Frank Zafiro - And Every Man Has to Die

Her breasts flattened against his chest and then he was inside her. She let out a long, guttural moan and heard him do the same. They coupled as frantically as they’d kissed in her living room, and Carson felt the beginnings of an orgasm rising up within her, slowly climbing toward that blissful summit. She dug her fingers into Battaglia’s muscular back to pull him closer. She felt him stiffen, and he let out a guttural cry as he came. When he finished, she wrapped his legs around his and pulled him as deep within her as possible. They lay there clutching at each other, and in that moment Carson knew that she was alive.

Everything else might be wrong, but she was still alive.

1104 hours

Day Shift

Valeriy Romanov pulled into the Russian bakery lot. He killed the engine and set the parking brake. Several stalls over, he recognized Sergey’s car. He wondered briefly if Pavel had driven his father this morning. Had he started reading the book Val gave him? The boy needed to buckle down and learn a little bit more about the business if he was going to be part of it. Of course, the boy’s role was ultimately going to be different than Sergey had planned, but Val believed he would still be useful after his father was gone. If nothing else, his presence would give Marina a place to hide from her grief.

Val exited his car and walked into the bakery. The middle-aged wife of the proprietor looked up from the bread she was kneading, a sincere smile on her face. When she saw Val the smile faltered, but she recovered quickly and nodded to him.

Val returned her nod and made his way to Sergey’s table. No Pavel, but as usual, Sergey sat reading the River City Herald . The task took him a great deal of time every morning, as his English was still far from fluent. Val had heard that American journalism strove to write at the eighth-grade education level. Anything more difficult and Sergey would have to spend the entire day with the newspaper.

Val sat down without waiting for permission. He knew that irked Sergey, but the older man simply made him wait a while as penance. Val didn’t mind. He skimmed the front page while Sergey held the paper in front of him. His own English was not the best, but he read better than he spoke. A story about the “gangland slayings” was full of speculation, but no real information. Nothing in the article referenced Sergey or himself. In fact, there was nothing in the article at all about Russians, Ukrainians, or the politically correct term, Eastern Europeans.

Val was only mildly encouraged. He knew that the police were likely to be stingy with any information, especially with a newspaper that seemed to delight in hammering the cops at every opportunity. Val didn’t mind seeing them take a drubbing, but he kept that bias in mind when reading the paper.

Eventually Sergey rattled the paper, folded it, and set it in front of him. “Much to do in today’s news,” Sergey said.

Val shrugged. “Speculation and nonsense,” he replied.

Sergey nodded. “Probably. There is no mention of us at all.”

“And that’s good,” Val said. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

Sergey stroked his freshly shaved cheek. “I want to discuss two things. First, our new allies. Do you think each of them will comply with our demands? Or do you believe that we may have to put down a small rebellion before our conquest is complete?”

Val considered. “If I approach your question logically, then my answer is this. DeShawn Brown was the strongest of the group, which is why we struck at him. He is a businessman. He will comply. The other blacks will follow suit. The white believes we are partners, so he will pay.”

“And the Mexican?”

“He is young and it was his brother we eliminated.” Val shrugged. “It is possible he may retaliate.”

“We are in a position to deal with this should it arise, no?”

“We are,” Val said. “But the less we flex our muscle, the less police have reason to look at us.”

“Ah,” Sergey said. “The police. That was the other item I wished to discuss with you.”

Val waited, saying nothing. Sergey’s contempt for American police was on par with that for the Kiev police. Val disagreed with his assessment. The tactics of the Kiev police were certainly more brutal than their American counterparts, but the Americans tended to be largely incorruptible and more idealistic. Any moves they made had to be considered with this in mind.

“I believe,” Sergey said, “now that we have consolidated our position within our own world, we should put police on notice that we are hands off.”

Val believed the best way to be strong was to remain invisible to the police, but he knew Sergey wouldn’t listen. And most of Sergey’s plan so far had matched his own, so Val played along. “How do you intend to put them on notice?” he asked.

“A while ago, some of our people were stopped by a police officer. A woman, yes?”

“That’s right,” Val said.

“And they walked away with not so much as a traffic ticket.”

“That’s true.”

“Because they threatened force.”

“Yes,” Val said. He had chastised them for it, angry that they would risk a confrontation with the police over something so meaningless. Better to have simply taken the ticket and paid it.

“I think,” Sergey said, “that the next time such a situation occurs that the police officers should not walk away unscathed.”

“You want our soldiers to kill a police officer?” Val asked, surprised.

“No, no, no,” Sergey said. “That won’t be necessary. But I think a sound beating will be just the message we are looking to send.”

In Kiev, the message would work. Here, Val believed it would have the opposite effect. Instead of making them untouchable, it would cause the police to turn even more attention toward their operation. This was a bad move, but Sergey would not see it that way. Instead of raising objections, Val remained silent. How might this action fit into his own plans? He couldn’t see an angle. There was no profit in this direction.

Sergey watched him as he ruminated. Eventually, Val said, “I’m not sure if I see the necessity, but you are the greater strategist.”

Sergey smiled at Val’s flattery. “What you don’t see, Valeriy, is that once the police fear us, our enterprise will be allowed to operate unfettered. We will become rich and powerful. Who knows?” he said. “Perhaps we could reach other cities. Portland. Seattle. Boise. Many of these places are largely untapped resources.”

Val smiled coldly. Sergey’s reach would always exceed his grasp, but in the short term that was exactly what he was counting on.

“Let me consider the best way to implement your strategy,” Val said. “I’ll bring you a plan in a few days.”

Sergey nodded. “Very well.”

Val nodded back. This gave him a few days reprieve. He wasn’t sure if that would be enough, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

“Where is Pavel?” he asked.

Sergey waved his question away in frustration. “Bah! The boy spends too much time with his friends. Always driving his car up and down Riverside Avenue. Always chasing the girls.”

“He is young,” Val said.

“He’s a foolish pup,” Sergey snapped. “He has much to learn if he is going to follow in my footsteps.”

“He will learn,” Val said. “I gave him a book to read.”

“I know,” Sergey said. “And it sits unopened on the coffee table in our living room.” Then he shrugged. “It is just as well. He doesn’t need to read some book. He needs to do.”

“And he will,” Val said. He felt a small stab of disappointment that Pavel had ignored Dune , but that was the boy’s own choice. “He will grow into his role over time.”