Chapter Fifteen
Fifteen
Refreshments were already on the table. Sid sat across from Czar. The fact that he’d only brought two men with him—and Warren was his most trusted man—made Keys believe that whatever Sid had to say to Czar, he didn’t want anyone to know. And did that mean he had traitors in his club?
“Thanks for taking the meeting, Czar. As I told you, this has to be confidential, whether you feel you can help or not. I thought a lot about what you said and how you and your club handled things. I’ve paid attention to the rumors about your club, and lately, there’ve been quite a few.”
Czar shrugged. “Clubs gossip. Most of it is pure bullshit.”
“In this case, I hope the things said are true.”
Sid sighed and glanced at Knox and then Warren.
After looking at his own men, his gaze swept the room.
Absinthe, who sat beside Sid, Reaper, Savage, Czar and Keys, regarded him impassively.
Waiting. Keys had seen Czar use the silence tactic very successfully many times.
He simply sat quietly, his gaze fixed on the president’s face.
Sid swept a hand through his hair. “I wanted to keep our territory and the club small. We run guns and drugs, but we’re careful about who we work with.
The caves give us a tremendous number of places to stash product.
We try to keep a low profile and fly under the radar.
Some of the younger recruits start out thinking they can be tough and want to look badass.
We shut that down as fast as possible. We don’t want attention from other clubs or from the cops. ”
A couple of Headed for Hell club members had gone to the Torpedo Ink roadhouse when the band Crows Flying was playing and Seychelle was auditioning.
Savage had given them a single look, and they left.
On and off, a couple of the newer members had acted up, but since Sid had taken over the presidency, the club had done exactly what he told Czar he wanted—they’d stayed under the radar, fading into the background, staying to their territory and making a great deal of money.
Czar acknowledged that he was listening by inclining his head, but again, he remained silent.
Sid wasn’t giving them any information they didn’t already have.
There was nothing new and nothing that would raise an alarm.
And Sid was in full-blown panic mode. He was good at hiding it, but they were all adept at reading people.
“This can’t get out, Czar,” Sid reiterated. “I’m taking a real chance coming here, but after what happened with Keys and Lyric, and the way they’re using my caves, I need to find a way out.” Once again, Sid looked to his two trusted men, who both nodded at him encouragingly.
Czar’s eyes flicked briefly to Absinthe, and the man inclined his head slightly, indicating to all members of Torpedo Ink that, so far, Sid was telling the truth.
“A man calling himself the head of the militia, the ones who live above us, up in the mountains, came to me. I’ve known Sean Stark for several years.
He’s always run the community up there. Good man, but he was getting up there in age and it’s possible this new man, Milton Varga, took his place.
It was strange that I’d never encountered him before.
In any case, he had two men with him. Russians, like you.
They also brought bodies with them. One was a brother.
He’d been with me for years, and he’d suffered horribly before he died.
The other body was his daughter. She’d been tortured, cut into pieces.
They’d gang-raped her repeatedly. I know because they had video. ”
Warren shifted back in his chair, anger sliding over his face.
“They put the two of them in a coffin while they were still alive and took them up the mountain to one of the caves. I recognized the entrance. Just inside a few feet, it opens up to a large chamber. Behind the chamber are tunnels. The video shows they brought out eight women, all looking the worse for wear, to watch them rape and torture Joe and his daughter, Myra. The Russian bastards never changed expression when they were showing their work to us.”
Keys alerted, as did the other members of Torpedo Ink, when the Headed for Hell club members talked about the Russians with Varga.
That was all too familiar to them, especially when it came to kidnapping and torture.
And the coffin…He’d been in that coffin.
He didn’t remind Sid and Warren of that particular detail, but Czar did.
“We know about the coffin and videos of gang rape firsthand,” the president of Torpedo Ink said, no accusation in his voice, but Keys knew Sid felt it.
“How the hell did you manage to get out of that death trap?” Warren asked. “I studied the video they left us, and Joe and Myra didn’t have a chance. They were cuffed and they’d both been hit on the head.”
“Same MO,” Keys said. “Difference is, I’m good with locks.”
