Page 14 of The Mad Don
“So, you’re saying that he poses as an art collector?” Kirill asks me. I nod. We are in his study.
We got back from the warehouse in less than an hour, went to the basement, and cut the wires. I was hesitant; a man who could lie about who he was could lie about anything. Cutting all the wires seemed too easy. Kirill bit the bullet, he cut the wires, and the light died down. His men had taken the device to find out where it came from.
I told him everything, from what happened at Annika’s showcase to what happened at the dock.
He kicks the desk. The sound of it is satisfying in the way that breaking things sometimes is. He stands for a moment
“What a madman,” he curses quietly which is worse.
Then he turns and looks at me.
“You’re not going. He is way too dangerous,” he says. “I’ll find another way.”
“Pakhan, he has men inside this house. He is unpredictable, he is patient, and he does not do anything without a reason.” I pause. “If I go, I can watch him. And you can take the time to weed out his men. I’ll keep him distracted.”
“He’s a madman who has invited you voluntarily into his home,” Kirill says. “That means he has a plan for you. You understand that?”
“I understand that.”
“And you still want to go.”
I look at him for a moment, then I kneel.
“You found me,” I say. “Fifteen years old, running, alone. You could have done anything with that. You didn’t.” I keep my eyes on his. “You trained me. You gave me a purpose and a place, and you promised to help me find Christov.” I pause. “Everything I am, you built. Let me use it.”
“He wants you to be reactive.” I hold his gaze. “Don’t give him that.”
The room is quiet for a long time.
Kirill exhales. He goes around the desk to the cabinet on the far wall, opens it, and stands there for a moment with his back to me.
“Stand up,” he says.
I stand.
He takes out a file, holds it for a moment, looks at the cover, then turns and brings it to me.
“This was going to be a different kind of conversation,” he says. “My men in Bratislava have been running a database cross-reference for the past several weeks. They found a man whose physical profile matches what we have for Christov.” He watches my face. “We’re optimistic.”
My hands take the file before I’ve told them to.
I open it. It’s a photograph; the image quality is what field surveillance produces, which is to say imperfect and grainy at the edges. I cannot fully make out the face, but I can see something about the line of the jaw and the way the shoulders sit.
Christov.
I was twelve when we ran, and he was ten. I don’t know what ten looks like at twenty-seven.
“One month,” Kirill says. He’s watching me with the expression he reserves for things that cost him something. “You go, you watch, you learn what you can. One month, and I'll pull you out myself. That route wasn’t ours anyway.” He pauses. “Luca has contacts. We will go to Bratislava, and we will find your brother.”
I close the file, and I look up at him.
“Thank you,” I say, and the words come out smaller than I intend them to.
“You don’t have to do this,” he says. “I can handle him. He is new.”
The door opens.
Annika comes in, she stops, and she looks at my face and then at the file in my hands and then at Kirill, and her expression does several things in quick succession before settling into something clear and certain and immovable.
