Frank Zafiro - And Every Man Has to Die

Val shook his head. “The police officer he fought with suffered a broken ankle. They are charging him with assaulting her as well.”

“Her?”

“The police officer was a woman,” Val said with a shrug. “It is America.”

Sergey sighed, but nodded. “Of course. Who will take Ivan’s place?”

“Ivan is free,” Val reported. “Yuri bailed him out.”

Sergey frowned. “For twenty thousand? That is a steep price to pay for one man’s freedom, brother.”

“We used a bail bondsman. It only cost ten percent.” Val gave Sergey a cold smile. “As I said, this is America.”

Sergey gazed at him for another moment, then returned the smile, just as cold. “I see. Sometimes I forget how easy it is here.” He paused, then said, “Very well. Proceed as planned.”

“Yes, Sergey.”

“But after our second move, I will meet with the leaders of the gangs.”

Val’s desire to scowl grew. Not only was Sergey abandoning careful talk, he was now changing their previous plans. “I thought you decided that I would go to them.”

“I changed my mind,” Sergey said.

“Why?”

“Do I answer to you now?” Sergey snapped.

Val didn’t reply. He wrapped his fingers around the vodka glass and brought the drink to his lips. As he sipped and swallowed, his mind raced. Why the change of plans and attitude from Sergey?

“I asked you a question,” Sergey pressed. He tapped his thick fingers on the table to accent each word. “Do I answer to you now, or am I still the boss?”

Val set the glass on the table. “I didn’t answer the question because the answer is apparent. You are, and always will be, the boss. I answer to you completely.”

“So you say.”

Val gave Sergey a hard look. “You are my brother’s wife. You are my captain. Do you doubt my loyalty?”

Sergey didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I am wondering something, Valeriy Aleksandrovich. I am wondering why the men I talk to speak of their loyalty to you . I am wondering why they all speak so highly of you . I am wondering why they stand ready to do anything for you .”

“Their loyalty to me is based upon their loyalty to you,” Val answered evenly. “They know my loyalty to you is absolute.”

“Is it?”

Val clenched his jaw. His eyes narrowed. “Sergey, I will do anything you ask. But you break my heart when you question my faithfulness.”

“I wonder, sometimes, if you even have a heart to break, Valeriy.”

Val didn’t answer. He wasn’t about to show Sergey, or anyone, his secret heart. Instead he pushed back slightly from the table, reached into his pocket, and removed a heavy-bladed folding knife. With a flick of his thumb he snapped the blade open into a locked position.

Sergey watched.

Val placed his left hand on the table. He left his small finger extended and curled the others into a fist. He looked directly into Sergey’s eyes before lowering the tip of the knife onto the table next to the first knuckle of his extended finger. The razor-sharp point dug into the wooden tabletop. “How many knuckles do you want?” he asked, his voice flat.

Sergey seemed to appraise him. Then he asked, “How many will you give me?”

“All that you ask for,” Val answered without pause.

The tension between the two men hung in the air like an invisible fog. Val sat easily, his knife poised above his small finger, his eyes boring into Sergey. Sergey stared back, his expression contemplative. He lifted the glass to his mouth and drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I want the whole finger,” Sergey said softly.

Val shifted the knife so that it rested near the base of his finger. He gave Sergey a meaningful look and pressed downward.

Sergey’s hand shot out and caught Val’s at the wrist. His grip was surprisingly strong. With a hard pull, he moved Val’s hand away. Blood coursed from the deep cut on Val’s small finger and he could see the white of the bone at the bottom. But his finger was still whole.

“Put your knife away,” Sergey instructed. He rose from his seat and wet one of Marina’s kitchen towels in the sink.

Val snapped the blade shut and slid it into his pocket. Sergey thrust the damp cloth toward him, and he pressed it against the cut on his finger.

Sergey sat down. “I’m sorry I doubted you, brother,” he said. “But this is a dirty business we are in. Loyalty is a rare commodity.”

Val lifted the dishtowel and inspected his cut. He was going to need some stitches.

“There is a saying in our country,” Sergey continued. “Maybe you know it. ‘An enemy will agree, but a friend will argue.’ Do you know this saying, Valeriy?”

Val nodded. He dribbled some vodka onto his wound. It stung, but he resisted wincing. “I know this saying,” he said. “I live it.”

“I can see that,” Sergey said. “Now, tell me why you came here tonight.”

Val pressed the towel back against the injury, then looked up at Sergey. “You need to stay home tonight,” he said, “so that you will not be connected to anything that happens.”

“Very well. I had certain plans, but…” He shrugged.

Val ignored the obvious reference to Sergey’s mistress and went on. “After our business tonight, I planned to sit down with certain people to discuss the future operations here in River City. If you want to be the one to do that, I will step aside.”

“What do you recommend?” Sergey asked.

“I recommend you stay as insulated as possible,” Val said. “Let me be your voice for now. Everyone who knows anything knows that I speak on your behalf, but no one who wants to prove that will be able to.”

“You mean the police?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think they are a realistic threat,” Sergey said.

Not now , Val thought. But when we expand, they will be our greatest threat.

Sergey took another sip from his vodka glass. “I think that in matters such as this, people need to see that I am the one in charge. Their people, and ours, too.”

“I am certain you are correct,” Val said. Perhaps it would work better for him, too.

Sergey nodded. “I am.” He reached out and patted Val on the forearm. “You are a good lieutenant, Valeriy, but I am a better general. You must trust my vision.”

“I am yours,” Val said.

Sergey laughed, a short barking sound that filled the small kitchen. “We saw that tonight already, didn’t we?” He reached for his glass and drained it. Then he stared down into the empty bottom. “What about the bookkeeper?” he asked.

Val shifted and turned his left hand over, pressing it down to the tabletop to maintain pressure on the cut. With his free hand he picked up his glass and raised it to Sergey in a silent toast and swallowed its contents. Then he held it out toward Sergey.

After a moment the older man smiled and poured them both another. Val turned his glass in his fingers. “They also say in our homeland that the tongue always returns to the sore tooth,” he mused.

“This particular tooth is rotting,” Sergey replied. “And the dentist failed to pull it.”

Val felt the warmth from the vodka brewing in his stomach. He raised the glass and sipped. This felt like old times to him. They could have been sitting in a Kiev flat, huddled against the cold and sipping vodka. Those times were simpler, back when his ambition was simply to become Sergey’s right hand.

He pushed away the sentimentality. “Our man did his job. He is not to blame that the target was not present.”

“But where is the target?”

“I don’t know. But I will find out.”

Sergey stared down into his vodka with a concerned expression. “What do you think, Valera? Is he on the run? Or did he go to the enemy?”