Saving Anya (29 page)

“
Every time that he gets angry with you, he hurts her,” Royal said, touching her temple. Putting her hand on her hip, she frowned. “Don’t you get that?”

“
You don’t understand how things work, Royal. When was the last time that you kidnapped someone?”

“
I don’t have to kidnap someone to know what is at stake here. This is my daughter, dammit!”

“
And she’s not mine!” Dmitry asked in a growl. “I told you when this first started to let me do this.”

“
You’re provoking him, Dmitry!” Royal screamed, cutting him off. “All I care about his getting her back. You two can have a fucking pissing match after she’s back in my arms safe.”

“
This isn’t about a pissing match. Every second counts, and while I’m standing in here arguing with you about how to safely bring her back, I’m wasting time,” he screamed back at her. Turning around, he opened the door and slammed it behind him. The jolt made the painting on her wall fall and hit the floor. Glass broke against the limestone and shattered below her feet.

“
Damn you!” Royal screamed out as she heard his footsteps out in the hallway. “Damn you to hell, Dmitry, if you cost me my baby!”

Chapter 24

The sound of aircraft approaching the lawn echoed around the grounds. As a tornado of winds whirled around the front yard and bodyguards ran out to secure the perimeter, three helicopters landed in the large yard in front of the Medlov chateau. As the doors swung open, each council member was escorted out by their staff and brought up the gravel walkway to the staircase and led up to the front of the house.

Six men in dark designer suits filed into the house one right after the other: Khalid Sidorov, brothers Roman and Leonid Kuznetsov, Alexander Lebedev, Igor
Golovakha
and Pavel Yeltsin.

Khalid Sidorov was the oldest of the council members at nearly 72 years old. Age had made him a more fragile man who had lost the muscle of a young brute and was now frail in his dark suit, holding on to a cane with hands full of arthritis and covered in liver spots. His wealth had provided him good nurses and care but he was still very much in bad shape as was evident in his appearance.

The other five board members were brand new, all hand-picked by Dmitry and Anatoly after the near mutiny of the council by the now dead Yuri and Oleg, who tried to assassinate Anatoly nearly a year ago. Their sons Roman and Alesky where now imprisoned after being set up by Gabriel when he was with the DEA to protect his cousin and uncle. After the ordeal, the board was basically defunct. Old members had been dismissed except for Khalid. To add new life, the Medlov men had picked up and coming Vor who had managed to successfully integrate into society unnoticed by kept true to the brotherhood.

Brothers Roman and Leonid Kuzentsov were twin brothers who had taken the Eastern European block and Western Europe by storm. Sons of the respected Vor Pavel Smirnov (of no relation to Evgeny Smirnov), the boys had inherited a fortune, been classically educated at Oxford like Vladimir, Khalid’s son, and had taken over two major industries. Roman was the president of RBZ Bank in Austria and his brother, Leonid, was a steel tycoon in Moscow, who had recently moved part-time to Spain. Both were familiar with Dmitry Medlov and were happy to be vetted and finally chosen to sit on the board when asked.

Alexander Lebedev was a man of fortune who had made his millions in pharmaceuticals. He and Dmitry had met during one of Dmitry’s meetings in Sweden, where he had heavily encouraged Dmitry to invest in one of his newest medical breakthroughs, a drug to help with restless leg syndrome – which he asserted was a side effect of so many other medicines until they both would be thoroughly rich with the launch of his newest line. Lebedev had been correct in his forecast and made the men millions. However, the men made even more money off their black market sales of his other medicine, a sex enhancement drug sold at nearly all of Igor
Golovakha
’s high end night clubs.

Igor was a brilliant man who had never stepped foot in a club. However, he owned over 500 of them in Russian and most of the neighboring countries. Devoted to the Vor, he was one of the only council members that kept true to the code strictly. He had been Anatoly’s pick, because of his clubs, which Anatoly had used to set up meetings regarding his guns. It had been a perfect marriage and continued to be.

The last member was Pavel Yeltsin a man of no relation to Boris Yeltsin, but widely known for his computer wizardry. He commissioned over 2,000 computer specialists to steal, re-create and destroy every type of human identity globally. Dmitry and Anatoly had met with him on several occasions before making a decision, simply because they knew that one day Pavel might very well be more powerful than them. However, Pavel had no interest in going up against weapons traffickers. Instead, he saw the union as a way to ensure his own businesses success and provide himself protection against those who might have once tried to encroach on his territory. The final decision had been made only a few months ago to add him to the council and so far, everything had gone well.

The board was actually stronger now. The men had no long-term ties to the Medlov Crime Family before last year and this new start gave the Medlov men new life in the global structure of things. It also made them a hell of a lot more powerful in the underworld. So far, no one could match them. With clubs, pharmaceuticals, weapons, steel and identity theft, they were close to taking over whole countries if they so desired.

This had only been the second time since Dmitry and Royal had moved to Prague that the council had met here, but even still Dmitry had a special room connected to his office for their meetings.

Stepan was there to greet the men as soon as they came through the door. His presence was a mix of old world Vor and modern butler with tattoos on his hands, up his arms and always impeccably dressed. With a servant-like bow, chrome guns holstered under his arms in a tailored white shirt and black slacks, he motioned toward the left wing of the house and then escorted them slowly to their meeting spot.

Stepan was nearly 67 years old and had come to the chateau many years ago, well before Dmitry’s father had passed. With the deed to the house, also came Stepan according to local legend. He was a quiet man whom many where not sure could speak English until he broke his silence to say something of importance.

