Chapter 9 #3
Anatoly himself was a master. He’d grown up the son of a colonel in the KGB and he himself had spent ten years in its successor, the FSB. He knew the music of threat and violence inside out. Knew its tones and harmonies, understood them in his soul.
But then, he’d grown up in harsh surroundings.
He understood full well the way the world worked.
You were either strong or weak. Master or serf.
Like here, the place the American pretended was a very posh and expensive ‘club’, but which was a brothel.
The American would shy away from the term.
He liked to think that the men who came here belonged to some kind of fraternity of the powerful and tasteful, having found a superior way to slake their appetites.
The truth was their money bought them high grade sex.
Instead of going out into the street, where it was public and dirty, they came here, where it was private and clean.
For those who wanted complete privacy, there was a separate entrance and a suite.
They could get a fabulous meal and exactly the kind of sex they wanted for $10,000. Cheap at the price.
The advantages of being an oligarch. America seemed to be full of oligarchs, which was why Nikitin was here.
It was a good business and promised to become better when they could start bringing younger merchandise online, as per numerous requests.
Nikitin had studied the photographs of the goods now crossing the Pacific and was satisfied that they would suit any man’s tastes which ran to young girls.
Nikitin frowned at the foreign sound of a commotion in this smoothest of places.
The beautiful one, Consuelo, raised her voice again, accusing her client of pinching her. The girls here were trained not to respond to pain.
However valuable a commodity she was, Consuelo was becoming a liability.
It was exactly as if she had a disease. It needed to be contained before it spread to the other girls.
There was no place for insubordination here, where men paid a premium price for instant and abject obedience.
They got quite enough insubordination in the outside world.
The American was talking to one of his ‘security guards’.
Nikitin nearly snorted. The only thing those guards knew how to do was look good in a tuxedo. No, his own men knew how to deal with problems. Directly and forcefully.
He opened his cellphone and dialed a number.
Nikitin had to keep his men in a separate area because the American thought they spoiled the tone of the club.
But when trouble came, his men knew what to do.
Nikitin spoke with the head of his men, Ivan.
Tough and reliable. Ivan had fought in Chechnya. He knew how the world worked.
The American was still talking to his ‘security’.
Ivan appeared with no fanfare. He was dressed in black combat boots, black jeans, black tee shirt and jacket covering his shoulder rig with the GSH-18.
“Consuelo, the girl in the red dress. Find out why she’s being difficult and take care of it.”
Ivan nodded. Unlike the American’s security guards, his own men didn’t sample the wares, just like he didn’t.
They operated under military discipline until the entire business machine was set up and running smoothly.
Then they could relax. Nikitin would give his men ten of the girls to do with as they pleased when this was over.
The girls would be useless afterwards, but his men knew what to do with bodies.
Ivan liked pain, and if this Consuelo woman was still around and not at the bottom of San Diego harbor, he’d throw her, too, to Ivan and his men for exclusive use as a bonus. No matter what she earned the club, sacrifices had to be made for the sake of discipline.
“I heard she was talking to some outsider,” Ivan said in a low voice in Russian. “Some woman at a center. I think this outsider is stirring up trouble.”
Nikitin nodded. His masters were coming to America to oversee the first shipment and to get a first-hand look at their investment.
Everything had to be perfect for the vory.
Anything else was unthinkable. “We don’t need this, not now.
Find out what’s going on and put a stop to it. Teach her a lesson.”
Ivan inclined his head and turned away. Nikita could count on him. He and his men were promised a percentage of the increased business if everything went smoothly, on top of generous salaries.
“Oh, and Ivan—"
Ivan obediently turned around, big and tough and hard. Nikita had every confidence he’d take care of this.
“Make sure this woman stays away. Don’t kill because we don’t want to deal with the authorities here, but short of that, do what it takes.”
Ivan nodded and walked off.
Nikita looked over at where Consuelo was listening to Sands, head down, a rebellious expression on her face.
She truly was a beautiful woman, Nikitin thought dispassionately. Such a waste.
Duschka, Nikitin thought, your friend will learn a harsh lesson, then it will be your turn.