“Do you have a description of the Russians?” Czar asked. “This isn’t the first time we’ve run across them.”
“Better,” Knox said. “Screenshots of them off the security cameras.” He passed an envelope to Czar, who removed the series of black-and-white photographs. The pictures were grainy, but their features were still able to be seen.
The members of Torpedo Ink passed them around. The two Russians were wearing suits. Varga wore combat pants and a tight shirt. He appeared to be in his sixties. Maybe older. The two in suits were between their late twenties and early thirties.
“Did you happen to notice if they wore unusual cuff links?” Czar asked.
Sid frowned at him. “I think I was too busy watching the video of one of my brothers being tortured and murdered and his daughter being raped and then beat to death.”
“I noticed them,” Knox said. “When they first came to the clubhouse. The two Russians were wearing gold cuff links. When they came up the stairs, the sun hit them just right. Gold for sure, and the shape looked like a ghost. I thought they were cool, and I’ve never worn a cuff link in my life. How did you know?”
“There’s a group of men, very high rollers, who are targeting clubs, especially those who have routes that are beneficial to their trafficking ring.
They hire enforcers trained in Russia. Those men refer to themselves as Ghosts.
They have investments in high-end clubs.
Those clubs draw in extremely wealthy and bored clients who gamble in the underground casinos.
They run up debts. These people are very good at blackmail.
They prey on the weakest members of a club, usually getting them hooked on gambling, running up a debt, and then making their demands for inside information,” Czar explained.
“This happened to your club?”
“We don’t have anything they want so far,” he said, and gave his famous casual shrug.
“We assist other clubs. We don’t have routes for drugs or guns.
But we’ve been contacted by several other clubs because if these men don’t get their way, they kidnap a woman, usually the wife of the president, and send her back in pieces. ”
Sid held up his hands, spreading his fingers wide.
“I kicked my woman out and made it clear I didn’t have anyone I gave a damn about.
They threatened to send all our women back in bags.
After seeing the videos of Joe and his daughter, I gave them what they wanted: access to the caves and routes we used.
They wanted to know who we worked with and insisted on introductions to them.
I believe they’re pushing to expand their trafficking into those clubs. ”
“We know we have a traitor in the club, maybe more than one,” Warren added. “That was why we came here on our own to lay this out to you.”
“Was Joe particularly close to you?” Czar asked.
Sid nodded. “We grew up together. He was a little older than me. He got me into riding, and we joined Headed for Hell together. Known each other over forty years.”
“Someone in your club gave that information to the Ghosts so they could target the one person you would grieve over. They use shock tactics, and it works for them most of the time,” Czar explained.
Absinthe took over the explanation. “They found someone’s weakness in your club.
Women, drugs, gambling. Whatever. They took advantage and asked for information.
He provided it, and the result was Joe and his daughter were targeted.
Now this individual knows he’s responsible for those deaths and he’s well and truly caught.
There will be no forgiveness if it’s found out by his brothers that he signed that death warrant. ”
“Hell no,” Sid exploded. “Did you think because he feels guilty, we’d let him off?”
Czar’s eyes went the piercing silver that indicated to Keys that he was at his most lethal. “Not a chance, Sid. We run a very tight club. Betrayal carries a death sentence, and every single member of my club knows that. We don’t fuck around with traitors.”
There was no way to doubt Czar. He meant what he said, and everyone in the room knew it wasn’t a threat, it was their reality. The founding members of Torpedo Ink had lived under a death threat their entire lives. Only by sticking together and trusting one another had they managed to survive.
“I’ve got my brother Code working on your problem already,” Czar continued. “He’ll have the name, or names, of your traitor in a few minutes. If you need absolute confirmation, Absinthe can question them for you and determine whether they’re telling the truth.”
Absinthe gave them an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I have a gift for hearing lies.”
Sid and his two brothers exchanged a long look as if Absinthe had just confirmed something they had suspected.
“Can you help us with this problem?” Sid asked.
“Yes,” Czar confirmed. “But you have to be certain before we agree. Once the deal is made, there’s no going back.”
“Let’s get down to making a deal,” Sid said. “What do you need from us in return?”