Chapter Six

The moment encapsulated Anatoly. He relished in the short letter that was hand-written by his baby sister. She had left it in the Bible for him, knowing that he would read it. And although he had contemplated throwing the Book away, he had kept it close because it had come from her, from her fingers, from her thoughts, from her presence. Now as he read her words on the flight home, he fought hard to keep the tears from breaching the sanctity of his eyes and rushing forth onto his hot cheeks.

My dearest brother,

Love is a fickle thing. I’ve found myself wrapped in turmoil because of your current position, but whatever you may choose as your profession, I want you to know that God is always ready to receive you, forgive you and love you. I pray for your safety and deliverance. I pray for your eyes to open to the life that you lead, and I know that one day you will find the peace that you were denied trying to protect me. When you have arrived at that moment, I will be there to welcome you to the world that you were denied.

Love forever,

Anastaysia

***

When his foot hit his doorstep, calm came over Anatoly unlike any before it. The smell of home filled his nostrils and resonated down in the core of him. Dropping his bags in the foyer, he whistled for his dogs. They both came running, nearly knocking each other down as they rounded the corner. Dropping to his knees, he stretched his arms open to receive them.

Vasily watched as his boss, very briefly, exhibited human behavior. Anatoly loved his dogs like they were people. He fed them only the best foods, allowed them to live in the house with him, unlike when his father lived at the mansion, bathed them himself, walked them, loved them.

Allowing the dogs to lick his face, Anatoly gave a hearty laugh and ran his fingers behind their ears.

“Have you been good boys?” he asked.

“Boss, I’ll take your bags to your bedroom,” Vasily said, bending down to pick up Anatoly’s luggage.

p align="JUSTIFY" height="18" width="0"> “No, I do it,” he said, standing up. “Why don’t you get out of here for awhile? You’ve been under me for like a week. I know you need some time, Vasily.” Anatoly walked with his dogs following behind him down the hallway to the kitchen. He could smell food. “Is Renee here?” he asked the maid, who followed quietly behind them, unheard and nearly unseen.

“Yes, sir. She’s in the guest bedroom.”

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“There was a storm. Her power went out, so she came here,” the maid replied.

Walking into the large kitchen, his voice echoed, “Vasily, go,” he insisted. “Take some time.”

Nodding his head, Vasily left with a grin on his face. It wasn’t so much now that his boss was concerned about him resting, it was that woman upstairs that Anatoly wanted to go to.

After eating a full meal of steak, mashed potatoes and broccoli and sharing the leftovers with his dogs, he headed upstairs to his room. He kept waiting for Renee to appear in the kitchen, but she never did. He assumed because of the hour, she had gone to bed.

As he walked down the long corridor to his own quarters, he stopped at her door. It was completely shut and probably locked. Turning the knob, he was relieved to find it unlocked. The light shone in on her as the opened the door. Instantly, he thought of his stepmother. It was strange how many years had passed, and yet some events were etched indelibly in his mind.

Renee stirred. Sitting up in the bed, her large brown eyes locked on him. She pulled the covers over her and yawned.

“You’re finally back, huh?” she said, reaching over and turning on the lamp.

“Da.” He walked inside and closed the door. “Thanks for dinner. It was good.”

“No problem. The power went out downtown. I didn’t want to stay there in the dark.”

“No, I wouldn’t want you to.” He sat down on the edge of her bed and leaned forward. With his hands on his knees, he wiped his tired eyes. “It’s been a long trip.”

“I bet. You normally stop in New York for longer when you go to Russia.”

He smirked. “I didn’t want to stop in New York this time. There is someone there...”. He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Someone like a girl?” She cut her eyes at him.

“No. A cousin,” he explained. “Ivan’s son came to funeral.”

Renee bucked her eyes. Was it possible? Another generation of Ivan Medlov was too much to think about. Thoughts of a murdered friend crossed her mind and sent chills down her spine.

“Is he like his father?” she asked.

“Hard to say. He looks like him.”

As she pushed the covers from her body, Anatoly saw that Renee had on shorts and a tank top. She sat beside him, boiling with anticipation.

“And,” she urged him to continue.

“Why did you cover up when I open the door? You’re fully dressed under there.”

Renee shook her head. “What difference does it make? Tell me what happened in Moscow.”

