6. Dimitri
6
DIMITRI
30-YEARS-OLD
San Francisco
I climb out of the car, fumbling for the keys to let myself into my house on the family estate. We live in Pacific Heights, amongst the bankers, lawyers, and surgeons. Jacob isn’t one of them, though. No, my stepfather is an entirely different entity.
As I’ve recuperated here after my surgery, I’ve learned something.
The organization he heads is more like the one I’ve just been discharged from than I’d ever realized. I had judged his work harshly and always thought I’d never be part of it, but as I’ve spent more time with him, I’ve realized I might be a better fit than I ever thought. Particularly now that my beast is snapping at my heels again, and the Marines discharged me.
I’ve been at a loose end since my military career ended, and a few times now, Jacob has asked me if I wanted to sit in on a poker game. I accepted and grew to like the camaraderie amongst his men.
The soothing sound of Russian being spoken, the smell of cigar smoke in the room, and the shuffling of the cards have made those nights like goddamn therapy for me.
They aren’t raucous but relaxed. In fact, Jacob is the very definition of speak softly and carry a big stick .
He wants me working for him, but joining the business would be a huge step away from what my life has been about so far.
A Russian-American who is fiercely patriotic to his new home shouldn’t be considering working for a criminal organization. Still, it wouldn’t be my country if Jacob hadn’t formally adopted me. I owe him. He gave me a steady hand when I needed it. He adopted me. Married my mother. Paid for my rehab.
Shit.
Across the gravel a sleek, dark car pulls up, and my stepsister hops out. I glance at my watch.
She’s home from school a little late today. She has tennis lessons soon, so she’ll need to change fast. Nataliya’s a teenager now, and she’s blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Jacob says he won’t let her date until she’s at least thirty. I laugh to myself as I unlock my door. Good luck with that. Nataliya is precocious and confident, and I think Jacob and Mamma are about to have a real battle on their hands.
I might be able to help. She looks up to me and has always acted as if I’m her hero. That never changed. Not even after the injury.
When everyone else looked at me with pity, she looked at me as if I was stronger than ever.
Nataliya is one of my favorite people on this earth, and I couldn’t love her more if she were my sister by blood.
I throw my gym bag on the table and head to the shower upstairs.
Under the water, for some reason my mind flicks back in time to Italy.
The betrayal of my stepfather. The shit I did too.
I often think back to that day with the farmer’s wife and feel burning shame. I was a fucking asshole. She’d done my mamma wrong, but what I did was bad too. Not taking her jewelry, she deserved that, but the other fucked up thing.
Then not finding the note, and us leaving so suddenly. It’s like a bad nightmare now.
The note.
Stepping out of the shower, I dry off.
Hating myself for doing it, I head to the box in the bottom of my sock drawer. I take it out and open it.
The note sits there, taunting me.
I did find it. Two years ago, while home on leave, amongst Mamma’s old dusty books in the attic. I wasn’t even looking for it, and there it was. In the pages of a Russian novel.
I brush my fingers over it but can’t bring myself to open it. My father wasn’t the strong man Russian Nonna told me about. Anton was right about him. He’d been weak. Sick in the head.
I fear his weakness, the sickness he had, lives in me too.
Reading that note did me no good. I’d rather have never found it. The knowledge of its contents is a poison slowly filling me.
I understand why Mamma hid it. The secrets it holds can do no good. What I don’t understand is why she kept it in the first place. Now here I am doing the same fucking thing. It’s like some sick compulsion.
Hands shaking, I tuck the box away and suck in air. Jesus, that shit torments me every time.
I’m glad that I swore to myself when I was in Italy never to marry, because I will never have children. Not now that I know about my father. And wives want kids.
My phone beeps. The text is from an ex, a girl I dated a few years ago on and off between deployments. She’s in town and wondering if I fancy hooking up. I glance down at my leg. The scar is healing well, and my limp is not noticeable unless you really look.
Why not? I need a distraction from the dread looking at the note has instilled in me.
I reply, saying I’ll meet her later at her hotel and ask for the room number.
Then I make an extra effort dressing. I want to make a good impression. This will be the first time with a woman in many, many months. The first time since the explosion when my life changed irrevocably.
Spraying on aftershave, I check my reflection and head downstairs. Jacob is picking Nataliya up after her tennis lesson, and Mamma and I are meeting them at Zuma Vani for a meal. After which, I’ll head to the hotel.
The light is flashing on the answering machine in the hallway. It’s a message from the hospital, asking if I can call about changing my rehab assessment. I must listen carefully, as it takes effort now to parse words and sentences.
The hearing in my left ear is still affected, which means words don’t always make immediate sense. It’s the strangest thing. I can hear the sounds, but the fact that one ear is more muffled means that it takes longer to understand those sounds. Syllables and vowels and consonants have become like a new language.
The familiar, musical patterns of sentences are a new symphony to me now. Something I must learn anew.
I leave the house to head for North Beach and the restaurant. I’m ten minutes away, crawling in traffic when my phone rings. I press answer, and Jacob’s voice fills the car.
