Gabriel was silent. He wasn’t going to tell Yuri anything. “Torturing me is just a pastime for you, isn’t it? You already know that I don’t know anything, but you enjoy our exchange because something about me remind you of how insignificant you are.”
Yuri stopped pacing. “You’re very smart. Yes, I do torture you only because I want to, because men like you sicken me and you are a disease to the entire world.”
Gabriel threw back his head and smiled despite the pain. “Says the dirty little mutt who claims to be a pure blood.”
Yuri picked up the Taser and stuck it on Gabriel’s back, sending an electric current down through his body.
Gabriel seized up for a moment, screaming out in pain until Yuri eventually pulled away. “Fuck you!” he screamed, tired of being locked in this place. “I’m not telling you shit, except yes, we’ve only met a short time ago, but I’ve known her and women like her my entire life. And I do believe in her cause. That’s why I killed you fuckers like cockroaches by any means possible. I had those coward sons of bitches shot and burned like the pieces of shit they were.”
Gabriel braced again for another shock, but the door to the room opened abruptly and Yegor stepped in. He looked at Gabriel, covered in his own piss and blood, and then at Yuri.
“What is it?” Yuri asked, frustrated that he had been interrupted.
“Kiev is on the line,” he said, taking his eyes off Gabriel.
Whoever was on the line from Kiev was far too important to ignore. Putting the instrument away, Yuri wiped his hands on his uniform pants. “Saved by the phone, eh.” He walked away, leaving Gabriel alone.
As the door closed and the dark room was again empty, Gabriel felt a calmness surround him. “Much of life is about being alone,” he said, quoting his father. He was glad for the 10-year old advice at the moment. It was quite possible that no one was coming for him and that no one knew where he was, but he was determined to survive, at least long enough to kill Yuri Danko.
“I’ve got Medlov blood, damn it,” Gabriel said, resting his head back on the chair. “Medlov blood.”
Chapter Four
Strategy Wins and Loses Wars…
Prague, Czech Republic
Medlov Compound
After Faddei finally was forced to give his real confession in the barn, there was little time to waste in celebration of their feat. Dmitry knew that he needed to move forward with developing a plan to get Gabriel back before his nephew ended up with a bullet in his head by some rogue Nazi militia man. In small doses, he had dealt with these types before over the years. Unfortunately, they were not like well-formed governments. Everything was based on emotion and insult and unlike those who strategized well, they were often blind to long term goals, which made them make very rash decisions.
In addition to his worry for his nephew’s life, for Dmitry, there were concerns. If there was someone holding Gabriel, who was as skilled in torturing as he was, then they might be able to get sensitive information out of his nephew that could affect their other operations in other regions. He did not doubt Gabriel’s loyalty, but the boy had never truly been through any type of physical abuse. Something so polarizing could make him resort to a certain amount of cooperation.
Gathered in Dmitry’s office, the men reflected on what they’d learned. Most of them were covered in water, mud, blood and urine, but in silence they sat around their boss as he thought through their strategy.
The sun shined through the open windows, pulled open to let in the fresh air and let out the stench of their earlier pursuits. On request by Royal, a large lunch had been sent to the men and set up by the house staff like a catered business buffet atop white linen tablecloths on long tables with finger foods, salads, sandwiches and beverages. A special meal had been prepared for Dmitry – something designed to be a little more filling.
“How far is Marat’s team from Donetsk now?” Dmitry asked, glancing at his Presidential Rolex. The interrogation had been shorter than he first imagined, but now that he knew what was going on, he felt he had stayed with Faddei much too long.
Toward the back of the large office, Vasily sat in one of the chairs at the long wooden meeting table with a GPS tracker in his hand. “They will be in Horlivika tonight.” His voice echoed across the room.
“The colonel imbedded them with Russian military that was mobilizing from the border this morning.” He sat down the tracker and picked up the hand sanitizer. “They are to check in as soon as they arrive.”
“Things have changed now that we know that it is the Nazis behind this.” Anatoly said as he typed an email message on his computer while the men talked, trying to get his contact in Donetsk to find out more about Faddei’s family as his father had requested. “It’s not Ukraine, and it’s not Russia. Surely that gives us some type of leverage now to move in faster.” He looked up furrowing his blonde brows at his father.
“You would think.” Dmitry picked up the steaming hot turkey leg that had been prepared for his lunch and took a large bite at the sound of his stomach growling. Thank God for Royal. Mouth full, he swallowed hard as a thought hit him. “What we need to find out is how many Neo-Nazi camps there are in and around Donetsk up to a 50-mile radius.” He tapped the map that was pinned up to the war room wall with his knuckles and paused as he looked at the image. “Nine times out of ten, that’s where they are keeping him.” He wiped his mouth of the excess grease. “Who do we have that can provide that?”
“Allan can do it,” Anatoly answered, standing up to go over to the buffet. “He’s in Kiev now. I got a text from him earlier. He’s waiting for our instructions.” Anatoly hadn’t spoke on it, but he felt that Allan was just as responsible for everything that had happened as they were, considering this was his mess to start with. Giving him something to do to further involve himself more in getting Gabriel back was only fair.