Anatoly reached over and pulled off her satin night cap to find her hair in large pink rollers. “I can’t look at you with that thing on your head,” he said, throwing the cap on the bed.

“This isn’t a beauty contest,” Renee rolled her eyes. “Now, what happened?” She instinctively touched her head.

“I can’t tell this story without cigarette, either. Let’s go downstairs and sit on patio,” he insisted.

“You just want to play with those dogs,” she said, getting out of bed.

Anatoly and Renee made their way outside into the cool night’s breeze. Turning on the pathway lighting, he watched Renee as she sat on the swing and looked out at the vast lawn. It amazed him how comfortable she was with him – a man capable of the most heinous crimes. As the crickets chirped and wind blew past her, she looked over and smiled at him.

He whistled and the dogs came running to his side. Kneeling down on one knee, he rubbed his dog’s ears. Lapping his face with its meaty tongue, the dog kissed his master and made him smile.

“Have you had your vitamins?” he asked the canine.

“Yeah, I gave both of them their dosages this morning,” Renee answered.

“Da? Good,” he said, standing up. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarette box, hit the bottom, pulled one out and lit it. The smoke billowed up into the air and stretched across the sky.

Slipping the cigarette in between his fingers, he walked over and sat down beside her. He felt more relaxed now, relaxed enough to tell her what happened.

“So,” Renee said, curling her feet up around her. “Spill it.”

“I was at the burial site and my father noticed a man who was tall as he was from across the way. He looked like Ivan. So, he went to confront him and when he did, the man claime be Ivan’s son. Later that night, we had a meeting with him, had the doctor swabbed him and then the next day, we found out that he is a family member. They used my father’s DNA to confirm it.” Anatoly took another drag of his cigarette and turned his face up to blow the smoke in the air. “He looks just like the fucker.”

Renee shook her head. “Man, that’s deep. So, did your father have him killed or something?”
Anatoly smiled. “No. He wants me to work with him.”

“What?”
“Can you believe it? I couldn’t. We’re meeting in Prague next week.”

“For what?” Renee squinted in disgust.

“After my father checks up on him a little more, he wants to find out what use Gabriel could be to the family.”

“Just the thought of it...” Renee bit her lip. “I don’t know. It’s not my place to say, but you know how evil Ivan was.” She tried to shake off the notion of Anatoly having to work with the likes of him.

Anatoly laughed aloud and looked over at Renee with an incredulous grin in his face. “Renee.” He touched her shoulder. “We’re all evil. Every Medlov who ever breathed or will breathe is...even me.” The smoke from his cigarette circled his face and his cold blue eyes.

Renee swallowed hard and looked at him. “Some of you are more evil than others, Anatoly. Plus, you have the potential to do some good in the world. You don’t have to use your power for evil. There is a way. There are so many ways. But you have to have balance.”

“You know, when you look at me, when you talk to me, you make me almost forget that I don’t have a soul.” He smirked. His eyes flittered in the smoke of his cigarette.

“You do have a soul, Anatoly. And that’s what I’m worried about. I don’t want you to lose it over a few dollars.”

“You know I don’t deal in a few dollars.”

“But is any amount enough to continue on like this?”

“What are you, my mother now?”

“No, I’m your friend. And I’m not as gullible as poor Royal was. So, I’m not going to just pretend and turn a deaf ear and blind eye when something I say might just resonate.”

“This is a choice. My life is what I make of it. And I choose this, Renee. This is what I’ll be for the rest of my life, no matter how bad it is and no matter how long I live. I would have expected you to know that by now.”

“Well, a girl can hope,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Someone has to pray for you.”

“There you go with that again. Why is everyone worried about my soul? My sister wrote me an entire letter about it. Here,” he said pulling out the small paper. “Read this shit.”

Sitting back on the bench, she carefully unfolded the letter and quietly read the delicate words written for the man who was as rigid as concrete beside her. When she was done, she looked over at him and tilted her head.

He felt uncomfortable under her gaze and finally shifted a little. “What?”

“How did it make you feel when you read this?” she asked, passing him the letter back.

She watched him carefully put the letter back into his pocket. He looked away from her and thumped the cigarette across the patio. His dogs sat up as he did, looking at him, somehow sensing his mood.

“It infuriated me. She judges me. Even though it was all for her.” He clenched his wide jaw. “Why is that women always want more, always want everything? They want to leave you with nothing. They want to break you down and have you fall at their feet with your sacrifices before they accept you. And they only accept you then, after they’ve put you through hell.”

