Prima

“Thank you,” I said, both a bit surprised at Grigori Petrov’s instant recognition and hoped he meant every word he was saying. That would make him more receptive to the plan I was about to explain. “I’m calling you to let you know your son didn’t kill himself. He was murdered.” I heard the quick inhale across thousands of miles and could picture the man dropping into a chair, hoping Grigori’s health was as sound as I pictured a man in the top echelon of the Russian bratva had to be in order to survive.

“That claim demands an explanation,” he said.

“It does, and not one I make lightly,” I said. “I can’t offer you any solid evidence, I don’t have a written confession, but I am willing to bet my life on the fact what I’m telling you is the truth.” Taking my own breath, I added, “Though it might not be a truth that brings you any comfort.”

“If you can validate that my son didn’t take his own life, that is all the comfort I need,” Grigori said. “All the comfort his mother ever wanted, and the one thing I couldn’t give her before she died.”

“I’m sorry for your loss as well, sir,” I said respectfully, wondering how he would react to knowing his own nephew had been the one to kill his only son. Olga had confirmed that Nikolai’s father had married another mobster’s sister, making Grigori Petrov not only his uncle, but his second father when Ivan Kosloff had been killed. There was only one way to find out. “I will tell you everything but ask you allow me to do so in person and ask you not tell a soul we’ve even spoken. I know it’s a lot to ask from a person you last saw as a boy, but there is another person in danger if it is discovered this information has been leaked.”

I paused, bracing myself to hear the man tell me to fuck off and just give him the name. Patience was not something I associated with the mafia… but perhaps I should have remembered this man was the one who had financed my mother’s move to the States, had insisted she accept funds to open her school, stating it was restitution for the crime his son had committed against her husband. Even as a teen, I’d known my mother had to make the decision to stay in Russia and fight for a justice that would never come — not when the bratva owned the people in authority, or accept the money and move on. She’d chosen to leave the land she loved to take her sons to safety, to build a life for Yuri and me that didn’t include the ugliness of drugs and death.

“I’m listening,” Grigori said.

“I can only offer you this,” I said, ready to lay all my cards on the table. “If you turn me down, then know I will still make sure the right person pays for the crime of murdering my father and your son. But if you’d like to look this person in the eye and demand your own justice—”

“I’ll be there as quickly as I can make arrangements,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

“Good, I was hoping you’d say that,” I said, releasing a breath I’d not been aware of holding. “I’ve taken the liberty of gathering some information for you. My brother and I will meet your flight and tell you everything.” I spent the next several minutes dictating the information to him, neither one of us willing to put anything in writing by sending a text or email. Phone records could be pulled, but I was counting on the fact conversations weren’t recorded unless there was some sort of suspicion already in place.

“That’s it,” I said when I finished, sitting back on the couch, relief flooding through me.

“Then I’ll see you soon, and, Alexei?”

“Yes?”

“Whoever the bastard is, don’t harm so much as a hair on his head. That is my job as a father who wants revenge. Is that clear?”

“As glass,” I said.

“Do svedonya.”

“Do svedonya,” I repeated, pressing the end button and sagging back against the couch while considering the words I’d exchanged with the man.

Until we meet again.

It had been almost twenty years since I’d last seen Grigori Petrov, but I’d been a confused kid. Now, I was a man and knew exactly what needed to be done.30Clara“Are you sure you’ll recognize him,” I asked, as Alek drove toward the airport.

“I doubt I’ll have to,” Alek said, glancing over at me. “I’m sure the man has already done his own research and knows exactly what Yuri and I look like.”

“And me?”

Alek shook his head, releasing the wheel with his right hand, dropping it on my thigh. “I didn’t mention you by name. No reason to do so until we are sure he shows up and agrees with the plan.”