Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Gennadiy grabbed my hands, his voice like iron. “He’s not having you.”
Sick fear was rising in my chest. I’d come to him for help; I thought we could be allies. I never wanted this! “He’s going to destroy everything because of me!”
Gennadiy pulled my hands together and closed his bigger hands around them. “No, he’s not. Because we’re going to stop him. Together.”
He gathered the rest of his family and brought them up to speed. “We have to figure out what he’s doing,” Gennadiy told them. “Grushin made it clear we’re all targets, now. You should all come and stay here, in the mansion, until this is over.” Radimir nodded and squeezed Bronwyn’s hand.
“I checked out Grushin’s clinic,” said Valentin. “Pretty fancy place: has a whole spa where you can get pampered while you recover from your nose job. Looks like a legit business. I climbed the fence and went dumpster diving, but all I could find was normal medical waste. Then I thought maybe it was some sort of pill mill and they were selling prescription meds, so I photographed all the packaging, but it was just anaesthetics, antibiotics…the only one I hadn’t heard of was something called tacrolimus.”
“That’s not something you could sell on the street either,” said Bronwyn. “I’m prescribed it for my arthritis; it’s just an immunosuppressant.”
Gennadiy clapped Valentin on the shoulder and nodded his thanks to Bronwyn. “So the clinic is like the casino: a legit front Grushin uses to launder money.”
I turned it over in my head. “It’s a pretty good way to hide big transactions. People pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for medical treatment. What if…Grushin’s selling something, something really valuable? His customers pay through the clinic, it gets recorded as liposuction or a facelift, and no one’s any the wiser.”
“So what’s he selling that’s so valuable?” asked Radimir. “Technology? Information?”
We were all working together, bouncing ideas off each other, and, for a moment, it was almost like being back in the FBI. I felt a whisper of something, but I couldn’t put a name to it.
“Some of the clients are probably real patients,” said Bronwyn thoughtfully. “But some will be his customers. Could we get hold of a patient list?”
I shook my head. “Patient records are confidential. Even if I was back at the FBI, it’d be tricky to get that kind of information.” I sighed. “Grushin’s smart, I’ll give him that.”
“What about the numbers from Grushin’s phone?” asked Gennadiy.
I showed him the list of numbers Yolanda had given me, the printout now a rainbow of highlighter ink. “These are all numbers in Moscow; probably contacts he made while he was working there. So, whatever he’s selling, I’m guessing he’s getting it from Russia.” I pointed to the next few rows. “These are numbers here in Chicago. This is a company that does welding. I have no clue what that means. And this one is a small local transport company…I thought maybe distribution? But that makes no sense if his clients pick up their stuff from the clinic.”
Gennadiy nodded. “Good work.” A glow of pride spread through me. Even Radimir looked grudgingly impressed.
“What are the other numbers?” asked Valentin, pointing to the last few rows.
I sighed. “Those are numbers with no registered name or address. Burner phones, probably local criminals. I highlighted the ones Grushin calls a lot.”
Gennadiy nodded thoughtfully. Then his finger stabbed at one of the highlighted numbers, and he went pale. “That’s…” He trailed off, pulled out his phone, checked a number, and then double-checked it.
“What?” I asked, worried. “What is it?”
His voice was strangled. “One of the numbers is Yakov Beletski’s.”
47
GENNADIY
I sagged forward, and my palms thumped the smooth wood of the dining table. I could barely breathe. Yakov! My best friend.
“Could I have the room, please?” I grated. Everyone nodded and made themselves scarce until only Alison was left. She put her hands on mine and looked up at me with big, apologetic eyes.
I shook my head. “I needed to know,” I told her.
She nodded sadly and started to leave, but I grabbed her wrist. “No,” I said tightly. “Stay.” She nodded and squeezed my hand, and I squeezed it back… Blyat’, I used to spend every day planning how to slip away from her. Now, I couldn’t stand being separated from her. And she was becoming essential to the Aristov family, too. I could feel her being drawn into our world, getting used to breaking the law, just as I’d worried she would. But the truth was, we needed her. We didn’t stand a chance against Grushin without her.
“What are you going to do?” she asked gently.
I shook my head. “I have no idea.” Yakov had always been my rock. He was exactly the person I’d go to for advice in a situation like this. I took a deep breath...and felt the cold metal of my gun press against my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut. Traitors in the Bratva always met the same fate, but...I can’t. Not Yakov.