“Get him on the phone within the hour,” Dmitry said, unable to sit and eat. His mind was racing a mile a minute and his pulse with it. Passing his chair, he took another bite. “We need him to check with his contacts in the Ukrainian government and get us a list. I know that they have to have one. I want it.”
“What about Valeriya?” Nadei asked, not wanting them to overlook the resources they currently had already. “She might know off the top of her head or at least quite a few of them. And she may know the players as well.” He hoped that she could provide some credible insight considering that he had brought her back instead of Gabriel. If she wasn’t useful to them, then he had failed in yet another way.
Anatoly looked over at Nadei and frowned. “Are we even sure that we can trust her? Just because she was Faddei’s enemy, doesn’t make her our friend. Bringing her into our operation puts us further at risk.”
Dmitry knew that Anatoly had a chip on his shoulder about Nadei but he could not let it impact their operation. “No, Nadei has a point. Like the old cliché says, my enemies’ enemy is my friend. I think she’s proven that she’s reliable. The question will be how we use her and to what extent. We’ll get any information that she has later on this afternoon.” He raised a finger. “Someone write this down and start a list.”
“Well, whatever we are going to do, we need to do it now. Sitting on our hands while these bastards make a mockery out of us isn’t exactly the Medlov style,” Anatoly said, sticking a large spoon into the potato salad and thumping it against his plate.
Dmitry couldn’t agree more with his son. He paced as he counted out his thoughts on his fingers. “The Nazis are our target now. We need to know who is running what, who could possibly be holding him, what do they want in exchange for him, how we can send a message to them, and who is going to do that. Vasily, I want you to find out those things.”
Vasily nodded and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. Everyone knew that Dmitry wasn’t one for getting things wrong. When the boss called a meeting, you should come strapped with your weapon and a pen and pad.
Dmitry continued,
now on a roll. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he poured himself a hefty glass of vodka. “Secondly, I want to know how going to war with these fuckers is going to be coordinated. This is their turf, but they share it with men that we own on both sides. Come up with a plan to use our men effectively. Anatoly, I want you to develop that plan.”
Anatoly didn’t write anything down. With a near photographic memory and having worked for his father for many years, he committed every word to his memory and locked it there for later.
Dmitry looked over in the corner at his head bodyguard, who stood like a statue, watching his every move. He knew that he was waiting to be brought into the fold.
“Boris, give me a full report of the men we have on site here ready to fight, what it will take to get them to the Ukraine undetected and how we can get our munitions there with them. See if it makes sense to use what we have or to ship from one of our warehouses outside of Moscow.”
Planting his hands on the desk, he leaned down against it and stretched his aching back. With a grunt, he continued. “I also need to know how long, realistically, it will take to coordinate all of this to get us mobilized. Maybe this can’t happen tomorrow, maybe it can, but when I step foot in Ukraine, I want everything ready to go.
No fuckups. Are we clear?” He looked around the room at the 10 men in his office and waited for confirmation.
The men collectively agreed.
“Good then,” Dmitry said, feeling a little more in control of the situation. He stood up and was preparing to head out, but Anatoly stopped him.
“Papa, you might want to fix that,” he said, motioning toward his clothes. “Just in case Anya is around.”
Looking down at his soiled clothes, Dmitry sucked his teeth. Again, Anatoly had a point. His black suit was covered in dirt. His white Oxford and black satin tie splattered with blood. Pealing out of his bloody clothes, one layer at a time, right in front of the men, he changed quickly into the shirt and pants on his desk left for him by the maid service so that he could get across the house without creating chaos.
Most of the young men had never seen Dmitry nearly naked. A boss didn’t undress in front of his underlings. But for the first time, they saw the incredible story etched in his skin through intricate Vory tattoos. His mountainous back was covered in images along with his wide, capped shoulders, biceps, forearms, knees, calves, chest and abdomen. For certain, it was more ink that anyone else had in the entire organization.
Some of them had never seen some of the work up close and personal before, because you had to be a special kind of Vor to get them.
Without knowing it, Dmitry had reassured their ranks in one small but very significant way. No one in the world got those tattoos without serving real time in the gulags of Mother Russia. No one wore those honors without killing a lot of people. It was why he had earned the nickname “Butcher” as a teen and why eventually, he rose to the top of the underworld.
But for Dmitry, it was only a change of clothes in front of his young boys. He never gave it any thought at all, having had the tattoos for a very long time.
“I’m going to take a shower and get my thoughts together. Everyone has four hours to come up with everything and then report back here. By then, have a list of things that I need to talk to Valeriya about, but I want you to get on the line with Allan now.” Grabbing his large plate, he headed out of the office toward his private chambers.
As soon as the door closed behind Dmitry, the chatter began. The men were amazed – enamored with Dmitry all over again.
The much calmer Anatoly followed through on his father’s directives after he left and before the men could disperse.
His voice rose as he sat at the head of the meeting table with his plate, computer and cell phone. “Before you all leave, did everyone get all that?” Anatoly asked, looking around the room. “I’m trying to save your ass now. The old man is in Hyperdrive, but trust me. You come back empty handed in four hours, he might shoot you.” It sounded like a joke, but he was not kidding.
