“Not fucking long,” Sykes growls. He begins to get up.
I clamp a hand over his wrist. He’s shaking. “Where’re you going?”
“The fuck out of here.”
“No. Our orders now. We think how to get out of here, then figure where to put you.”
“Because you can’t go back to your place,” Aleksio says.
“What? I have a dog,” Sykes says.
“Gimme your address, we’ll get him out of there. Hurry,” Aleksio says.
“I can’t not go home.”
“We got places,” Aleksio says.
“It’s not cool,” Sykes says.
“You prefer interrogation? At the hands of Bloody Lazarus, maybe? It’s just until we find Kiro. You’ll keep investigating from a safe place we put you in. We’ll send a tail to keep you clear. You won’t be useful to them once we find Kiro,” Aleksio says.
Sykes is scared and pissed. He gives his address voice shaking. Aleksio pulls out his phone, texts Tito to grab the dog and the things he wants.
“Are you guys not worried your enemies are out there to gun us down?”
“We don’t know that’s why they’re there.” Aleksio’s phone vibrates. He checks the screen. “Tito and Nikki’ll get the dog.” He looks up at me. “Together. That’s interesting.”
“My dog’s gonna freak out if strangers come and take him.”
“Tito knows how to handle dogs. He’ll bring meat.” He looks up at me. “We have to split up. I’ll get Sykes out. You come around back and cover us if need be. We pretend not to notice them unless they make a move.”
“Running from a fight like kozel,” I say. “Like goats. I don’t like it. I could come up behind. Pop.”
“Viktor, no. We don’t even see them, got it?” Aleksio says. “We have to hurry before they get backup.”
“They’re in our face. They followed one of us, they drive our streets. We need to hit back.”
“Not the time,” he says. “Maybe we’ll find something to do after this.” He gives me a significant look that I understand immediately. He means we’ll do something on their money-laundering business. That works. I feel like getting bloody.
“You’re going with me in my car,” Aleksio tells Sykes. “Viktor’ll ride your motorcycle. Give him your keys.”
“And I do what you say or else?” Sykes complains. “Is that the situation here?”
Aleksio gives him a hard look that says yes, that’s the situation here. The man hands over his keys.
It’ll feel good to ride on a motorcycle. I’ll ride fast, and maybe the wind will blow some of Tanechka from my mind.
I fix Sykes with my own hard look. “Move with calm confidence out to the car. That’s the feeling that you want to show.”
Aleksio smiles at me. He loves when I talk like that. So much of blatnoy warfare is image.
“I’ll see you at that McDonald’s,” Aleksio says.
I nod. There’s a McDonald’s near the money-laundering warehouse.
I head to the bathroom and slip out the window, piece drawn.
Nobody’s in back. Maybe it really is just two guys. Spotted one of us.
I ride Sykes’s bike to a snaggle-toothed industrial zone southwest of downtown and pull into the McDonald’s. Aleksio shows up with Yuri after a while. We ditch the car and bike in the shadows and go on foot to the textile warehouse with the broken lookout chimney.
This textile warehouse is next to Lazarus’s main money-laundering node—where cash is collected to be used in the import scheme that makes the money legit. An old technique. This chimney gives us a perfect view of everything that goes on there. If we hit his operation when coffers are full, he’ll be reeling for weeks.
The textile warehouse security guard we threatened is there and not happy to see us. We proceed on in to the back room and call up to Santino, the man Aleksio posted. Italian. New muscle from Milwaukee.
Santino’s happy to see us. He opens his laptop and shows us the footage he’s taken from his perch, many photos in different light. He created a PowerPoint program that shows the guard roster and details. Aleksio and his patsanis, they love their charts and bullet points.
? Guards switch shifts at ten
? #2 smokes five times per shift
? Five men in all.
“We should make our move soon,” Aleksio says. “Before they change locations.”
I direct Santino to the backup to the photos. Once they’re up on the screen, I point to a sliver of light on the roof. “Is this an opening?”
“I thought it was a reflection,” Santino says. “But wait…”
We compare it to other shots and arrange the night shots in a row on the screen. “Fuck me,” he says. “It’s an opening on the roof.”
It’ll be dark soon. I suggest we grab a cable camera and try to get it down in there.
Aleksio swallows. “Climb right up on their roof? Motherfuck.” He likes it.
I’m liking it, too. “But your ankle…”
Aleksio waves it off.
“I don’t see you getting up there undetected,” Santino says.