Chapter 24
LEV
Yuri lays three photos on the table in front of me. He pulled their numbers from Marcus’s work phone. As far as we know, they’re his associates. All low-level creeps with ties to other outfits, and it hits me he’s been planning this far longer than I realized.
“Start with him,” I say, tapping the first photo. “He talks when he drinks.”
We drive separately to keep the element of surprise. I go in first with Pavel, and Yuri takes the back with Thom in case the asshole runs. It’s standard procedure, but nothing about this is standard. I’m furious, and this guy will take the brunt of it if he doesn’t tell me what I want to know.
The bar is half full when we arrive. The owner, the man from the photo, pretends not to see me.
I turn to Pavel and nod. He slips behind him and locks in a quick, efficient sleeper hold.
Once he’s down, we drag him into a back hallway.
Nobody in the bar stops us or even looks twice. It’s that kind of place.
I slap him awake once we’re alone. He was out only seconds, but it still takes him a beat to come around. When he sees me, he tries to scoot back, but Pavel stands behind him, blocking any exit.
“Lev Borikov,” he whispers, fear threading his voice. “Didn’t think a man like you would be gracing me with your presence.”
“Cut the shit,” I say. “You know why I’m here. Where’s Marcus Sterling?”
“I don’t know,” he gasps, putting his hands up in surrender. “I haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“How do you know him?” I ask, pulling back my jacket to give him a glimpse of the gun at my side.
“I don’t, really,” he says desperately. “He just came in a couple weeks ago with some money and asked me to organize a hit on some club.”
“Which club?” I ask.
“Some joint on Delancey.” He shrugs like it’s nothing.
But for me, a puzzle piece clicks into place. Marcus has been behind all of it, I realize. He hit the club, he sent the photo of Mari, hell, he probably hired the fake detective. To what end, though? If all he wanted was money, he could have just taken it and run.
“Why you?” I demand.
“I know some guys with Petrov,” he answers. “Low-level guys. They keep my place safe. Marcus told me to get them to hit the club and he’d cut me in on some deal he’s working on. He didn’t give me any money, though, I swear to God. He’s been radio silent.”
I believe half of it, but he’s holding something back. Men like him always lie. They can’t help it.
“When did you say you met him?” I ask, pretending I’m just collecting information.
“A few weeks ago,” he says, right before I pistol-whip him.
“This photo is from months ago,” I say, dropping the photo of him and Marcus on his chest. “Don’t fucking lie to me again, or it’ll be a bullet next time.”
“I’m sorry, man,” he says, clutching his cheek. “Fine, I’ve known him a few months. I swear to God, no longer than that. We met at a poker game.”
He covers his face like he’s expecting another blow, and he probably deserves it, but I spare him this time.
“Who else was in the game?” I ask, standing up. “I need names.”
He starts to stall, but I pull my gun and point it at him. Within a minute, I’ve got half a dozen names, and I text them all to Yuri.
We hit a garage on Huron next, following up on our next lead while Yuri sends men to the addresses the bar owner provided. As soon as we pull up to the garage, half the men square up to greet us. They all brandish their weapons, but the owner tells them to stand down when he sees who we are.
“Forgive my guys,” he says apologetically. “They’re so ready for a fight, they can’t turn it off when royalty shows up. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
“You can tell me where the hell Marcus Sterling is,” I spit at him.
“Sterling?” he asks with faux confusion. “Sorry, pal, the name doesn’t ring a bell.”
A small twitch in his face betrays the lie. I turn to Yuri, who nods back at me.
“We really should take this in your office,” Yuri says to the man, but he doesn’t budge.
“Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of my guys,” he answers with all the charm of a snake oil salesman.
“Fine,” I say, pulling out my gun and shooting the ground two inches to the left of his foot.
He hops back, shouting, and his men go for their guns. Yuri and Pavel are quicker, though.
“I wouldn’t,” Yuri says before turning his attention to the owner. “You wanna tell them who we are? Or would you rather take this to your office?”
“Stand down,” he grunts to his men, and his tone must convey his fear, because they all holster their guns. “I haven’t seen Marcus in weeks. Last I heard, he was working on a big deal. But he did rent some warehouse space from me. I’ll get you the address.”
