. For the rest of my time on earth, I’ll strive to be deserving of her, to be worthy of her love.
I’ve made many vows over the past months but let me spell this one out to the Devil: vengeance for what Randazzo has done to her, with Chertnikov standing by, will be mine.