Dmitry's Closet Nelson, S. (best reads TXT) 📖

meetings, but he also had paid an FBI agent to train Anatoly to check the room for bugs and the phone for taps.

“It’s clear,” Anatoly said, standing in the back of the room, two Glocks visible in the leather holsters under his arms.

“Good. Now,I’ll make this quick, mostly because I just don’t want to be here today,” Dmitry huffed, irritated. “While I am your leader, I’ve always considered us to be brothers. I have been fair with you. Where I have pros-pered, so have you. But the knife cuts both ways. Where I have suffered, so shall you, if you are the cause. Would you not agree that this is wise?”

They all agreed that it was not only wise but generous.

“Then why would one of you desecrate the most scared of our laws by talking to the police?”

The men looked around urgently, all surprised, at least one scared of what he knew the consequence would be. Death. It was part of the code. No Vor cooperated with the government. It had been the one code that was unbreakable, and so far in all the years they had been in Memphis, it had gone unbroken.

“Which one of you is it?” He pointed down the table as he talked. “I’ll make things much easier for you, if you just tell me the truth, now. But if you force me to tell you who you are, it will be most unfortunate for you.” His voice never raised but his demeanor was cold and sinister. His long finger fell behind the force of his stare. He sat back in his chair and sighed, waiting for a response. There was none.

The room was silent. Some of the older counterparts grumbled under their breath, angry at the leak, anxious to know who the snitch was. How dare someone talk! The outrage overflowed.

Dmitry looked down at his watch. The long ivory dial made its way around the circumference of the golden plated watch face.

“I’ll give you another thirty seconds. I’ll even count it down for you. One, two, three, four…”

As Dmitry counted down the death sentence, Anatoly moved from the back of the room out of the darkness of the shadowswith the shiny, chrome nine millimeter in his hand. Each person looked at the other while watching Dmitry’s face for some indication of who the traitor was. But he gave no sign, he simply kept counting. “Thirty,” he said finally.

There was an unmistakable click as Anatoly pulled the trigger. The shot was quick and accurate. A man’s body on the far end of the table flew forward, blood spewing out of his disfigured head in ulterior-spray red on the others. There was no gasp or shock. They all looked on bemused, horrified that their friend had been a traitor. His death was insignificant because of his treachery.

Dmitry looked down at the brain matter on the folder that had projected across the room and cringed. Even in the man’s death, Kirill had made a mess of things.

He took the handkerchief from his side pocket and wiped the folder off. Then, he carefully passed the folder with the leaked transcripts of conversations about each of them along with pictures of the traitor meeting with the police to the man on his immediate right.

“It’s sad day when we cannot trust our own. This man has been my friend for many years. He was one of the original settlers. I know his wife, his children, his mistress, his life. It pains me to have done this, but you all know therules that we live by. I have granted you the ability, unlike many of our brothers across the world, to marry, to have more than we would have in Russia, but one thing will not change. We do not cooperate with police; they cooperate with us. We do not roll over on each other. It has always and will always be punishable by death.”

The men agreed silently, looking on for their leader’s direction.

“What was he speaking to the police about,” Khalid asked, a mid-fifties, balding Russian man. Putting on his glasses as the file arrived in front of him; he clinched the paper with his bony, slender fingers and squinted as he read the sobering transcripts.

“The police are forming a strong investigation against us. They want to find out who is the leader. They think that if they cut head off, organization dies.”

“We have evolved much since the old days,” Khalid smirked.

“Sometimes I fear to our own detriment,” Dmitry rep-lied.

“How did you find out?” another man asked perplexed.

“I am not without my own contacts in most agencies. I will not, however, reveal my source.”

“For how long has this gone on?” another man chimed in, disgusted by the betrayal.

“He was arrested the other night by a local. Subsequently, he was questioned by feds because of his knowledge. One of mineinside got the information to me.” Dmitry sighed.

Frustrated, he clinched his teeth, but did not raise his voice. “With every choice, there is a consequence. So, enough about him. We move forward.”

The men were dead silent but in agreement with Dmi-try. He focused in, past the fury and hurt in his heart.

“In the next few weeks, we have much to do. If we are going to successfully take over the northern territory, we have to get new reinforcements from New York. I’ve already met with them. We have about ten new guys coming in soon. Plus, I have sent to our friends in New York for a seasoned leader for hisplace. I have asked that they send someone with impeccable skills in nuclear trafficking,” Dmitry said, daring not to ever utter his dead friend’s name again.

“The northern territory has always been crap shoot. It’s time to organize it and utilize the roadways to transport. It’s cheaper, and if you lose one shipment, you’ve got hundreds more behind it and before it. Now, this won’t be easy. State troopers are doubling in number up the I-40 highway, but its prime real estate. I’ve already