“We know her sacrifice, Lastra.”
“Do you? If so, I want your goddamn surveillance all over her, as well as my own. The second it gets too hot we get her out. Am I clear?”
“Finally, a language I can understand.” A beat later, he’s pressing his forehead into the muzzle of my Beretta, the same way I pressed into his. “I wish her no harm. You have my word. Our surveillance team has already been tracking her from the moment Semenov barged back into her life after a two-year absence. It just so happens, yours is better… And I don’t renegade on deals. You can ask my wife if you don’t believe me.” Then, out of nowhere, he smirks, looking more like a devil than ever. “Now, who do I have to kill around here to get some bourbon?”
Three hours later, we’re sitting in one of the private gaming rooms at Encore, weighing up cards instead of threats. That’s the thing about our line of business. Relationships don’t hinge on percentages. It’s all about respect. Show fear and you’re a dead man. Show audacity and you’re a player.
“The girls are crossing the continent in a ferry from Calais. Two truckloads. A hundred in each.” Grayson taps the red felt for another card from the dealer. “They’re planning to enter the country in Dover at eight p.m. Our estimation is they’ll be hitting London around midnight.”
“The Brigăzi will process them at a warehouse in Vauxhall.” Santiago takes a measured sip of his bourbon and glances at the corners of his own cards. “Our sources indicate that O’Sullivan and Semenov will be there to oversee. This is the first shipment of a new deal. He’ll want everything on point. The Brigăzi are jumpy bastards. They only like to deal with their fellow Romanians, so the first sign of trouble and they’ll run. We plan to hit them hard just before one a.m.”
Grayson folds on a twenty-two with a curse, tossing his bad hand across the blackjack table. “You say you have people in the emergency services? Tell them to take their time arriving at the scene. Our men are good. Civilian casualty count should be at zero.”
“While the trafficking cunt count will be sky high,” mutters Viper, staring down at his cards.
Santiago glances at him. “Find out if any of your contacts have businesses nearby. We need strategic access points. Places to set up a base. We need your men standing by as well.”
“I’ll make a few calls.”
Grayson reaches for the bottle of bourbon and pours himself another double. “We’ll have The Red Compass on a ‘shoot to wound’ order. After the area is secure and we’ve got the girls out, they’re all yours. It’s your vengeance. Your families’ deaths they need to atone for—”
“And we’ll take our time because of it.” Sticking on a hand of nineteen, I pass the game to Santiago. “What about Mario?”
“You want him, too?”
“Let’s just say he touched something that didn’t belong to him.”
“How very stupid of him.” The Colombian grimaces. “Jesus, these cards. Where the fuck is Thalia when you need her? My youngest daughter,” he clarifies. “Five years old, and she already outplays me.”
Grayson leans forward and studies his cut glass tumbler for a moment. “We know about your boy, Lastra. If he’s there on Friday, we’ll make sure no one touches him.”
That fist in my chest is back. Pushing. Squeezing. “I doubt he will be, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
I received a message from Silas half an hour ago. Ada’s back at the house on her own. No strip clubs. No Semenov. A one-night reprieve. He’s on his way over to the casino right now with new information about Alex.
“Then we’ll talk more tomorrow.”
I glance over at the boy he arrived with. He’s sitting quietly in the corner, sketching into a black notepad.
“My son, Edier,” he says, following my gaze, with the first hint of warmth in his voice I’ve heard all day.
“Does he hold a gun as well as a pencil?”
He considers my question for a moment. “Not yet, but he will.”
“How old?”
“Fifteen.”
Similar age to Alex.
“Viper’s kid should be around here, too…” I trail off with a frown, realizing I haven’t been sassed out with attitude all afternoon. Swinging my gaze to Viper, he jerks his head at my office next door.
“Family.” Santiago folds on a twenty-three and this word. “You can have all the power, all the money…but in the end, they’re just a bunch of zeros. Family is the only number in your life. The only one that counts. Certain members excluded, of course.” He flashes that vicious smile again, conscious that I know he killed his own father and brother. “Aren’t you going to ask why eradicating sex trafficking means more to me that my cartel?”
“Altruism is alive and well in the Republic of Colombia?”
His good humour vanishes. “My daughter was taken. She’s safe now, but the scars remain… Family.” He finishes on that word again, drumming his fingers against the felt. “Men like us live to right the wrongs done to them. That’s why when I leave on Saturday, my men and Lebedov will remain. My soldiers will stay for as long as it takes for you and Viper to establish your new order and destroy the old. They’ll be under your command until your revenge is satisfied.”
“Why him?” I tip my drink at the silent Russian sitting on the other side of Grayson. “Last time he fired a decent shot, the Soviet Union still existed.”
Lebedev chuckles at this. “My wife has expressed an interest in returning to the UK for medical treatment. I am not interested in making moves on your city, Frankie. All I want is to wipe out Semenov’s Bratva cell. We have, how you say, history between us. My sister has a daughter in St. Petersburg. Thanks to Semenov, her innocence ended the night of her thirteenth birthday party.”
Once the game is over, I follow Viper out to the main floor. The place is teeming with suits and skirts. London is a curious city and new high-end establishments will always attract interest. I’ll be adding two more casinos to our portfolio soon. Sideshows like bars and clubs will fall into our lap once the Red Compass is crushed. Legitimate businesses make hiding the prohibited ones so much easier.
When we reach the main bar, he turns to say something to me, then hesitates.
“Are you going to give me a clue, or do I have to punch it out of you?” I click my fingers at the bartender for two whiskeys, but Viper’s already pushing past me.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Wait.” I grab his arm. “This is the meeting we’ve been waiting for. You heard what Santiago said in there. The deal is on. We’re this close to—”
“I know. Fuck, I know.” He looks angry suddenly, but it burns out twice as quick. “I just need some fucking air.”
“Then go stand under an air conditioning unit. Is this about me pulling a gun on him?”
“No, but you might want to explain that to my heart-attack. Look, Frankie,”—he stops and glances behind him—“your man is here. I’ll catch you later.”
Shrugging me off, he nods at Silas as they pass.