The story was that the old man had vowed service to the Czar of the Vor after Evgeny Smirnov’s predecessor saved his son from the persecution of the communists well before Russia fell.

However, Stepan had never said a word about his previous life and made a point to only focus on his job. Since he had worked for Dmitry, he had never had a wife or a lady friend, never spoke of children or even family. He was the quiet second-in-command of the house and most who met the quiet, bald, man with a hard face of long straight nose and dark blue eyes, figured that he could use the guns well that he brandished daily. So no one tried him.

And the only one who truly knew Stepan’s history was Dmitry and he never told a soul…not even Royal.

Coming to a halt at the double doors beside Dmitry’s study, Stepan slowly grasped the brass knobs of the doors and opened them wide. Stepping aside, the men filed inside and took their respective seats around the long table that awaited them with coffee, tea, vodka, caviar and other cordials.

“
Do any of you require additional food or drink?” Stepan asked as he looked around the table at each man.

They all gave a quick nod of no and then flipped open briefings that Dmitry had his tech team prepare to bring them up to speed.

“
Very well, please ring if you should find yourself in need of something,” Stepan said in a low, croaking voice before he slowly made his way out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

There were two chairs vacant. The men put two and two together and knew before Dmitry even entered the room that he was returning.

In the past, during meetings, Dmitry sat in the corner and listened, but having removed himself from the council, chose not to sit at the table.

This time however, there was a chair at the front of the table and a chair at the end of the table. The one at the front had been made especially for his large build with a higher than normal back and a longer than normal seat. The arms were fashioned in wood and brass and the entire chair was covered in black leather upholstery. It was without a doubt, Dmitry’s signature style- elegant and masculine.

The men read the briefing with intrigue. Flipping through the pages, they snapped their fingers and their bodyguards quickly came to the table to fix their beverages and small plates of caviar with crackers.

“
Can you believe this shit?” Leonid hissed as he licked his thumb and quickly turned the page.

“
This proves one thing and one thing only…” his brother, Roman, said sipping his tea. “No one is untouchable. But that goes for the protagonist and the antagonist of this little story. According to this, the money was transferred to my bank. I can find out whose name is on that account now.” Grabbing his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, hanging on his chair, he stood up and walked over the window.

“
Who would be stupid enough to give an account number to an Austrian Bank?” Alexander asked. They have to know that we would trace it.

“
I need a trace on…” Roman snapped his fingers and his bodyguard brought over the file. Flipping the document open again, he called out the numbers and waited.

Khalid sat quietly in his chair and looked at the information. His eyes were glued to the picture of Balthazar and Manon. Running his hand over the black and white composite, he took a deep breath and reached into his pocket for his pain pills.

“
Where is Dmitry?” Pavel asked, closing his brief. He had read enough. “There has to be a reason why he wants to meet with all of us in the middle of this fiasco.”

“
Maybe he needs our help,” Roman interjected.

“
Couldn’t he have simply called in a favor?” Pavel followed up. “There was no need to fly us out.”

“
He’s taking over, Pavel,” Khalid said in a matter-of-fact tone. He raised his boney finger and pointed at the chair at the head of the long table. “He’s taking his rightful place as Czar again. And Anatoly is going to step down and serve as a council member
just like the rest of us
.” He pointed down to the other end of the table at the other vacant chair.

“
Well, maybe not exactly like the rest of us. At the end of the day, Anatoly will still be Czar whether he steps down today or not. It’s his legacy,” Roman muttered.

“
I rather like the idea,” Alexander said cheerfully. “The man has a world of knowledge to share. We can’t go anywhere but up.”

“
But the big question why now?” Roman asked. “Why in the middle of this?”

“
God only knows,” Khalid said, shaking his head.

***

Dmitry was still reeling from fighting with Royal thirty minutes after it had happened. He had gone upstairs to have a quick drink and slip into another dress shirt before his meeting, but mostly he needed to get away from everyone after he made the wire transfer of $250 million of his fucking money with no sign of his daughter.

He clenched his fist at the thought of Royal again. How could she question him now? Of all people? Hadn’t he told her to trust him? Hadn’t he told her to let him handle this? In a fit, he had madly punched the wall in the bedroom and left a large hole where he stood. The action had left his hand bloody, but the release felt good to him. In that moment, he thought about punching it again but worried that his hands would be too swollen to use when it was time to put them around Balthazar’s neck. That was the only thought that stopped him.

Looking at himself in the custom-made body length mirror in his bedroom, he slipped on his suit jacket and moved closer to his reflection. He stared at himself blankly for a minute and then turned around on his heels and headed out of the bedroom door. Nostrils flaring, chest stuck out, he walked with purpose towards the meeting. The heel of his shoe and his long stride echoed down the hall as he made his way past his sons’ room, past the bathrooms and the other guestrooms to the large stairwell that led down to the main floor.

As he looked down the long flight of stairs, he took control of his feelings and locked them away. He knew that the answers to finding his daughter where in the room he was about to enter and the only way that he could get to her was to keep his cool. Reminding himself of that, he stilled his racing heart and made himself go numb.

With each step that he made down the stairs, he closed a little more of himself off. He shut off the hysteria of not knowing where his precious angel was. He shut off the pain of being again reminded of his brother through his devious works. He shut off the fury of being deceived by Khalid. He shut off the worry of destroying yet another part of his wife and he turned on the man who had laid dormant for too long. He turned on the cold, calculated killer who begged to be set free. He cleared his eyes of emotions, cleared his mind of consequence, cleared his hopes of tomorrow and focused.