Chapter 51
fifty-one
“The London Bratva is hemorrhaging money,” Mark’s voice drones over the video chat.
He is briefing Ivan on everything we have learned so far.
I search through the new images Mark has sent over.
My brilliant wife managed to break Libby’s code and obtain at least a terabyte of new information we never had before.
We’ve been in London nearly two weeks and we still aren’t any closer to bringing Kirill down.
I frown. Thoughts of Kenzi pop into my mind.
We left her with Leon at the airport, but that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Kenzi can easily take care of herself. The training the Dollhouse provided her with was extensive.
I am worried she will be blindsided by her relationship with her brother.
Afraid she won’t see the killing blow coming because she underestimated him.
Libby had been the gentlest and sweetest girl I had ever known. Vas fell head over heels with her kindness and love for others and Christian killed her for her perceived betrayal. She stood in the way of what he wanted.
Ava.
“What’s that?” Ivan leans forward for a better look at whatever Mark is showing him. “Her cane, can you zoom in on it?” Mark snorts.
“Can I zoom in on it?” He mocks Ivan. There is still salt in the wound I see. “Of course, I can zoom in on it. An ape can zoom in on this.” He pauses, his eyes flitting to Ivan. “Well, most apes.” If my brother catches the insult he doesn’t respond, too focused on the photo in front of him.
“Ava was curious about the cane as well,” Mark adds. “Especially this.” The photo grows larger, focusing on the small crest just below the silver cross of the cane, etched into the wood.
“That is odd,” Ivan murmurs. “I recognize the cane. Kirill has one with this same symbol carved into it.”
“How is that odd?” I ask.
“Not odd in the sense that he has the same cane,” Ivan explains.
“But this is the Eye of Providence.” He points to the lidless eye in the middle of the symbol.
“And this is the Seal of Solomon.” His finger sweeps around the rest of the symbol which is depicted as a pentagram inside of a perfect circle.
“Isn’t the Seal of Solomon a legend?” Mark inquires. “An alchemic symbol thought to control demons and such?” Ivan nods.
“It has had many meanings throughout history,” he breathes.
“Same as the Illuminati symbol. It all depends on who you ask and what time-period you are sifting through. The Eye of Providence, as it is attributed to the Illuminati, is the All-Seeing Eye. Meaning that they have eyes everywhere. Can see everything.”
“Big brother is watching,” Mark smirks.
“Something like that,” Ivan agrees. “In other parts it means wisdom and protection. Some believe it is a variation of the Eye of Horus in Egyptian Mythology which is restoration and protection.” I listen intently, pride spreading warmly through my chest at hearing my brother’s depth of knowledge.
He is smart. Obviously well-educated and the passion he exudes catches me up and holds me hostage.
“You know a lot about this.”
Redness creeps up Ivan’s neck. He shoots me a small, bashful smile. “I’ve always had a passion for history and symbolism.”
I nod and smile at him.
“Do you have other pictures of people with this cane and symbol?” Ivan questions, turning his attention back to Mark who nods.
“A few,” the hacker confirms. “The cane itself is rather common, but there are very few I found that have that exact symbol. The first one is this lady.” An image of a woman they identified as Madam Therese fills the screen. “From what we’ve gathered, she’s a buyer for the Dollhouse.”
Ivan takes a moment to study the picture before announcing that he knows her.
“I have seen her meet with Kirill on several occasions,” he admits. “That explains a lot actually.”
Puzzled, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Ivan swallows, his throat bobbing as a slash of anger cuts through his features before disappearing. “Kirill has that same cane. With that exact symbol carved into the wood.”
Crickets.
“Do you think he is a buyer?”
“Or a client?” Mark adds.
“Both,” Ivan whispers, his gaze turning to me.
“If he’s involved with the Dollhouse, I think he is more than just a client.
I doubt clients are given a special decoder cane and I highly doubt Kirill can afford their services if he isn’t part of the inner circle.
Which means, he’s helping supply them while skimming off the top. ”
“The assassination attempts.” Everything is becoming clearer. The threads of fate weave the tapestry of my childhood, starting to come together to reveal Kirill’s grand design.
“How many were there?”
I scoff. “More than anyone should have to count,” I tell him, bitterness coating my tongue. “After Antony, they come every few months. The older I grow the more frequent the attempts become.”
“He was growing desperate. Why?”
“Matthias is the only one who can identify your mother,” Dima speaks up from the doorway.
The three of us missed the unlocking of the hotel room door.
“Think about it,” he steps into the room handing out the bags of food we ordered.
“If it was about straight up succession, he would have made an attempt on your brothers.”
“He did,” Mark points out.
“Eh,” Mark scrunches his nose. “Not really, though. Yes, he manipulated your brother into hunting down Matthias. How he did that, you’ll have to ask him yourself, but I honestly don’t believe that he expected Matthias to kill him.”
Dima makes a valid point. If Kirill wanted to remove the obstacles in his way of direct succession, he could have taken out Antony and Ivan long before he came after me.
