15. Run Away to Rotterdam
RUN AWAY TO ROTTERDAM
Crisp air saws in and out of my lungs as I race along the packed dirt. Two of the three hounds accompanying me run ahead, barking at a bird. They both halt in surprise when it takes flight rather than lying limp, like the dead ones they’re trained to retrieve.
Igor occasionally hosts hunting parties on the couple hundred hectares that make up the Serebryanovo estate, but he’s been too preoccupied with his latest mistress to do much of that lately. The dogs are nearly as restless as I am.
I’ve been back in Russia for less than a month, but it feels like an eternity since I left Chicago.
I want a distraction, yet nothing has been able to hold my attention.
My mother wasn’t lying about firing Anna.
I could visit Aleksandr’s favorite club, but there’s something unappealing about imitating my brother’s behaviors.
Something unappealing about fucking a random woman too.
That’s left exercise and work as my only outlets.
I haven’t wanted company, so I’ve avoided the gym.
And things have been quiet since Koslov and Galkin delivered the body of the man waiting outside Aleksandr’s favorite club.
It’s uncommon anyone local is bold enough to challenge us, so that should be the end of it.
I pick up my pace, recognizing the silver birch ahead.
One of the property’s namesakes. The woods are noticeably thinning around me.
A large perimeter of cleared land surrounds the manor and smaller outbuildings—the garage, kennel, and gym—a deliberate lack of cover to prevent anyone from making a stealthy approach.
I whistle. Polkan races into view, joining the other two hounds up ahead. They know the route back as well as I do, racing ahead toward their kennel and waiting breakfast eagerly.
Sweat pours off of me as I follow, pushing my endurance. The combination of fresh air and exercise clears my head—at least temporarily.
A lone figure is leaning against the side of the kennel when I reach them, a lit cigarette dangling between two fingers.
I shoo the dogs inside, not missing that Burya and Ural sniff at Maksim.
He used to beg our father for a canine companion when he was younger.
He wanted a pet and hadn’t yet learned the lesson that Igor required everything to serve a purpose.
These hounds work when and how it pleases him, same as the rest of us.
My brother watches me lock the kennel’s chain-link door. He appears tired and is likely hungover, but pointing that out will only result in an unpleasant conversation. It’s common for Maksim to disappear for several days to do fuck knows what. A habit he learned from Elena perhaps.
“You smell,” I state.
He swipes some shaggy strands out of his eyes before replying, “So do you.”
I refrain from suggesting he get a haircut. “Like sweat. Not like a bar.”
Maksim grins, dropping the cigarette and stamping on the glowing end. “I lost track of time.”
I scoff, pointing at the litter he left on the ground. “Pick that up, or one of the dogs might eat it.”
He sighs but listens, then slouches again. When he bothers to stand straight, my younger brother has a couple of inches on me. Yet he lacks the muscle I do, thanks to his infrequent trips to the gym and unhealthy diet of mostly booze. “Do you know what this is about?”
“No.” I watch more closely as Maksim flips his hair back again, his movements loose and languid. “You’re drunk.”
He gives me a lopsided smile. “A little.”
I shake my head, then stride toward the house.
“Loosen up, Lev!” Maksim calls after me.
Inside, I hustle up to my room to shower and change. I don’t know why Igor called a meeting, but if he included Maksim, it’s likely something serious.
I’m first to arrive in my father’s office. The fire is crackling even though we’re inching closer to summer. It usually burns year-round.
Igor appears pleased to see me, so nothing too catastrophic could have occurred.
“I saw you running.” My father nods out the windows behind his desk as I lean against one of the bookcases that cover the walls.
Most of the books haven’t been moved since my grandfather occupied this office. I run a finger down the spine of a Dostoevsky novel. When I inspect my skin, there’s a fine coating of dust.
“The dogs need more exercise.”
“They are lucky to live here.”
“Maksim agrees.”
Igor’s eyes narrow.
For many years, I protected my younger brother in any way I could.
I stepped up so he didn’t have to, until that became the default.
I was trying to give Maksim a chance at a more normal childhood, and instead, I’m worried I’m at fault for his lazy demeanor as an adult.
My initiative is part of why I’m my father’s favorite and one of the reasons Aleksandr resents me.
The office door opens. Aleksandr strides inside. He greets Igor and ignores me, taking a seat in the armchair.
“How is Ilya?” I ask.
“He is fine.”
I know better than to ask about Victoria.
Allowing tensions to fester might be a questionable choice under most circumstances, but it’s the only strategy that works well with Aleksandr. Nothing I say will make his wife requesting me sting less.
I simply have to wait until my brother recalls we are, in fact, blood.
Or until he needs a favor. My guess is, the latter will happen first.
Maksim slinks inside last, the cloying scents of smoke and liquor following like a cheap cologne.
“There was an incident in Rotterdam,” Igor states. “A shipment was stolen.”
Maksim sighs like this is a waste of his precious time.
I wait for Igor to chastise him. He doesn’t. He’s silent, staring at me. Waiting for my response.
Unbidden, my mother’s words echo in my head. “Igor listens to you.”
I resent my brothers’ obvious vices for repeatedly positioning me as the voice of reason. Ironically, I think they resent me for the same reason. I say nothing, wishing I’d run a few more miles. Restlessness is already sneaking back in; I have to battle the urge to tap my fingers on the shelves.
“How much?” is Aleksandr’s first question. Predictably concerned with the bottom line and how much might be missing from his pocket.
Igor waves his cigar dismissively. “A few million.”
“Do we have names?”
“Not yet. But they didn’t bother wearing masks, so it won’t be difficult. Misha is working on it.”
“Do the names really matter?” Maksim drawls.
Igor stares at Maksim for a few seconds, as though he is weighing a reply.
Aleksandr speaks first. “We should send a few men to investigate. In case they—”
“I’ll go with a team.”
Three sets of surprised eyes land on me.
“We should contact Andrea,” I add. “Find out what he knows.”
The Italians are most likely involved in some way. There aren’t many families with the access or resources to impact our shipments.
Aleksandr frowns. “That could compromise him. It took a year to—”
“I know how long it took to integrate him. I was the one who oversaw everything while half of Russia was sucking your cock.”
My brother vaults upright, scowling. “You—”
“Sit, Aleksandr,” Igor snaps.
He’s smiling, which makes the command more menacing. He enjoys when Aleksandr and I clash; he has some perverted pride in seeing us fight. I’m never the instigator, so he’s likely appreciating this even more.
“They could discover Andrea any day,” I state. “At least we’ll get useful information out of him first.”
Aleksandr sneers, “Useful information about a small shipment? At least get him killed for more money.”
“It was a test,” I state. “The next one will cost a lot more.”
“Only if the Italians want a war with us, which would be idiotic.”
“No one steals from friends. They need to be reminded how we treat thieves.”
Aleksandr glares, his jaw ticcing with residual annoyance and fresh irritation.
I didn’t walk in here, planning to challenge him. Normally, I’d support a less aggressive response. One shipment of stolen goods isn’t worth losing men or our advantage against Cosa Nostra. It’s bad timing—for them—that I feel like setting an example of why we’re a terrible enemy to have.
Igor nods his agreement. “Take care of it.”
Aleksandr turns his head, hiding his expression. I can feel his fury like a fifth presence in the room. One day, he won’t be able to tame it.
I have no idea what I’ll do when that happens.