Chapter 9 #2
My blood boils. She was chased away. She didn’t want to leave.
She was forced to leave a city she loved by a man who mistook her kindness for consent.
I don’t need to know his name to know he’s already dead.
Jesus if I kill everyone who hurts her or makes her uncomfortable then I’ll seriously never sleep, not to mention my brothers will be right and I’ll wind up caught and in prison.
I agreed to no more bodies, but this can’t stand.
Without even knowing the man’s name, I know I’ll rid the earth of him.
Someday, soon, when I have Lindy in my arms and she’s telling me herself why she left London, I want to be able to assure her that this man no longer dirties the same planet as her.
I close the email and dial Adrian’s number.
“Get me his name. His address. His fucking social. I want it all.”
“Good morning to you too, brother.”
“Adrian.” His name comes out rough. I open my front door and head out.
“I already have all that. I just chose to omit it.”
“Why are you fucking with me?”
“Because, Cassius, this woman has you spiraling. Listen to yourself. You’re obsessed and all you’ve done is text her a few times. Why does she have you so twisted up? It’s dangerous. For you and for the rest of us.”
“She’s pure goodness, Adrian.” I will him to understand that she’s golden sunlight, who came into my life because of fate or divine intervention.
Neither of which I believe in. She texted me by complete accident, on a fucking burner phone at that.
There has to be some higher power initiating this shit.
She is supposed to be mine. I have to protect her.
God, probably fortunately for him, never crossed my mind before Melinda. I was born knowing I’d spend my life walking through fire and spend my eternity in hell. I accept that, made peace with it the day I chose to end my father’s life.
“Look,” I continue when Adrian stays quiet. “I have no clue why things played out the way they did. Why text my burner, why not yours or Atlas’ or Caleb’s? We’ve had how many burners, hundreds? This has never happened. There has to be a reason.”
“You getting religious on me?”
“She’s my sanctuary. The only thing I’ll ever worship.
For the first time ever she has me thinking maybe there’s more to life than darkness and blood and sleepless nights.
Hope, Adrian, she gives me hope. Can’t say I’ve ever dared to even think that way before her, and for some reason she was dropped in my lap. ”
“And you intended to keep her there?”
“No.”
“Even if it gets you killed, or worse, arrested?”
“Adrian, I said no.”
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean I want you to kill my access. Don’t get overly excited. It’s not forever, but for the next seventy-two hours cut it all.”
“You’re serious. Why?”
“You guys weren’t wrong. I’m not thinking straight. I want to make sure these bodies don’t find a way to screw her over.”
“Then why not forever?”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it. It’s better for her, for us, if I stay away but how do I go back to living in the dark when I’ve tasted the light?”
“I’m not going to pretend to understand your obsession with this woman, but tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
“Cut my access and don’t turn it on again for seventy-two hours.
Not even if I ask before then. And send the shit you left out about her boss.
I’ll do the rest.” I hang up my phone and slide onto my Harley.
My phone vibrates in my vest breast pocket and I know that Adrian has sent me the information I need, but it’ll have to wait.
The early morning air whips past me as I weave my bike through the neon-lit streets of Vegas, the lights, like the city, never shut off.
The roar of the engine beneath me is a thrilling pulse against the backdrop of the city's ceaseless energy.
The Strip blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors, each casino and hotel vying for attention with dazzling lights and towering signs.
It’s only when my ass is on this seat that I feel an unparalleled sense of freedom, the constraints of my work dissolving into the wind that races by. It's just me, the road, and the steady heartbeat of my Harley, the rhythm of the city syncing perfectly with my own.
I head to the warehouse, our usual spot for poker nights, but tonight, it's the privacy I'm after.
There's a phone call I need to make, one that can't risk eavesdroppers or unintended listeners.
As I dodge taxis and tourists, the energy of Vegas fuels me, its vibrant pulse a mirror to my own restless spirit.
I park behind the warehouse. I’m sure there are witnesses that see me and my brothers coming and going on occasion, but I highly doubt any of them would say anything if asked.
A select few of our clients have been here when we invite them for poker night, but aside from that no one has seen the inside of this building except family and the Accord.
We don’t keep anything here but a plastic table, folding chairs, and decks of cards.
We try to keep this place clean, but on occasion we use its privacy for our more sensitive matters.
I sit in one of the flimsy chairs and pull out my work phone, not the burner I talk to Melinda and my brothers on.
This one is for one thing only: ending human life.
I dial the number. I don’t keep a single contact or call log in this phone and lucky for me, my photographic memory keeps the only one this phone ever dials safely locked up in my head where no enemy or cop will ever reach it.
“Yeah?” Sava’s voice answers before the first ring merges into the second.
“When will you be in London?”
“I just stepped off the plane. What are you tracking me?”
“No. Just hoped I got lucky. I know you make frequent trips.”
“Hoped?”
“Yeah, shocks the shit out of me too. But hope is my theme this evening.” I almost smile and that surprises me. I wasn’t sure my face knew how to do that. “The text you just got lays out the details. I need confirmation when it’s done.”