“Antony was collateral,” Ivan snarls. “Either way, Kirill won. Our brother either killed you and his secret was safe, or you kill Antony and that was one less person in his way.”
“Son of a bitch!” he roars, his fists clenching and unclenching as he fights the urge to destroy the room in his rage. “That motherfucking asshole.”
Kirill is playing a long game. Building an army for his war, but he is ill prepared. If the information we have gathered is accurate, it means that Kirill is slipping. Or it is all a ruse, and we are walking into a trap.
“What are you doing?”
A feminine voice crackles through the speakers of the tablet.
Ava.
Closing my eyes, I let the familiar sound of her voice wash over me. Fuck, I miss her. Mark stutters something, his back keeping us from her view.
“We’re heading to Portland,” her soft voice is like a drug to me. “Can you gather some information for me? Sully O’Malley wants a sit down and I need some dirt to take with me.”
“Yeah,” Mark tells her anxiously. “I can do that. Just give me half an hour, I’m finishing up with a few things.”
“What are you doing?”
“Uh, nothing,” Mark panics as he tries to keep Ava from viewing our video feed. Growling, Dima shoves Ivan out of the way of the camera and sits down, food in hand. “Look it’s…”
“Privet, Dima,” Ava’s face pops into view. I stand just off camera so that her view of me is blocked, but I can see everything. “Kak dela?”
Fuck why is her asking how Dima is doing in Russian such a turn on.
Ivan stares at me, his gaze wandering to the tent in my jeans and raises his brows.
“Really?” he mouths. I narrow my eyes at him and quietly readjust myself.
“Fuck off.” I mouth back. He snorts.
“Who’s there with you?” Ava asks curiously, peering closer to the screen as if she thinks it will make her see further into the room.
“No one,” Dima waves a hand at her. “Television.”
Ava scrunches her nose. “You don’t like to watch television.”
She has him there, but Dima just shrugs it off.
“Thought I’d try it while I am here.”
“Well,” Ava sighs despondently. “Alright then. When are you coming home?”
Home.
“Soon,” Dima promises. “I’ll be coming soon, Pakhan.”
Ava smiles at him through the screen.
“Okay then,” she lets out a wistful sigh but otherwise leaves it alone. “Be safe, Dima.”
Dima nods his head at her and gives her a small smile. Then she is gone.
“That was close,” Mark mutters underneath his breath a few moments after the door clicks shut behind him.
“Too close,” I growl.
Ivan chuckles. “That is what you get for not including her in the plan.”
Fuck him.
“Trust me,” Dima mutters petulantly. “We’ve all told him the same thing. But honestly, it was very last minute, and Ava has a horrible poker face.”
Ivan tilts his head. He can’t argue with that. He knows from experience just how bad Ava is at lying.
“We need to get back on track here,” I chastise them. “What are we going to do about Kirill?”
My brother sighs and runs a hand down his tired and worn face. For years he hunted and searched for the truth behind Antony’s disappearance. I cannot begin to imagine what he had to do in order to gain the necessary information.
I have to hand it to Ivan. He is creative and willing to get his hands dirty. He is smart and cunning, devious, and brave. That doesn’t mean we are suddenly going to have sleepovers and bond over sports, especially after his involvement with Ava’s kidnapping, but it is a foundation.
Plus, slitting Kirill’s throat is a great brother bonding activity in my opinion.
“I can’t touch him without our father’s approval.
” The carefree way he says our father both warms and tightens my chest. Tomas has always been my father.
He raised me from a savage, rage filled boy to the man I am today.
Those times were hard, yes, but I recall those halcyon days training under him with Vas as the best days of my life.
I still remember the first time he called me son.
Vas and I successfully took down the inner-city gang that had been controlling parts of north Boston.
They terrorized the residents, stole women and children from the streets to sell, and forced businesses to pay an insane protection fee that nearly bankrupted half their territory.
A territory that once belonged to the Bratva.
We took it back.
“What kind of proof do you need?” Mark’s fingers fly across his keyboard and moments later document after document pop onto the screen.
“I don’t have any proof regarding your mother,” Mark hedges nervously.
“His tracks are too well covered. But these all prove he’s been skimming off the top for years. ”
“That might not be enough,” Ivan admits sadly. “Kirill is one of our father’s most trusted advisors. He was there for him in his darkest times. Even if he is the cause of it, our father isn’t aware of that.”
“He won’t believe his own son?”
Ivan’s face falls, hurt shining through his platinum gray eyes.
“We had a falling out many years ago,” Ivan tells us. “It is why I went undercover as an FBI agent. To prove what Kirill had been doing. That he was the cause of all our misfortune.”
Putting my hand on my brother’s shoulder, I grip it tight, giving him my silent support. We need to prove to Andrei that the evidence against Kirill is true.
“Kirill thinks you’re dead, right?” Mark’s lips turn up mischievously.
“Yes. Why does that matter now?”
“Because he finally got what he wanted after all these years.”
“I’m not following.”
“The one piece of evidence that could tear apart all of his plans,” Mark explains. “He believes to be dead. Which means—”
“He won’t see me coming.”