Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Victor
Which gave everyone just enough time to clear their schedule, but not enough time to coordinate anything insidious.
Which was exactly the point. I want them in their seats before they have finished deciding whose side they are on, if they have been given the incentive to change sides.
And I want Pavel to walk through that door without answers to my mysterious absence from last night's dinner.
I watch him from the head of the table, the way he moves through the space, the way he reads the faces of those already seated. I note the nervous way his eyes find mine, hold them for exactly three seconds, then move on. He is good, very good. The picture of composure.
He’s always been good. That’s why I’ve relied on him all these years.
I feel the weight of the folder that I’ve concealed under my jacket, the original.
A copy of which sits safely in his safe at home.
And I think about the fourth page, the one that names Yarina Koshkin as chattel.
But I don’t let the turmoil of my anger reflect on my face.
“Victor,” he says, acknowledging me with respect as he takes his seat.
“Pavel.”
As the last board member arrives, David closes the door behind him. The room holds fourteen people. Everyone who holds a vote is present. In addition, I’ve called on my top captains and Mikhail’s eldest son to be in attendance. All present to witness what I’m about to put on the table.
I let the room settle, wait for the coffee to be poured, the chairs to be adjusted to each occupant's comfort, and let the small chit-chat of preliminary conversations run their course.
All the while, I watch as Pavel squirms in his seat.
Patience is one thing he has never had, and today I use that to my utmost advantage.
Then I reach into my jacket and pull out the folder, placing it on the table in front of me. Closed, with my hand resting over it.
The room notices immediately. The conversation stops in stages, eyes turning to look at me warily.
“Eight months ago,” I start, “a private agreement was made between a member of this organization and the Koshkin family.” I open the folder and slide the first page toward the center of the table.
“Territorial access to three of our eastern shipping routes and a seat on this board were offered to the Koshkin’s,” I slide the second page, “in trade for political and financial support in assisting with a transition of leadership.” I slide the third page.
The room is silent as I continue.
“They had one additional stipulation,” I slide the fourth page onto the table. “The location and safe delivery of Yarina and Evangeline Koshkin, and their return to Nikita Koshkin’s custody.”
Heads swivel as the pages are passed around, but my eyes are locked on Pavel.
“And Yarina’s hand in marriage. To the man who made this agreement,” I make a motion toward him. “Would you like to tell them who signed it, or shall I?”
He looks at the pages just long enough to confirm they are, in fact, the contract from his safe in his home, which he signed. When he finally looks at me, his expression is the first genuine display of distress that I’ve seen from him in years.
“Where did you get these?”
“From your safe,” I say. “You know the one hidden behind that obscene painting hanging in your office.”
His eyes go dead, and the room erupts all at once. Words flow from each person in the room, except Pavel, David, and me. David is looking at Pavel. Everyone else is looking at me.
“This is a fabricated lie,” he protests. Loud enough for everyone to hear, and the room starts to quiet instantly. “I don’t know where you pulled these from but they are—”
“Your signature is on the fourth page,” I say. Pointing to the pages. “And only yours. No one else.” I hold his gaze, unblinking. “I had it verified this morning.”
The silence that follows is weighted.
“The woman,” one of the captains says. Gregor. He’s been with the organization for twenty years. “The one in the agreement. Who is she?”
“She is under my protection,” I say. “That’s who she is.”
“She’s a Koshkin,” Pavel says too quickly. Causing eyebrows to rise. “She stole Nikita Koshkin’s daughter. Ran from the organization, they want her back. Whatever she has told you—”
“So you admit that you have spoken with Nikita Koshkin,” I demand. “This contract is between the two of you. For her support when you make a move for my seat.”
Pavel goes silent, staring at me with anger evident in his eyes.
“You have been building toward that goal for the past eight months,” I continue.
“You removed Mikhail because he discovered something didn’t he?
So you fabricated the evidence against him.
Kept your dealings beyond this organization's channels. Then took him out before anyone could discover what you had done.” I look at him steadily, leaning forward in my seat, my hands lacing together on the table top.
