I took a deep breath. “What if Bykov doesn’t take the bait?”
“Ivanov is still going down. With no leadership in place, the bratva folds, and it’s a damn crapshoot,” Sparrow said, “on who takes over. In that scenario, there will be more casualties and those will include civilians. I sure as fuck don’t want it making its way to my city.” He looked at Reid. “Have we heard from our men in the region?”
The region was the term for the northwest part of Indiana right outside of Chicago, including Gary, Hobart, Merrillville, and the like. It was comprised of the cities that worked as the land-based gateway from Detroit to Chicago—hell, from all points east. The outfit in charge of the region was second generation. Their longevity was due to their willingness to comply with different leadership. Whether it was McFadden or Allister Sparrow, they’d accepted the boundaries and regulations placed on them. When Sparrow succeeded his father, the old man in the region wavered, unsure if a young buck like Sparrow could keep the reins.
His son had no issue and was itching to move their outfit into more modern and efficient means of income. We sent men and worked with them after the untimely demise of the older leader. He owes us and has been loyal to a fault.
“They’re watching,” Reid said. “It seems that the flow of individuals associated with Hillman and Ivanov that had come our way around the time of the tournament and Ivanov’s declaration has reversed. The fires in Detroit are taking their attention away from here.”
“So basically, the bratva retreated before an all-out war,” Mason said.
Sparrow’s hand fell upon my shoulder. “Taking out Hillman was more advantageous than we planned.”
My head shook. “While I’ll take the praise, I don’t agree. Ivanov wants Chicago. He screwed up by trusting Hillman for the McFadden backup, but he still wants it. He has to go.”
“He’ll go,” Sparrow said. He turned to Mason. “What have you learned about the poker tournament in New Orleans?”
“It’s smaller than the one at Club Regal. Million-dollar buy-in and Madeline is prepaid.”
I let out a sigh. “Why the fuck would Ivanov do that if he planned on selling her to Elliott?”
Reid tilted his head. “He didn’t. It was Elliott.”
“Fucker,” I said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Ivanov seemed the obvious choice. The interesting piece to this puzzle is that Elliott paid her entry fee over a month ago,” Reid said.
“Before the Chicago tournament? Before he’d been introduced to her?” I ran my hand over my short hair as I turned in a circle. “Fucking hell. Ivanov had planned to sell her and Ruby over a month ago.”
“He was gaining financial support for his war and securing an ally,” Mason said. “He had Hillman doing legwork for him and recruiting. He had Elliott primed to win the tournament and leave Madeline without recourse but to leave with Elliott.”
The muscles in my arms flexed as I placed my hands behind my head. “Why steal the money at the club? Why kill Standish and Beckman?”
“To make me look bad,” Sparrow said. “Ivanov had the tournament set, believing that Elliott would win the jackpot, if not him he also had Hillman and Madeline. When the safe was opened, the payout wouldn’t be there. Club Regal would be in an uproar and since the club was protected by Sparrows we’d look like failures.”
Mason stood and paced a small track upon the concrete, his cowboy boots tapping with each step. “I am still wondering what role Beckman and Standish played and why they had to be eliminated.”
“Veronica Standish tried to talk to me the night before she was killed,” I volunteered. “Beckman interrupted the conversation. My gut says she caught wind of something, and that was why Leonardo paid her a visit.”
“And,” Sparrow said, “as Ivanov admitted, Beckman was no longer useful.”
“Has Leonardo shown up anywhere? He could be an option for new leadership.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I recanted. “Fuck no. He wasn’t that bright.”
“I agree with the second part,” Mason said. “And no, he hasn’t been seen. We’ve placed a search on the credit cards he used in Chicago. There have been no transactions. My intuition is that when spring comes, the snow melts, and the tractors start cultivating the farmlands from Illinois to Indiana and Michigan, someone will find what’s left of him.”
Those were some of the most disgusting corpses. While the winter’s freezing temperatures preserved the body at first, the warming temperatures accelerated the decomposition. Spring also brought the birth of everything. Babies needed food. Wolves, foxes, and other carnivores began the process, and insects continued it. Warmer weather also brought the return of flies and maggots. Another more recent development was the advancement in farming. Where in the past it was a man or hired hand on a tractor, today it can be done with GPS and programmed machinery. The body could be picked up and spit out before anyone knew it was there.
“Or he’ll be fertilizer,” I said.
“Set up the meetings,” Sparrow said. “Make Ivanov come to me. I’ll meet Bykov in neutral territory.”
“Ivanov won’t come to you for a truce,” Reid said.
“Unless he’s desperate,” I replied. “And then we know what we’re up against.” I turned to Sparrow. “I want to be the one who takes him out.”
“No promises,” he said. “Opportunity is more important than gratification.”
He was right. As long as the motherfucker was dead. I turned to Sparrow. “You’re not going alone.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but timing will decide who goes with me.”
The journals we’d taken from the Millstones caught my attention, lying scattered upon a long table away from the main computers. I turned to Reid. “Have you made it through all of the journals?”
He shook his head. “No, but close.”
“Madeline asked a question I hadn’t thought of.” I had everyone’s attention. “I fucking hate talking about this.”
“She had a question,” Sparrow prompted.
“Kristine Ortiz sold her to Dr. Miller. We know that line of the sales channel. She was then taken to what she called the cell house, a home somewhere in Chicago where she didn’t see the light of day for four months. There was a basement where the women were kept. They were all pregnant. There were no beds or running water. They were called one by one to go upstairs and service johns.”
“Fucking shit,” Sparrow growled.
Mason’s green eyes seethed with venom as he listened, no doubt thinking about the possibilities of his sister Missy. It was true that we were all affected in some way by this hideous trail of depravity.
“Four months in,” I went on, “she was brought upstairs and cleaned, the health of the pregnancy was confirmed, and she was taken to McFadden’s mansion and auctioned to a room of men. She described the gates and tall walls.” My head shook. “She also described the library where the auction took place.”
Sparrow stopped his pacing. “It wasn’t a private auction?”
I shook my head. “She said it seemed that Ivanov was always the intended buyer—someone at the cell house mentioned a special guest—but Elliott was there too as was Antonio Hillman and about twenty-some-odd others.”