“That’s love, Anatoly. Love makes you sacrifice everything.”

He barely blinked. Looking at her lips as she said the word that curved around her full mouth, he shook his head and stood up. “That’s not love, Renee. That’s stupidity. Anyone who loves you would never ask so much from you.”

“You’re just frustrated right now. Gabriel. Your mother. It’s been a hard month for you.”

“Now you make excuses for me, when just a minute ago, you were worried about my soul?” he snapped. “The only thing that comforts me is the fact that I know that my family and my family’s legacy will live on because I’m a strong enough man to not be sidetracked by idiotic notions of love and of women.”

Renee looked down at the ground away from his angry scowl. She wasn’t the least bit afraid of him, just disappointed. In silence, she rubbed her hands over her skin.

Anatoly immediately wished that he hadn’t snapped at her. None of this was her fault, but it baffled him why she tried to make everything her problem.

Feeling guilty, he sat back down and put his arm around her. She tried to pull away, but his hands gripped her bare skin. He put his head to hers and gruffly sighed.

“I’m a lost cause, Renee.”

“No, don’t say that,” she said in a pained voice. “You’ve just never had a chance.”

***

Gabriel touched down at JFK airport and was taken directly to his high-rise apartment in Manhattan. He watched the city lights pass by as he sat qetly thinking. So much had happened so quickly – so much to digest. His head ached, his questions multiplied and no answers were within reach.

With shades on in the dead of night to hide his tired, red eyes, he pulled his exhausted body out of the back of the black town car and out into the rain. With luggage in-hand, he walked past the doorman.

“Good evening, Mr. Medlov. Happy to have you home,” he said with a smile.

“Happy to be home, Oliver,” Gabriel said, taking off his shades as he entered the lobby.

Running his hand over the elevator button, he sank into the corner and waited to arrive at the penthouse. It was then that he thought about how his place had been ransacked by Anatoly while he was Moscow. Prick.

As the elevator chimed and the golden doors swung gracefully open, he grabbed his key and unlocked his door expecting the worse. The click of the lock unhinging made his heart constrict. He didn’t mind killing people much, but he hated messy houses. However, it was a complete surprise to find everything in order. Anatoly had promised that if he checked out, his home would be restored. He guessed that the little shit had kept his word.

Throwing his bags on the floor, he closed the door behind him and peeled out of his jacket. He took a deep breath, savoring the smell of his home – a mixture of expensive leather and cleaning products.

Walking slowly from room to room, he checked to see what all had been misplaced, discarded, destroyed. He could find nothing. In a way, he was relieved. While it did not take away the feeling of being invaded, he was glad that the most important things had not been abused – pictures of his mother and his father. He stopped by his bed and looked down at the nightstand to see a picture of him when he was four with Ivan, sitting by the Christmas tree at his mother’s home in Manhattan. Those were happy times. That was before he found out what his father was and vice versa. It was amazing to him how blissful ignorance could be, how it could shelter one from being forced to actually live and plug into reality.

He set his keys down beside the framed photo of his father, slumped on the side of his bed and wiped his tired eyes again. Checking his watch, he realized that it was already well past nine o’clock at night.

What he really needed was a shower. He had been traveling for days. The clothes he had on reeked of airports, cigarettes and Russia.

This had been his first trip to Moscow. He had prepared for it for many months, and in his mind, he knew exactly what he was going to say to the men who had murdered his father. Several times, during their many discussions in the short period of time, he thought about just shooting them and getting it over with for all of them. But that would have been too easy.

Walking into his bathroom, he casted off his clothes in the corner and stepped into the shower. Rubbing his hand over the cold surfaces of the shiny knobs, he tned on the hot water and let it soothe his tired body. Hot steam rolled off his skin, carrying with it the scent of a long day. In a daze, he ran his hands over his body, over his tattoos, washing some of the excess ink into the water.

“Shit,” he said, realizing that his marks were fading.

It would be necessary now to avoid too much soap until he could get to his faux tattoo artist at the shop. The thought mildly disgusted him, and he quickly washed and stepped out into the cold air.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he stalked into his bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans and slipped them on, along with a gray t-shirt and a pair of worn boots. Hair still wet, he checked his phone and realized it was time to get to the massage parlor for his meeting. After slipping on a skull cap, he dashed back out into the rainy evening.

