Dennis Lehane: Moonlight Mile

I stayed where I was.

“What’s going on?” Helene said again, but no one listened to her.

Violeta kissed Amanda’s cheek and ran her hand over Claire’s head.

“Mrs. Borzakov?” Yefim said. “You ever fire this gun before?”

She went over to Yefim. “What gun?”

“This one,” he said. “It’s a forty-caliber automatic.”

“I like revolvers.”

“I don’t have a revolver right now.”

“Okay.” She sighed and brushed her hair back off her shoulders. “Show me this gun.”

Yefim put the gun in Violeta’s hands and showed her where the safety was. “It pulls a bit to the left,” he said. “In this space? It will be loud.”

Helene said to Kenny, “You promised no one would get hurt.”

Kenny said to Kirill, “Yeah, Mr. Borzakov. We had, like, a deal.”

“No deal with you.” Kirill waved his hand. “Pavel.”

Pavel pointed a Makarov pistol at Helene and Kenny. “Take them in back, too, Kirill?”

“Yes,” Kirill said. “What did you do with the other girl?”

Pavel gestured at the baby. “Baby’s mother?”

“Yeah.”

“She no bother, boss. She’s in the living room. Spartak take care of her, soon as I tell him.”

“Good, good.”

Yefim finished showing Violeta how to use the gun. “You got it now?”

“I got it.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Borzakov?”

She let go of the gun. “I’m sure, I’m sure. You think I’m stupid, Yefim?”

“Tiny bit, yes.” Yefim tilted the muzzle up and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered Violeta’s head in the soft skin under the palate. It exited the top of her head and followed a starburst of blood and bone into the ceiling. Her newsboy hat disappeared behind the couch. Her knees buckled left, then right, and she fell on the sectional and slid from there to the floor.

Kirill started to get off the couch, but Yefim shot him in the stomach. Kirill let loose a sound I’d once heard a dog make when it was hit by a car.

Spartak came through the curtain with a revolver extended and Pavel shot him in the temple as Spartak was in mid-stride. Spartak took a half-step with his brains dripping pink and red down the mirrored wall, and then he fell face-forward on the floor by my foot, his mouth open and huffing.

After a few seconds, no more huffing.

Pavel swung his arm and pointed at Kenny’s chest.

“Wait,” Kenny said to Pavel. “Hold on.”

Pavel looked over at Yefim. Yefim flicked his eyes to Amanda. After a second or two, he looked back at Pavel and blinked once.

Pavel fired a round into Kenny’s chest and Kenny jerked in place like he’d been hit with a cattle prod.

Helene screamed.

Tadeo said, “No, no, no, no, no,” his eyes clenched.

Kenny raised an arm and looked around, his eyes wild and so terribly afraid. Pavel took one step forward and fired another round into Kenny’s forehead and Kenny stopped moving.

Helene curled into a fetal position on the sectional and screamed herself into silence, her mouth open and soaking wet, the spittle dripping off her chin, but no sound coming out as she looked at Kenny lying dead as dead got on the carpet beside Spartak. Pavel trained his gun on her but didn’t pull the trigger. Tadeo dropped off the couch and landed on his knees and started praying.

Kirill pawed the couch like he was trying to find the remote in the dark. He grunted, over and over, the blood slopping all over his white sweater and tan pants. He opened his mouth and gulped at the air, his eyes on the ceiling as Yefim put one knee on the couch beside him and pressed the muzzle of his Springfield XD against Kirill’s heart.

“I loved you like a father, but you go become a fucking embarrassment, man. Too much shit up your nose, I think. Too much vodka, eh?”

Kirill said, “Who will work with you if you kill your own boss? Who will trust you?”

Yefim smiled. “I got approval from everyone on this-the Chechens, the Georgians, even that crazy Muscovite there in Brighton Beach? One you said could never run the show? He runs the show, Kirill. And he agree-you got to go.”

Kirill held both hands over the hole in his abdomen and arched his back from the pain.

Yefim gritted his teeth and then sucked his lips in against them.

“Let me tell you, Yefim. I-”

Yefim pulled the trigger twice. Kirill’s eyes snapped back into his head. He exhaled, the sound impossibly high-pitched. His eyes remained back in his head, only the whites showing. When Yefim came off the couch, the smoke exited Kirill’s mouth and the hole in his chest at the same time.

Yefim walked over to Amanda. “We let your mother live?”

“Oh, God,” Helene shrieked from her fetal position on the couch.

Amanda looked at Helene for a long time.

“I guess. Don’t call her my mother, though.”

“What about little Spanish guy?”

“He probably needs a job.”

“Hey, little fellah,” Yefim said. “You want a job?”

“Nah, man,” Tadeo said. “I’m so fucking done with this shit. I just want to go work with my uncle.”

“What’s he do?”

Tadeo’s accent suddenly disappeared. “He sells, like, insurance?”

Yefim smiled. “That’s worse than what we do. Hey, Pavel?”

Pavel laughed. It was surprisingly high-pitched, a giggle.

“Ho-kay, little man. When you leave here, you go sell insurance. I think we done killing for the day, then. Pavel?”

Pavel nodded. “My fucking ears hurt, man.”

Yefim looked up at the ceiling. “Shit-ass construction, these things. Too much tin. Boom boom . Now that I’m king, Pavel? No more trailers for us.”

Pavel said, “George Clooney no king.”

Yefim clapped his hands together. “Ha! You right there. Fuck George Clooney, eh? Maybe someday he get to play a king, but he’ll never be a king like Yefim.”

“You know that is sure, boss.”

Yefim reached into his jacket pocket and came out with a small black key. He stepped up to Amanda and said, “Hold out your wrists.”

Amanda did.

Yefim unlocked Amanda’s right handcuff and then the baby’s. “Man, look at her. She’s sleeping.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind loud noises,” Amanda said. “This kid, I swear, every day’s a surprise.”

“You telling me.” Yefim unlocked the left cuffs. “You got her?”

“I got her.”

“Hold her tight.”

“I’m holding her. She’s in a Björn, Yefim.”

“Of course. I forget.” Yefim pinched the handcuffs at their centers and pulled them away from Amanda and the baby.

Amanda rubbed her wrists and looked around at the carnage. “Well…”

Yefim held out his hand. “Pleasure, Miss Amanda.”

“You’re no slouch yourself, Yefim.” She shook his hand. “Oh, the cross is in Helene’s purse.”

Yefim snapped his fingers. Pavel threw him the purse. Yefim pulled out the cross and smiled. “My family, before we end up in Mordovia two hundred years ago? We live in Kiev.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “True. My father, he tells me we’re descended from Prince Yaroslav himself. This is a family heirloom, man.”

“From a prince to a king,” Pavel said.

“Oh, you too kind, man.” He rummaged in the bag and then looked at me. “Whose gun?”

“That’s mine.”

“It was in the bag the whole time? Pavel!”

Pavel held up his hands. “Spartak supposed to check woman.”

They both looked down at Spartak as his blood ran under the sectional. After a few seconds they looked at each other and shrugged.

Yefim handed me my gun like he was handing me a can of soda, and I put it in the holster behind my back. Four people had just been killed in front of me, and I felt nothing. Zip. That’s what twenty years of swimming in shit had cost me.