“Then you arranged to have a woman who has been running for good reason for three years found and delivered like meat on a platter. And all the while you sat across from me at every board meeting, called me Pakhan, all while planning my downfall.”
“I did what was necessary,” he says in a low voice.
“For whom, exactly?”
“For this organization,” he says defiantly.
“You were never supposed to be Pakhan in the first place. Boris was, and he would have been. When he died you stepped into a position that was not meant for you. And some of us have been watching and waiting for the past seven years for you to fail.” He looks around the table, at the others.
“The Koshkins are powerful, and they agree with me. An alliance with them would strengthen us significantly. All it requires is —”
“The hand of a woman, who hasn’t been consulted,” I say. “And my removal from power.”
“She’s a Koshkin, she should know her place.” Pavel says, “she belongs to the family by blood and obligation. And she took something that isn’t hers to take. Marriage is a kindness when you consider the alternatives.”
I am on my feet in a second, and I can feel the anger brewing in my chest.
“She took that child because she was being abused. And she kept that child alive,” I say. “With nothing. No help. And she will not be handed over to anyone. Not to you, and certainly not to Nikita.”
I look around the room, at every face present, making sure each one understands what I am saying is not rhetoric.
“Pavel Breshnev is hereby removed from this board effective immediately. He is hereby charged with conspiracy, and planning to murder of the Pakhan. His assets are frozen, access to all organizational channels is revoked as of this moment.” I look at David, who nods.
Just once. “And he will answer for the death of my Uncle Mikhail Rozovsky.”
I see his eyes flicker with panic in the same instant I see him shift his shoulders, and I’m already moving before the gun slides from its holster. But not fast enough.
The shot rings out, echoing through the club just as it had the night Mikhail had died, and a familiar burning sensation blossoms in my shoulder. It slows my momentum, but doesn’t take me down. I put my hand to the wound and stay on my feet.
David is on him before the echo clears. Two of the captains are up and moving just behind him. Pavel goes to the floor, his gun knocked from his hand three feet away, before I can blink back the pain, David’s knee in his back, his wrists secured in under ten seconds.
“Gregor, Ivan,” I name the two captains. “Take him to the penthouse, hold him there until I decide what to do with him. David, you stay.”
I stand at the head of the table, my hand at my shoulder, blood seeping slowly from the wound, and let my silence settle the room as Pavel is taken away. “The rest of you, sit down.”
They sit. Every one of them.
“Would anyone else like to join Pavel in custody?” I wait about sixty seconds, then address Mikhail’s eldest directly. “I’m sorry about your father,” I tell him, “he was a good man. He didn’t deserve what was done to him.”
He holds my gaze, then nods. It is enough.
“This meeting is adjourned.” I announce as David appears at my shoulder. Phone in hand, his expression concerned.
“Victor,” he says. Low enough that only I can hear him. “It’s Alex, and Evie.”
“What happened?”
“They wanted to leave. Vera and Boris were taking them to the penthouse,” he keeps his voice even.
“The car was hit a block from the building. Twenty minutes ago.” He meets my gaze then.
“Boris is dead, killed on impact. Vera is hurt but alive. Koshkin’s men were waiting for them. They took Alex and Evie.”
I go very still then, my shoulder bleeding through my shirt, and my jacket forgotten momentarily.
“David, I want everyone. Every man we have. Armed and ready to move in twenty minutes. We meet here,” I take my hand from my shoulder and look at the blood on my palm, then decide to put it back. “We are going to the Koshkin estate.”
“Victor, your shoulder–”
“You’ve got twenty minutes to patch me up,” I tell him.
I look around the room, and no one has moved through the entire exchange, despite my announcement that the meeting was adjourned.
And right now, I’m thankful for the lack of urgency in those gathered to return to their normal responsibilities.
I let them see exactly what I am feeling, which is the thing I almost never allow to be seen.
“The Koshkins have taken my wife.” The word wife causes a murmur to run across the table, and I wait for them to digest it. It brings their attention to the moment exactly as I intended, sharp and clean. “As well as her daughter.” I look at David. “We are going to get them back.”