“I don’t work for free, Cassius.”
“I’m well aware, Savannah. How much?”
“I don’t want your money. I want you in my debt,” she says.
Favors in my line of work are something I go out of my way to avoid.
I don’t want to owe anyone a damn thing, especially when that thing is likely going to be the exact thing I’m asking Sava to do now.
Melinda’s impeccable face flashes in my mind and any argument I was going to make dissolves.
“Fine.” I grit out. I owe Sava now, something that will cost me a lot more than money.
She can recall the favor at any time, for any reason, and I will repay her.
I have to. There’s no take backs in our world.
Your word is the only thing you got that’s worth a fuck.
I lose that, I may as well put a bullet in my own brain.
Sava hangs up first and I let the enormity of what I put in motion sink in.
I must’ve dozed off because my work phone’s ring echoing through the mostly empty warehouse jolts me awake.
“Yeah?” I scoot up in the dumb as fuck folding chair, confused, yawning, and grateful I didn’t fall out of the damn thing.
“I sent you a new file.”
“God damn it Travis, have you ever heard of a day off?”
“How many times have I told you to call me Caldwell?”
“How many times have I told you we’re not a crime drama and I refuse to use only your last name?”
The only time I hear from dear ol’ Travis is when he and his CIA buddies have an irrefutable lead on a leader of Spiderweb.
They find them and I eliminate them. It’s a beautiful partnership that grew from Travis walking in on me gouging out the eyeballs of a man with a Sharpie.
The detail that got me off the hook was that man happened to have taken Travis’ sister along with a slew of other women.
Travis conveniently forgot to arrest me before I fled the scene, but not before I left my calling card discarded at his feet.
That was eleven years ago. He refuses to come to poker.
He says he can’t compromise his identity.
I personally think it’s because he sucks ass at poker and is afraid we’d take his house or murder his family or some shit.
Spiderweb runs as a cell swarm, semi-independent crews answering to a board known as Spider.
Eight legs, eight jobs: Intelligence (Adrian’s kind of techy shit), Finance (Caleb’s bullshit), Operations (keeping their stupid-ass legs in line), Enforcement (bastards who do all the dirty work including snatch people off the street), Cover (they have their own people in law enforcement just like us), Weapons, Drugs, and International (moving all their human and non-human product).
Cut one, the rest keep crawling. Their leadership is elusive, highly secretive, and changes often to prevent legit law enforcement from dismantling the organization.
When one leader is taken out, another is appointed from within the ranks, making the organization extremely hard to kill.
That structure, one boss per lane with a crew underneath, mirrors the Accord and the operations at Ashenheart Defense Agency.
I’m the blade, but I’ve got a whole network of people underneath me and alongside me, including Uncle Leven and Sava.
Adrian is top of the digital food chain for sure, but the hackers who work for him reach every corner of this Earth.
Caleb makes money multiply and disappear and hides that shit in places I couldn’t name.
The people he’s associated with are all genius level math lovers, nerds, but nerds who keep us all well paid.
Atlas is the most evasive, he relies on his ability to read people and situations.
His network is small. Skills like the ones he possesses aren’t common.
Unlike Spiderweb, we don’t exploit vulnerable populations across continents, traffic individuals for labor, sexual exploitation, and organ harvesting.
We definitely aren’t key players in the international drug trade.
We don’t manufacture or distribute narcotics.
We avoid dealing in illegal arms. Shit, maybe we’re not so similar after all.
“You’ll have to act fast. He’s in Vegas. I just found out today, but he flies out in the morning.”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t.” I hang up the phone and download the new file.
CONFIDENTIAL-FOR IMMEDIATE ACTION
Subject Profile:
Name: Oleg Vetrovski
Date of Birth: 15 March 1982
Role: Senior Arms Dealer
Current Location: The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas
Room: 2310
Duration: One night only (Immediate action required)
Background:
Vetrovski is a key figure in Spiderweb, an international terrorist organization involved in human trafficking, drug trafficking, and arms dealing. Specializes in the latter, with a notorious reputation for facilitating arms deals across Europe, Asia, and the Americas.
Family Relations:
- Wife: Ekaterina (Non-active in organization activities)
- Son: Mikhail (Age 12)
- Daughter: Anastasia (Age 9)
Note: Family is currently located in Moscow and poses no immediate threat or relevance to activities in Las Vegas.
Intelligence Summary:
In Las Vegas under the guise of a high-stakes gambler.
True purpose is to finalize a significant arms deal involving the shipment of military-grade weapons.
Exchange is scheduled to occur within the next 24 hours.
Presence at The Venetian is a rare opportunity to intercept and eliminate a high-value target within Spiderweb’s hierarchy.
Operational Notes:
- Expect Vetrovski to be heavily guarded. Anticipate at least two close protection operatives with military backgrounds.
- He is known to frequent the casino floor during late hours, blending in with the crowd.
- Extreme caution and discretion are advised. Collateral damage must be minimized to avoid international repercussions.
- A successful operation will significantly disrupt Spiderweb’s arms trafficking capabilities and destabilize their operational structure in the region.
End of Brief.