Vasily nodded in agreement. “No fucking doubt.”
“Good then go,” Anatoly said, waving the men off as he settled in for his meal. He needed a few moments alone with his own thoughts.
With their orders in hand, the men quickly dispersed from the office to make calls and get the information that their boss needed, except Anatoly who stayed planted at the table working. His jeans and t-shirt were still covered in blood and smelled of Faddei, but he could work through the stench to get his work done.
Hanging behind, Nadei waited until the rest of the men left and the door was closed. There was just something better said alone. “Boss,” he said, getting up from the table. Dragging his hand down the side of the wood, he swallowed hard. “Can I have a word?”
Anatoly looked up from his computer as if the slightest interruption was a serious inconvenience. “What is it, Nadei? Don’t have enough on your plate?” He didn’t know about anyone else, but the sheer amount of responsibility that he had to pull this off was mind blowing, which was exactly why he’d work through the night if he had to.
“I needed to apologize to you,” Nadei said honestly. If he could just get this over with, he could move on with his work without it clouding his thoughts. “I know you put me on this, because you trusted me.”
Anatoly rolled his eyes. “Da, that was my mistake.”
“I want you to know that I’m truly sorry,” Nadei said, despite Anatoly’s remark. “I realize that all of this is happening because I failed to bring my captain home. But he made me promise to focus on Valeriya. He gave me orders. I did what I could, but in the end, I didn’t have a choice. If we all were killed, because I stayed, then who would be able to tell what happened. I realized my error, but tried to correct it as best I could.”
Anatoly stopped typing and pushed away from his computer. Hair pulled up in a messy bun, he threw his hands back behind him and cradled the back of his head. “You did your best, eh?”
Nadei stood up straight in front of the table. “My best, Boss,” he said sincerely. He had never been a man who apologized and very few times in his life had he been made to grovel, but he would do it now, because he meant it.
“And you apologize,” Anatoly smirked. He wasn’t big on those.
Nadei swallowed down his pride in one heaping breath. “I do.”
Anatoly appreciated the man’s honesty and humility, even if he didn’t show it. Shrugging, he blew out a breath and gazed across the room. “Then prove it, Nadei.” His blue eyes shifted to Nadei. “Bring my cousin back and then maybe I can forgive you. Until then, get out of here.” Putting his elbows back down on the table, he picked up his silverware.
“Yes, Boss,” Nadei said, turning and walking out of the office quickly. That was about as much of an acceptance as he would get from the lies of a man like Anatoly, but he’d take it, and before this was all over, he’d prove himself to the family by not messing up again.
***
The smell of torture was always a foul, repulsive thing, and Dmitry reeked of the evidence. Stepping into his custom-made shower, he put his large body under the stream of the powerful jets and cleansed the stench of blood and urine off of him before Royal had time to see or smell what he had been up to in the barn.
Planting his hands against the marble, he rolled his neck and closed his eyes as the water cascaded down his seven-foot frame. Steam billowed up in the bathroom under dim receding lights creating a thick fog and hiding him away from the world. The sound of water bouncing off the floor, echoed and drowned out the sounds of his groans.
In his mind, all he could think about was his nephew. He had played a serious game of strategy to get him into his life, to save him from a life of not knowing who he was and to redeem himself from a decade-old sins. And now, he had lost him all over again.
Gabriel had probably been tortured beyond recognition now. No doubt he was alone in some dark room, unsure if anyone would ever come for him. To make thing
s worse, Gabriel had left his presence under duress. In all honesty, he had let his anger get the best of him with the boy, but he felt at the time that it was for his own good. Gabriel had so much potential as Vor, so much knowledge and skill as a businessman until if he did not push him, it would be a waste to everyone who depended on him to lead the family long after he was gone. Still, besides the organization, Gabriel was his blood and at the present, he wasn’t there to save him. Nothing could be worse on him as his uncle and more so as his only father figure. He had to get Gabriel back.
The sound of the shower door opening, pulled his mind away from his lamented thoughts. He turned to find Royal standing there looking at him. Her seductive brown eyes flashed over his body with approval.
“Hey,” she said, offering him body wash. The water from inside the shower splashed on her shoes and dress.
He reached out and took the bottle from her hand, debating on whether or not to pull her in with him. “Hey.”
“Did you get what you were looking for out in that barn?” she asked, looking at his bruised hands. His eyes told her that she knew what he had been doing.
“Da, I got it.” As he washed the soap over his broad chest, he looked down at her and saw she was waiting for more of an answer. “We know who is holding him now.”
“Good,” she said, relieved. “Come out and talk to me when you’re done.”
After making sure he was thoroughly clean, he shaved up, brushed his teeth and headed out into his bedroom with a large burgundy towel wrapped below his abdomen. Royal was sitting on the side of the bed, brushing her long black hair and looking at the news on the television.
“Who has him?” she asked impatiently.
Dmitry raised a brow. “The Nazis.” Picking up the robe she had laid out for him, he pulled his towel from his body and threw it on the edge of the bed.
Gabriel's Regret: Book Two (The Medlov Men 3) Page 9
