Sonata (Butcher and Violinist 2)

Russians like to name things. Why is this one a mouse? And where did he come from? And is this mouse a threat to me or nothing to worry about?

My staff finished laying out the breakfast on the table. Eden glanced at the table and groaned in delight, taking my mind away from my worries. “I’m so lucky.”

“Me too.”

The sun finished rising high above Paris, as I led Eden to our table. The staff had put out a lot of food. I began to dig in.

Rafael strolled out. “I figured you two lovebirds were up, looking at the sun rise, and other corny things like that.”

“And now you’re here to brighten the day.” I gestured to a chair near me. “Hungry?”

“No.” He didn’t sit. Worry creased his face.

Dread filled me. I took a bite of my croissant, left it on my plate, and went back to Rafael. “Something wrong?”

Rafael gestured to the other side of the balcony. “Let’s talk over there. I don’t want to ruin Eden’s appetite. By the way, good morning, beautiful.”

“Good morning, Rafael.” She sipped her orange juice.

“I’m glad you decided to join the family.” He shrugged. “I hope you understand that the uncomfortable moment between us, was just a little hazing.”

She held the glass in mid-air as she shook her head. “I’ve got it. I’m glad the creepiness meant something.”

“My creepy always has a deeper meaning.” Rafael winked at her. “Stay true, and you’ll never have to worry about me.”

“That’s enough, Rafael.” I rose, wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin, dropped it, and walked us over to the edge. When we arrived out of Eden’s hearing distance, I asked, “What’s new?”

“Kazimir is in Paris.”

Excuse me?

I switched to French. “What the fuck?”

“Kazimir showed up in his plane this morning. No warning. All silent and secretive. That big machine is stinking up the fucking airport. He always overcompensates. I bet his dick is small.”

I ignored the comment, already annoyed at Kazimir’s appearance. “Is the Mouse with him? Do we have any idea who the Mouse is?”

“Nothing. Still no description or identification. Our people mentioned that he said mouse several times as he left the airport. We replaced his driver with one of our own. He’ll be giving us reports.”

“Was Kazimir talking into a phone, when he said mouse?”

“No. He was talking to a whore.”

“How do we know she’s a whore?”

Rafael shrugged. “How do we know she’s not?”

“Because he’s mentioning business around her. Have we seen Kazimir do more, than have a few whores in a city here or there, and fuck them?”

“I thought he might’ve been close to the ballerina.”

I’d thought back to the ballerina. I’d put several men on her, watching her every move. They’d only caught Kazimir’s sister, Valentina, visiting her a lot. Kazimir had barely come by. We’d needed leverage against Kazimir, but once we monitored his interaction with the ballerina, we knew she wasn’t important.

Now she’s dead. And I assume his people, or he himself killed her.

I placed my hands in my pockets and flicked my thumb back and forth. “Find out who this new woman is. Anything about her. We could be blowing his visit to Paris out of proportion.”

“I doubt it. And his new whore is untraceable. Her passport and ID are fake. Big power did it. Maybe Kazimir had it done. We’re running her fingerprints. We got a few from the limo. We should have her real information soon.”

Meanwhile, where is the Mouse? Has this guy taken Sasha’s place?

I pushed further. “No sign of another man with them?”

“No. Just the usual thugs that do Kazimir’s security. And Misha isn’t even with him.”

“Where is Misha?”

“In St. Petersburg, they’ve got some pictures of him walking around with a black guy. No one knows who the black guy is. And the black guy’s passport is fake too. Same job as the black woman with Kazimir.”

I quirked my eyebrows. “Wait. She’s black too?”

“Yes. Pretty brown skin. Nice body. Maybe, Nigerian. No one heard her talk yet.”

“She remains quiet?”

“When they’re moving around in public.”

“You think Kazimir is aligning outside of his usual allies?”

Nigerians? That doesn’t connect.

Organized crime in Nigeria, rose in the 1980s. More during my father’s time than grandparents. The gangs were infants compared to the Bratva and Corsican. They were fraudsters and small-time drug traffickers. It wouldn’t make sense for Kazimir to be linking up with Nigerian crime families. They were still earning their stripes and proving themselves. While dangerous, and nothing to disrespect, the Lion didn’t need them.

What’s going on?

“Misha took the black guy to a tailor and bought him a bunch of suits.”

“Hmmm.” I ran my fingers through my hair.

Rafael shrugged. “There’s whispers of Misha being bisexual. This could all be a coincidence. Kazimir and Misha could just be dating new people. Both black. I don’t know.”

“Misha’s bisexual rumors were years ago. Back when he was in college.”