He loved Manhattan best at night. It was unlike any other place in the world. Full of life. The people here did not care about weather or time. They roamed through the city going from one destination to the other with ease.

As he bundled up in his leather coat, he took in his surroundings, thinking of what it might be like to just be a guy with a normal life. A couple passed him, holding each other close and avoiding the rain with their large umbrella. They seemed happy. While he didn’t know them, the look on their face portrayed peace. That was something he had been without for most of his life.

Being raised by a mother with trust issues and a father who was by all accounts socially dysfunctional, he had spent most of his life seeking something. Peace was a word that was foreign to him. He had no recollection of what real happiness meant, what really family was supposed to be or what simplicity entailed. His life was a mirage of bad memories, even though he had been the recipient of more money than most and privy to a world that most thought only existed on television. There was supreme nothingness in what he had found. He didn’t belong – not to the Vory, not to the government.

Ducking into a shabby store-front massage parlor out of the rain a few miles away from his penthouse apartment, he took off his jacket and stomped his feet on the mat.

A small Asian woman escorted him through the small lobby lit by red light bulbs and decorated with faux plants to a small room with a massage table. Quietly, she closed the door after him and locked it. Digging into his pocket, he took out a thumb drive and placed it on the table across from him and sat down in the corner on a small stool.

Minutes later, the door in the back of the room opened and a tall Chinese American man appeared. Agent Lee was a middle-aged cynic who lived for his job with a no-nonsense, permanent scowl and a cop-style crew hair cut to match. He locked the door behind him and quickly got to the discussion.

“How was Moscow?” he asked, grabbing the thumb drive and stuffing it down into the inner pocket of his wool coat.

“Cold,” Gabriel replied. “But also productive. I passed the test. I am who I say I am. I’ve got a meeting with the entire Medlov family in Prague at Dmitry’s home in one week.”

“Impressive,” Lee said, sitting across from him. “And what of Anatoly.”

“Oh,” Gabriel smiled. “He hates my guts like we thought he would. The only problem that I can possibly see is Royal. The wife is a real piece of work.”

“How so?”

“Well, she obviously doesn’t trust me. I guess her history with my father doesn’t help. But I have to win her over. I get the feeling that her opinion of me will determine just how long I live.”

“She’s supposed to be dead, you know.” Lee put another thumb drive on the table and slid it across to him. “But she’s small fries. She’s never been involved in anything illegal, but faking her own death, from what I can tell. And it’s going to be nearly impossible to get her back to the states and from under Dmitry’s protection to do anything useful on her. At this point, I would just try to stay on her good side. Any mention of drugs at all?”

“Not one mention of anything illegal, but I’m sure that’s what the meeting is for.”

“How long do you expect them to keep you there?”

“As long as they want. I don’t get the feeling that these men function on the same timetable as the rest of the world.”

“So, how do we keep your cover concrete is the question? Since you left Russia, there has been a serious investigation on all your background with the New York families and inquiries from some of the oldest and more notable mob figures from all sorts of families from half way across the world.”

“What can I say? I’m popular.”

“Let’s keep it that way. We’re wiring more money for you. You need to be a little flashier. We’ve also got a back story for you on a few murders you were involved in last year. You can read through the thumb drive when you get time. Your place has been bugged, tapped, everything else since the break in. You’ll need all new computers and everything. Remember to be extra careful. No communication with anyone who is not involved with the Medlov family and only communicate through me from here on out until you’re pulled from undercover.”

“I know the drill. I don’t think we should treat Royal with kid gloves though. I’m telling you, I have to get her on my side.”

“Well, what would you suggest?”

“I was reading her file, and she’s an orphan right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, since I’m supposed to be an identity hacker, I need to pull a few strings and get some information that would definitely be sealed.”

“Regarding whom?”

“Royal, of course.” Gabriel pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and passed it to Agent Lee. “This is what I could come up with myself, but I need more.”

Lee looked at the paper and then folded and put it away. “Is this all?”
“This may be what I need to win her completely over and break through the barriers to really get the family to trust me.”

“Or it could prove you’re a cop.”

Gabriel smiled. “I would think that it would prove that I’m the latter. Trust me, I’ll be convincing, but I need it before I go to Prague.”