My men, Maxwell, and I currently lounged in the living space and enjoyed its high-class splendor. The stained-glass windows of pirouetting ballerinas added a special charm to the premises.
It had been difficult to get inside his building. The condo complex included a concierge service, intercoms, and video surveillance. I called my office. My alpha team hacked into the intercoms and surveillance, temporarily disabling everything for my visit. My guards grabbed the concierge, tied the man up, and left him bound in the office. When we were done, he would be freed.
Exhaustion plagued us all. Still, no one slept. We had to be on guard when Akiva returned with his new guards. Four men took their time taping sheets of plastic all over the living room carpet. One of my men grabbed a book from Akiva’s shelf and read it. Another checked his phone. Others explored the big place, sampling some of the vodka at the bar or pocketing a few expensive watches in his bedroom.
On the couch across from me, Maxwell rubbed his eyes. “What’s the goal?”
“Kill Akiva. Finish the threat to Ava.”
“You think getting rid of Akiva will end it?”
“I think showing the families that Akiva and the Solntsevskaya don’t scare me will end it.”
“Then you’ll head to Paris?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I can’t believe there’s more than one Brotherhood. I thought you all were one big ass group.”
“There are notable groups within the Brotherhood. All pay their dues to Kazimir. When he needs them, they hand over their men and weapons for his use. Most of the time he leaves them alone.”
“But this group that Akiva has—”
“They’re Solntsevskaya Bratva. They don’t pay dues to Kazimir.”
“And they wouldn’t help him if needed?”
“They would come to watch him die.” I yawned. “They’re a group based in a small neighborhood in Moscow. Some are here in St Petersburg. Perhaps, there are others scattered around Russia, but they're confined to this country. Nothing more than fleas on a dog.”
“And the dog is Kazimir?”
I laughed. “No. The park that the dog walks in is Kazimir.”
Some of my men chuckled with me.
“If you say it that way, then why are they alive?” Maxwell asked.
“His mother’s father was Solntsevskaya Brotherhood.”
“So, basically. . .Kazimir’s grandfather?”
“Exactly. There’s blood roots in that neighborhood. Probably the men that we kill today are distant cousins to Kazimir in some way.”
“Do they know?”
“Yes. Their hate for Kazimir stems from his mother. After Kazimir’s father died, there was suspicion that the King did it.”
“Sasha’s father?”
I nodded. “Kazimir’s mother was supposed to slyly get close to the King and then kill him. Instead, she fell in love and married him. The Solntsevskaya never forgave her. When she died, many members of the Solntsevskaya came to her gave and urinated on it.”
“Damn. That’s cold.”
“When Kazimir heard of this, he delivered bombs to their neighborhood. They called that the Season of Blood.”
A few of my men drew an invisible holy cross in front of them as if the ghosts of those men would come after them.
“After the Season of Blood, the Solntsevskaya is no longer a group of several thousand men. They’re barely a few hundred.”
Maxwell whistled. “I guess the lesson in that story is to never urinate on someone’s mother’s grave.”
“Even more important, never piss off Kazimir. No pun intended.”
“This shit is interesting.” Maxwell adjusted himself on the couch. “So, basically this group was part of the overall Brotherhood until they urinated on the grave?”
“Basically.”
“And now they’re separate?”
“Exactly.”
“So, Kazimir won’t mind you killing any of them?”
“Not at all.”
“How do I tell them apart from you all?”
I gestured to my guard, Anatoly. “Show him.”
Grabbing the neck of his shirt, he yanked it down on both sides and spoke in scattered English. “They have stars on their collar bones, but these are X’d out.”
Maxwell widened his eyes.
I continued. “It is clear disrespect to the stars on Kazimir’s collarbone.”
Maxwell nodded. “They’re saying he doesn’t rule them.”
“After solving Rumi’s murder, he planned on pulverizing them all, but as usual life happens.”
Anatoly walked off.
“Kazimir is the boss. That’s what bosses deal with.” Maxwell scratched his head. “I’m still confused about some things. Italians have their structure. Same as the Triads. Even the Shower Posse in Jamaica has a chain of command. I never understood the Brotherhood.”
“We’re like the military. Many of the earlier thieves were soldiers thrown into jail.” I sat up and raised in my hands, dotting each word. “Every country has several Brigadiers. They’re like what you Americans would think of as criminal cells.”
“People who control the drugs, arms sales, and prostitution in that area?”
“Exactly. You’ve been in this underworld for a long time.”
“Damn near born into it.”
“Good. Then this will be simple. A Pakhan runs the specific brigadier. He will have a number one and two. They’re like—”
“Gangster personal assistants?”
“Exactly, but they also serve as spies. They watch over the action of the brigadiers to ensure loyalty and that none become too powerful. One may head the support. Another would deal with security.”