“Let me go with you to Moscow,” Anatoly said, wanting to be there when the deal was done.
“No,” Dmitry said, turning around. Now more than ever, they needed to be strategic in their every move. “I need you here with Vasily, holding down the fort, protecting the family and our interests until it is time to go to the Ukraine. Plus, with Gabriel already in peril, we can’t risk another Medlov being harmed until the assault.”
The acknowledgement that this upcoming battle could be the end of them made Anatoly cringe.
“The one thing in this life that remains ever constant is that no one is untouchable. We’re going to prove that to them.” He ran his hand over the map of Donetsk on the desk. “Now go. Take care of this for me, while I see to instruction for Royal while I am gone.”
It had been pure bedlam and bloodshed. Over the last week, Marat and his team had successfully hit over 10 camps, crippling the Right for Donetsk to the point where it had drawn major concern from Kiev and drawn the attention of underground online news sites, who were following the attacks and sharing them with the world. There was much speculation about where the attacks were coming from, but only a few knew for sure.
However, the national traditional news outlets were staying away from the story by orders directly from higher members of parliament.
Just as Dmitry had suspected, they didn’t want the country or those who were lending their support to the cause to question the Right for Donetsk or what had happened to Valeriya Nenya.
As promised, Allan had been able to secure a meeting that would take place tomorrow between himself and Victor Davidovich. At first, Viktor, “regretfully declined” Allan’s request, but after the third hit, his office called Allan back to discuss the issue. Now that Dmitry knew where his nephew was, he could add some teeth to the conversation.
Everything was happening as planned, but in order to move the Medlov plan to the next level, Dmitry had to fly to Moscow to meet with Colonel Mikhailov and a few higher ups to secure a one-night ceasefire.
He would leave immediately.
***
Kiev, Ukraine
Budynok Uryado
(The Government Building)
On the third floor of the government building, in an office much nicer than the ones below it, Viktor Davidovich hit his desk so hard until he busted a nail. Pulling his hand back toward him, he cradled it and cursed.
“Fucking idiots!” he exclaimed.
Another report had just crossed his desk about yet another attack that had just taken place in central Donetsk. This time it wasn’t a camp; it was a fucking restaurant in the middle of the day.
According to the document that now lay on his floor, a man had walked in while seven Neo-Nazi members sat around a couple of tables eating breakfast at a local eatery. The mysterious man ordered coffee and a bagel, then as he was leaving the restaurant, dropped a bag on top of the garbage can. A few seconds later, that bag exploded and the restaurant was brought to the ground. Just like before, a message was left across the street taped on the park bench. “Give me my nephew back.”
There was no name left, just the same taunting, cryptic message. To the outside world, the message could have met anything and could have been written by anyone.
But Viktor was not as confused as the rest of Kiev. He knew exactly who the letter was referring to and exactly who was sending it.
Picking up his cell phone instead of his secure office line, he dialed straight to Yuri Danko’s office. He had told him that he needed to reach out to Dmitry. He had explained that the demand was simple. In exchange for Valeriya Nenya’s dead body, they could have their nephew.
Yuri picked up the phone reluctantly having already heard the news and expecting the call. “This is Yuri,” he said, hiding his fear.
“You miserable fucking bastard!” Viktor screamed. “I told you a week ago to get this done. Up until today, I could keep it out of the headlines, but now that Dmitry Medlov has hit a public place, I can no longer control the media. The story is all over the news. If Valeriya Nenya happens to suddenly pop up alive, claiming that she was driven out of the country after an assassination attempt by the Right for Donetsk, then all of this will be for nothing. If the U.S. finds out that you are holding an American citizen, then we will lose our funding. Do you understand what the fuck I’m saying to you?”
Yuri held the phone away from his ear. Glancing over at Yegor, he rolled his eyes. “I know what I’m doing? I just need more time.”
“No, you do what the fuck I tell you to do!” Viktor screamed, spittle shooting out of his mouth. He clenched the cell phone so tightly he felt it bend. “Not doing what you were told to do is why I have to meet with this asshole Allan Roman today. Who do you think sent him? Dmitry Fucking Medlov is who! Now, I’m only going to say this once. Fix it today! Fix it now, or tomorrow, the next dead Nazi will be you!”
Hanging up the phone, he stood from his table and straightened his tie. He hated the purest freedom fighter types. They could never see the big picture, and it was also why they would never run this country.
His assistant, a thin brunette man with intense brows and dark eyes, stood from the chair in the corner with an arm full of papers. “Your meeting is in five minutes, sir.”
Viktor snapped at the man. “I know when my meeting is!” He took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure. Running a shaking hand down his silver tie, he rolled his shoulders. In a calmer voice, he eyed his assistant. “Cancel it and get Allan Roman in here right fucking now.”
***
In the last week, since the last beating, Yuri had not touched Gabriel Medlov, but only because he had beaten him so badly until it would take at least a week for him to heal up. Now Kiev was on the line and threatening to have their balls if they didn’t fix this situation. Yegor, so far, was not impressed with Yuri’s posturing. It was clear that they no longer had a choice in the matter. Kiev ran everything and funded their operations. Davidovich was the second most powerful man in their organization. If he was displeased, then the consequences could stand to be great for all of them.
“You need to use Gabriel’s phone and call his uncle,” Yegor insisted. Closing the door to make sure that no one else could hear them, he shook his head in frustration. “Why won’t you call?” It wasn’t just him asking anymore, but many of the men under him. The entire camp was on pins and needles about the hostage and the attacks at the other sites.