He goes to the front desk, grabs a piece of paper, and quickly scribbles an address with a shaky hand. He hands it to Yuri, who slips it into his jacket pocket.
“Thank you for your time,” Yuri says before grabbing me and pulling me toward the car.
“I know you’re worried, but you’ve gotta keep it in check,” Yuri reminds me in a low voice. “You can’t kill the next guy who says he doesn’t know anything. We don’t need more enemies.”
He’s right, and we both know it, but it changes nothing for me. I can and will kill the next man who can’t tell me where the hell Marcus is if it means I’ll find Mari faster. Or at the very least, if it’ll take the edge off my anger.
“We’ve got one more guy,” I remind him. “He’s a banker on Wall Street.”
We call ahead to the banker’s office, but his assistant says he hasn’t come in all week. She says he has the flu. I try to grease the wheels, but she refuses to give up his address.
“What did you say your name was?” she asks suspiciously, and I know she’s not going to be any help. The last thing I need is for her to call the cops.
“Thanks for your time,” I growl, hanging up the phone and resisting the urge to throw it out the window.
It hits me that Marcus did this on purpose. He picked people who would break easy, people who would give up information without much incentive. He’s setting traps for me.
“Where’s that address?” I ask Yuri. “The one the garage owner gave you.”
“It’s a place in Queens,” he answers, handing me the paper. “I can’t find any public records, but my gut is telling me it’s Kozlov territory. You sure you wanna take it that far?”
“We have to clear it,” I tell him. “Hunt down every lead. She could be there.”
“We’d better call in backup, just in case,” Yuri says, already on the phone to get a few teams to meet us there.
By the time we arrive, a dozen of my men are waiting, ready to move on my command.
We split them. Half approach the west side of the building, while the other half goes in on the east side.
I follow the second team. The loading bay smells like dust and old oil.
Thom slides a mirror under the side door and shakes his head.
He doesn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean it’s safe.
“On three,” I say.
We go in low, but the second we break down the door, tear gas curls out of a vent in a thin stream. It’s enough to disable us. Two figures pop out from behind a crate and start shooting. Thom drops one immediately. The other reaches for the shotgun on the crate. I take his knee and his throat.
We clear the warehouse and move room to room at a measured pace. No panic in my body. Panic serves no one. I hear shots from the catwalk and Yuri’s reply. One body hits metal and stays down.
We find an office upstairs with a single chair and a desk. On the chair is a printed note:
Nice try.
I’m seething when I hear the click of a gun behind me. I’m a second too slow, and a bullet punches into my arm, sharp and hot. I stagger back, but before I can react, Yuri shoots the man in the head. Thom pulls me out of the office and forces me down, out of range of any other unseen assailants.
“We need to get you out of here,” Yuri says as he wraps a strip of fabric around my upper arm for a makeshift tourniquet. “You’ll need stitches.”
“Later,” I grumble, ignoring the pain. “I’m not stopping until I find her.”
I hold the note between two fingers and hand it to him. He crumples it up and throws it somewhere behind him.
“He’s baiting you,” Yuri says forcefully, trying to make me see reason. “He’s setting up traps for you all over the city. We got lucky here, but we may not be so lucky in the next place. We need to take a step back and work on a better plan.”
“All clear,” Pavel shouts to us from somewhere below. “We’ve secured the perimeter. There’s no one else here. But you should know, these are Kozlov men.”
“What the hell is all this about?”
“I don’t know, boss, but we can’t stay here,” Yuri says darkly. “If this is Kozlov property, they’ll send in more men. We don’t have the numbers for an all-out war.”
“That’s what he wants,” I say, realization dawning on me. “He wants me dead, and he wants to pin it on my enemies. Then he gets to keep his hands clean while the city devolves into chaos.”
“You really think Marcus is that smart?” he scoffs. “He’s good with numbers, sure, but he’s not a warlord. That kind of planning would take months. Years, even.”
“He’s been planning this for years,” I tell him. “That’s what Mari found. He started embezzling over three years ago. He’s had time to plan this.”
Yuri nods, looking out over the now-empty warehouse. He’d kill for me. I know that much. He can’t comprehend this level of disloyalty. At the end of the day, he’s just as affected by Marcus’s betrayal as I am.
“Then let’s go kill the son of a bitch,” he says darkly, helping me up. “But after you have that wound looked at.”