James Baldwin - Blood Hound

She pressed a finger to my lips, looking back at the edge of the curtains. “All right, Alexi. I believe you. You’re right. Maybe about tonight, maybe not… but I can tell you that I lost three clients this week. Gunned down, shot, strangled. And I nearly lost you.”

I sighed. “I don’t want you involved in any of this.”

“I chose to be here.” Her eyes were hard and fierce in the dim light, gleaming like jet. “But I always have an exit plan. Don’t worry, okay? If you say things are going down, I believe you.”

Relief swept through my chest. “Thank you.”

“I’m a survivor,” she whispered. Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “And so are you. So you make sure to take your own advice. You cut town, tonight. You’re too good for these guys, Alexi. Don’t let their world kill you.”

Again. A wash of déjà vu passed over me, and for a moment, I remembered the flash of white hair, the smell of putrefaction and burning wax, the intense cold. My chest hurt with the remembered knowledge of everything dying, that I was dying, and that our only hope was to run for the sea and—

Crina must have felt my tension loosen because she leaned in closer, breaking off the ploy of lap dancing to hug me awkwardly, urgently, the same kind of one-armed hug I gave Vassily just before he went in to be sentenced for his bloodless crimes.

“I will. Thank you.” It was all I could say.

When we emerged, there was a new bottle of vodka and the obligation to have another glass. I threw back my water and let them pour, nursing the new drink while conversation wound down, laughter became less frequent, and Sergei more contemplative and intense. When a natural silence fell, he nodded to Lev, who wrapped up with a quiet word. We waited until Nicolai and his escort came out of the bathroom, and then she left with the other women, Crina included. She didn’t look back, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I did love her, just a little bit. She would survive, no matter what.

Nicolai locked the door behind them as we settled back down expectantly. They were drunk, beaten off, relaxed. I was sober and not looking forward to whatever was about to be discussed.

“Well, gentlemen. I will get straight to the point.” Sergei said, looking out over the rest of the table. “The USSR is dead. Now, we have to think about where this organization will be going in the future. How we will grow.”

How could it grow? I thought of Rodion, the photo the press had gotten of his red-sprayed car window and slumped head. Semyon, cringing beside his bed, his cases full of dirty money. No growth was possible. Lev and Nic and Vanya looked to Sergei, rapt and attentive without any obvious sense of irony.

“It is time for a reorganization,” Sergei said heavily, hand thudding on the tabletop in emphasis. “Because I know for a fact that everything is going to collapse. The announcement of the dissolution will be out any month now. It is said and done. This is the result of perestroika , which is—and I tell you now—brought about by the West in support of a union in Europe. America and Germany want this union, and they will do everything for it. They forgot what history has taught Russia about giving power to the West, and I tell you now… if the Slavic countries do not pull together in the decades to come, there will be a new kind of fascism in Europe. It will one day make Germany look like a play-date.”

That did stun the room into silence, even me.

“Now. In the short term, chaos is good for us.” Sergei’s eyes glinted with anticipatory pleasure. “Very good. Business thrives on uncertainty, debt, speculation, risk. My friends are already looking at their pick for presidents in Ukraine, Russia, and Georgia. KGB men, the lot of them. But if we don’t have a hand in this, we will miss out on a huge opportunity. So, I have decided that we will diversify. We are going to Ukraine to build a hub of trade that will link New York directly to Europe and Asia, my friends. Fuck South America. Goods will travel through the Middle East and up through Russia, then out to anywhere we want. The future is in China and Afghanistan, not Colombia.”

Sergei’s head swiveled towards Lev. “Lev, you are once again going to be my Advocate. I need you by my side. It falls to you to decide who will lead this community in your stead. My top choice has always been Vassily, who has grown up here and knows the U.S. better than anyone. But you, Nicolai, you always loved America. What do you have to say?”

All eyes turned to Nic. His mouth flickered in an approximation of a smile.

“Well. I’d say Vassily ain’t fit to lead his head out of his own ass. He got hooked on product while he was in prison.” While everyone else hung on his words, he looked me dead in the eye as icy, hard certainty settled in my chest. “And Alexi here… well, Pakhun. I told you about Grisha. And since then, it’s just been one fuckup after another.”

Lev glanced at me knowingly. He’d tried to warn me. But Nic? The man who had patiently mentored Vassily and me when we were green? He’d trained us to take these positions, to succeed him… and apparently, he’d decided that he didn’t want to let go.

“I throw in behind Nicolai,” Vanya added, a little too quickly. Politics had never really been his strong point, but he was apparently still better at pre-arrangement than I was.

Nic’s eyes gleamed hungrily, victoriously. Damn his skinny, traitorous, ambitious ass.

“I see,” Sergei said. He looked to me. “And you, Alexi?”

“What, exactly, did I do?” My voice was quiet, but for the moment, it carried. “What, exactly, did I fuck up?”

Nic shrugged. “How many times have I had to pull your ass out of the fire now? Three? First Semyon—”

“That went off without a hitch,” I said. I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.

“Then this Manelli spook, who wiped the floor with your ass, turns up and tries to hit us at the casino—”

I banged my hand on the table with enough force that he shut up. “I know exactly what you’re driving at. He got nothing out of me. Not a single damn thing!”

Nic scoffed. He flicked a hand. “Then how’d they find out?”

“Jana Volotsya.” Rage wound my voice tight, hard, and flat. Lev tensed.

“Who what now?” Vanya looked to me.

“Well… I can confirm that Jana was certainly involved in abducting Vincent,” Lev said carefully. “We’ve started the cleanup at her house, but I’m still sorting through all her paperwork. Did you hear anything about what she was involved in?”

I wanted to say it. I wanted to tell them about the Fruit, to lay it out like a grand prize I’d been holding back so I could spit it in Nic’s face. But I knew, even as I weighed up my answer, that none of these men would understand the Fruit’s significance anyway. They’d laugh, at best, because what could it do for them? Would it make money? Add to the business? My dreams and visions, the struggles behind the scenes of the murders, the discovery of a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge meant nothing to them.

I’d never sought power in the Organizatsiya before, but I wanted it now. This was culmination of a long game played out with my life and the lives of people I cared about. Nic had spent years on this. He had us all lined up.

“She was working with the Manelli spook and Semyon.” I grated the half-truth out flatly. “Working behind Lev’s back. She organized Semyon’s magical protection, maybe even facilitated him turning to the Feds. She played us off one another. And now, she’s dead because of me. Vincent is safe, and the trade link with him. And you want to talk about my failures, Nicolai? What about your failure as lead enforcer to find the rats in our rank? You didn’t know Jana was a threat.”