The moment he speaks tension fills my body. My immediate thought is my mother. I’ve never heard his voice this way. Broken .
“Dimitri?”
“Yes, what’s wrong?”
“They’ve taken Nataliya.”
My stomach plummets, and I suck in air. What the fuck? “Who has?”
“Some group we crossed swords with. Mid-level thugs. The bare bones of the old Russian group we destroyed and took over, and a Greek faction they work with.” His voice cracks. “The things they might do to her…”
I veer into a parking lot because I can’t focus on the road. “Tell me everything,” I say.
He does. Some of these men were the ones Jacob pushed out when he took over and consolidated his position in California. That makes it personal, not merely business gone wrong.
“I can find out where they have her,” he says. “I have contacts everywhere. Getting her back though … my men can kill, but this requires a different skillset. I need someone who knows how to extract a hostage.”
I rub my jaw. “You want me ?” It feels strange, being asked when I’ve failed at the very thing he is asking of me. After all, I got my friend killed. I failed in my military career. I can’t be that good.
He breathes out severely. “Dimitri, you’re the only fucking person I trust with this.”
His words sit heavy.
“Can you gather some men together? Take some of mine but call around your military contacts. People who know how to get shit like this done clean and quick. If I can get a location, can you have a team ready?”
“I don’t know how long it will take me to get a team together, but I’ll move heaven and earth to try, Jacob. And if I can’t … I’ll fucking bring her home myself.” It’s time to man up. I failed Mickles and my team, but I won’t fail Nataliya.
“You can’t do this alone and guarantee her safety,” he says. “Get a team. I’ll call in favors too. Meet me at the club.”
I hang up and stare at my dashboard, thinking. It isn’t long before I’m placing a call.
“Well then, long time no speak.” The car is filled with a gravely British voice.
“Blade.” I say the name he goes by these days. His real name is Drew, but he got the name Blade because of how handy he is with a knife. He’s a Brit Special Forces operative who did some missions with us and has been living a civilian life for the past three years in California. He set up a security spy firm and installs spyware in rich people’s homes so they can spy on their employees, nannies, wives … whatever.
“I need a favor. If you’re free.”
“Always for your good self.”
“My stepsister has been taken. I need a team. My stepfather, he’s not entirely legit, so if you don’t want in on this, I understand. But there will be a decent paycheck. I could really do with someone who knows their shit when it comes to extractions.”
“Count me in. I’m in your neck of the woods fitting a nanny-cam in the bedroom of some asshole’s estranged wife in Carmel. I can be with you in two hours.”
“Do you have any men working for you whom you trust?”
“One. I’ll bring him. Duke. He’ll need to catch a flight, but between him flying and me driving, we can be with you soon.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
“See you in two. Where do you want me to meet you?”
“At the club my stepfather runs. It’s called Fitzroy’s and is on the edge of the financial district. I’ll drop you a pin.”
“Okay. Done. See you.”
He hangs up without further conversation.
I turn the car around and drive back to the financial district. The traffic in this part of town is light at this time of day. I hop out of my car outside the flashy club and hand my keys to the valet. There are already a few people waiting behind the rope to the right of the door. Eager.
The place is a mixture of a dance room, a restaurant, and a games room. It isn’t a casino, but Jacob needed the full gaming and entertainment license because of the games room. The premises are heavily monitored. It isn’t a front but a genuine business that is going from strength to strength. He’s already talked to me about opening another similar business but catering more to an alternative crowd in the Mission District. Anything to get him farther away from street level crime and into legitimate ways to make money. If he goes to prison, my mother will fall apart. This is the happiest she’s ever been.
I bypass the main rooms and duck through a side door by the cloakroom where I take the stairs two at a time to Jacob’s office.
When I walk in, he has Riley with him. Riley is part of the inner circle, even though he isn’t Russian or Ukrainian. He’s married to Jacob’s sister, Ionna, which makes him part of the family now, in every way. He’s also a tank. A huge mountain of a man with a jowly face and sparkling, blue eyes. His friendly eyes belie his steely nature.
He’s calm and an excellent shot. He’d be a good man to have with me on this. Him, Blade, Duke, and me. Would it be enough?
I’ll need to get eyes on where Nataliya’s being held to formulate a plan, but a small, well trained, and cohesive group is much better than a larger group. The more people you have on a situation like this, the more can go wrong.
Jacob is on the phone, and he hangs up and looks at me with a grim expression. “That was Ilya. A friend I have in Russia, he has his dark web guy on this, and I have our gal here looking into it.”
“Girl?” I ask automatically.
“Yes, Olivia. She’s a very talented hacker, and she also has her ear to the ground and the chatter going on. She works for many people, but the one person she has undying loyalty to is me.”
“How do you know she has undying loyalty? Maybe someone who can pay even more than us will come along,” I say.
He laughs. “Because I saved her life and the life of her son. Trust me. She puts this family’s needs first.”
His organization isn’t a family as such, but he always refers to it as one.
“What now?”
Jacob pinches the bridge of his nose. Dark circles under his eyes make it look like he hasn’t slept for a week, even though he only got the news today. “Now we wait.” He sighs.