Chapter 17 Dimitri #2
Vadim and I take the left guard while Fyodor moves right.
We're on them before they realize what's happening.
I put two rounds in my target's chest and he drops without making a sound.
The other guard tries to reach for his weapon, but Fyodor shoots him in the head before he can clear his holster.
Unfortunately, the whole interchange is loud and I'm sure we've tipped off everyone inside the building.
"Inside," Vadim barks as he kicks open the warehouse door, and we move through in formation.
The interior's mostly empty except for old machinery and stacked pallets.
We clear the first room and move deeper into the building following the sound of voices coming from somewhere in the back.
They're talking in harsh, clipped tones, saying something about getting out of there in a Serbian dialect.
A door at the end of a hallway stands partially open with light spilling out, and I can hear at least three voices inside, one of them louder than the others.
Vadim counts down with his fingers. Three.
Two. One. Then we breach the door, and everything happens at once.
There are four men inside and they all reach for weapons.
I put down the closest one with a shot to the chest that has him clutching himself as crimson blooms on his shirt.
Fyodor takes out another with two quick rounds that make my ears ring while the third man gets a shot off that goes wide before Vadim drops him.
That leaves Anton Petrov backed against the far wall with his hands up.
It's been a very long time since I've seen the fucker up close, and man has he gotten old.
Vadim and Fyodor keep their guns trained on him as I advance, shaking my head.
So this is the fucker who killed my informant without mercy on my property.
"Don't shoot." His voice shakes. "I'm unarmed."
"We know exactly who you are." I walk toward him with my gun pointed at his chest. "You killed Yakov outside my casino, you sick bastard. And what a shame that I'm here to see to it that you understand why that was a very bad choice."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He's sweating, large, pearlescent beads that roll down his forehead and bulbous nose. "I wasn't anywhere near your casino."
"We've got you on camera." Vadim moves to block the door. "Getting out of your car. Walking into the alley. Driving away after you put a bullet in his head."
"That wasn't me." Petrov looks between the three of us, trying to figure out if there's any way out of this. "You've got the wrong guy." Famous last words to every man who ever did anything wrong. I'm not even surprised at his disgusting denial.
"No, we don't." I grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall. "And you're going to tell us everything you know about the Kozlov operation before I put a bullet in your skull."
Petrov tries to back away, but there's nowhere to go. His hands are trembling and I swear any second, he will piss himself.
"I don't know anything." He's choking now as my grip tightens. "I'm just a soldier. They don't tell me shit."
Fyodor walks over with a knife in his hand. "Let's see if we can help you remember."
I release Petrov's throat, and Fyodor grabs his right hand, spreading the fingers flat against the wall. The knife comes down fast and pins his pinky finger to the concrete. Petrov screams.
"That's one." Fyodor twists the blade as blood spray paints the wall and runs down to the floor. "You've got nine more. Start talking or we keep going."
"Fuck you." Petrov's face is white with pain but he's stubborn, not giving up. "I'm not telling you anything."
Vadim pulls out his own knife and moves to Petrov's other side. "Wrong answer," he growls, and I realize just how ruthless these guys are. It makes me feel even more confident that under my brother's leadership, we will finish this once and for all.
The blade goes through Petrov's left hand, and another scream echoes off the warehouse walls as more blood runs down the concrete and pools on the floor. Petrov blubbers like a fool, pressing his head into the wall behind him, and I'm not about to give up as he slides lower, his knees giving out.
"The Kozlovs sent you to kill Yakov." I crouch down so I'm eye level with him. "We know that much already. What we need to know is why now? Why execute him on my property instead of handling it quietly?"
"Go to hell." Petrov spits at my feet and glares at me. Whoever trained him to withstand torture did their job well. He must be ex-Special Forces or something.
I stand up and nod at Fyodor, who pulls the knife from Petrov's right hand. The finger comes with it, severed completely. Petrov's screams turn into sobs before Fyodor’s blade sinks into the man's shoulder deep and hard, causing more screams, louder than the first ones.
"We can do this all day." I check my watch and realize I have blood on my shirt sleeve. Annoyed, I say, "Or you can tell us what we want to know and I'll make it quick."
"They'll kill my family." Petrov's sobs turn into whimpers. Malcom has leverage over him. "If I talk, they'll kill everyone I love."
"They're going to do that anyway once they find out we got to you.
" Vadim pulls his knife clean, and Petrov growls in pain.
"At least this way, you die knowing you tried.
" I think that's the thing that breaks him.
I stoop down, pressing my thumb into his shoulder wound, and he winces and grits his teeth, then forces out words.
"Alright! Alright, I'll tell you."
"Start with why you killed Yakov." I push my finger in harder, and he winces again.
"He was stealing from us. Selling information to the Gravitches." Petrov gasps as Vadim applies more pressure with the knife. "Malcom wanted to send a message to show you we could operate on your property whenever we wanted."
"What else?" Fyodor cleans his bloody knife on Petrov's shoulder and says, "Keep talking."
"The Kozlovs and what's left of the Veche family have aligned." The words tumble out faster now, like he thinks saying them will save his life. "They're planning something big. A coordinated strike against all your operations."
"When?" I lean in. "Give me a date."
"I don't know." Petrov shakes his head frantically. "They don't share that with guys like me. All I know is it's soon."
"Soon isn't good enough." Vadim pushes the knife deeper, and Petrov screams again. "Give us something specific."
"Within the month." Blood bubbles from Petrov's shoulder wound when he coughs, staining his nice shirt in bright red. "That's all I heard. Within the month, they're gonna hit all the Gravitch locations at once and wipe out the whole family."
"Who's leading it?" Fyodor grabs Petrov's face. "Names."
"I can't." Fresh tears run down his cheeks. "Please, I've told you everything I know."
"No, you haven't." I pull my gun and press it against his kneecap. "Who's leading the operation?"
"Wait, wait." Petrov's eyes go wide. "There's someone new. Someone from outside who's coordinating everything between the Kozlovs and the Veches. That's all I know, I swear."
"A name." I cock the gun. "Give me a fucking name."
"I don't have one." He's hyperventilating now. "They don't use names. Everything goes through intermediaries—they use codes. After Popovi? was taken out, someone else took his place. Please, that's all I know."
I look at Vadim and Fyodor. Both of them nod. We've gotten everything we're going to get from him.
"Alright." I step back and raise my gun to point at Petrov's head. "Time's up."
"Wait." He holds up his mangled hands. "Wait, please. I told you everything. Don’t I deserve a break?"
"Sure… You get to die faster." I pull the trigger, and his head snaps back against the wall hard, and bone fragments along with blood spatter stain the wall before he slides downward, leaving a blood trail on the concrete.
This isn't at all what I hoped to hear, but it's not shocking. We already assumed this was the case anyway, but hearing it confirmed from someone on the inside just makes it more real.
"We need to tell Yuri about this alliance." Vadim holsters his weapon. "If they're planning a coordinated strike, we need to prepare."
"I'll call him on the way back." I step over Petrov's body and head for the door. "Let's get out of here before someone calls the police."
We leave the warehouse the same way we came in, and no one tries to stop us. The neighborhood's too rundown for anyone to care about gunshots, and by the time the cops show up, we'll be long gone, anyway.
The bad part about all of this is having to return to Tatiana and let her know that this is way bigger than we thought, and it doesn't matter that the men who saw her face are dead now. She has gotten caught up in a much larger issue, and I'm not sure how we'll fix it now.
But I can't let her go until it's done.
And she's going to hate me by then.