“Because!” Yuri screamed at Yegor. “Dmitry Medlov is never going to give up Valeriya! Don’t you see that? If we give him his nephew, then he’ll just hold all the cards. There is nothing to negotiate. Davidovich is a politician. He thinks like a fucking politician.”
“Dmitry Medlov is tearing us down one building, one person at a time. Can’t you see that?” Yegor countered. Walking up to Yuri’s desk, he looked his friend in the eye. “You haven’t even tried to contact him, Yuri. And you must. He’s killing us just like Gabriel said he would. Eventually, he will find him, and he will come to us and our families. Are you willing to risk that?”
“What family? The Russians killed my family, remember?” Yuri’s chest swelled. He hit the table and snarled at his friend. Veins protruded out of the side of his neck. “Fuck family. Did you not expect to have to make some sacrifices? Did you not expect to get your hands just a little fucking dirty when this first began?”
“I wasn’t there when you made the deal with Faddei for Valeriya. You didn’t bring us in on what you were going to do. When you ordered us to take Gabriel and bring him here, you did not give us an option. When we made suggestions of when and how to negotiate, you did not hear us. Now you want to sacrifice our families and everything that we worked for because you despise him?” His eyes blazed. “Make the fucking call, Yuri. Kiev has already given you a direct order. If you disobey it again, then if they don’t kill you, they will replace you.”
Yuri eased away from the desk and jutted out his jaw in defiance. “You’re all ma
king a fucking mistake.”
“You made it the moment you brought that man here. Your hatred of him is going to cost us everything, and you veil it with quotes from Hitler and self-righteousness. But I see straight through you. You hate him because he’s rich. You hate him because he is American. You hate him because you can’t be him. But your hate has nothing to do with our mission and yet you have dragged us all into your chaos. Who is being selfish now?” Yegor reached into his pocket and pulled out Gabriel’s cell phone. Throwing it on the table, he stood back up and looked down his nose at Yuri. “Make the call.”
***
As soon as Allan Roman got off the phone with Davidovich’s office, he called Dmitry. It was odd to him that his meeting had been pushed up a day, but maybe it was a good sign. Whatever the reason, he was going to make sure he made the meeting.
“What is it?” Dmitry asked answering the phone. He was holding tight to the information he had just been given by Marat.
“Davidovich called back. He wants to meet now. It sounds urgent.” Allan put on his suit jacket and looked at himself in the mirror.
“Good. Go to the meeting,” Dmitry said flatly.
“Are we still asking for a ceasefire from the Ukrainians?”
Dmitry wasn’t sure that it was a good idea anymore. He needed the Russians, but he wasn’t sure if he needed the Ukrainians, simply because someone high up was orchestrating this entire thing. “When you get to his office, text me. I’ll call you right after. I’ll speak with Davidovich myself. We will go from there.”
Allan had learned over the last week not to question Dmitry. Instead, he simply went with the flow. Grabbing his wallet, he shoved it down in his pants pocket and opened his hotel door where two of Dmitry’s guards were waiting on him.
“I’ll text you in just a minute,” he said, closing the door.
Dmitry hung up the phone and laced his fingers together. “I think we need to eliminate some of the chiefs.” Looking to Vasily, he narrowed his gaze. “Who do we have in Kiev that can arrange it?”
“Allan’s detail can do it,” Vasily answered. “I sent our boys from Slovakia. They’re good with wet work.”
“Once I give the order, make it loud,” Dmitry said, reaching into his desk. He thumbed through his files to the one that had been developed on Davidovich.
***
While Royal and the staff packed his clothes, Dmitry kissed on his three children and spent as much time with them as he could. Since Gabriel had been taken, he had been allowed little time to be a father and it bothered him now. The twins were on the bed, taking a nap at the same time, which was unusual and yet a blessing. And Anya had drawn him a painting that she was sitting on his knee detailing. Her long black hair curled behind her, down her back as she traced the paper with her small dainty fingers.
“See, this is the entry to my castle,” she said, looking down at the poster board.
“It’s beautiful, baby,” Dmitry said, kissing her head. “You paint such beautiful pictures.”
“I know,” she said, proudly. “Are you going to put this one up in your office?” she looked up at him, blue eyes blazing with premature authority. It wasn’t so much a request as it was a polite demand.
“I will,” he said, nodding at her.
“Good. I’m working on Ana one now. He doesn’t have any more room in his office for my pictures. I’ve been drawing them for him all week.” Anya finally rested back on her father’s chest as he took the poster in his hand. “Where have you been all week, Papa?”
“I’ve been very busy, sweetie,” he said, looking over at Royal, who paused to wait for his answer.
“Where is Gabriel?” she asked, prying.
“He’s…” He felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. “Just one minute, baby.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone to see Gabriel’s number. Carefully, but quickly, he sat Anya down. “Hello,” he said, answering. Darting out of the room, he motioned for the guard to get Anatoly.
“Is this Dmitry Medlov?” the masked voice asked.
“This is,” Dmitry said, moving as fast as he could toward the stairwell that led to his office. The guards followed behind him, keying up on their radio to get Anatoly and Vasily to the office immediately.
“Stay by your phone,” the voice said. “We’ll be calling you in five minutes from a line you cannot trace.”
***
Five minutes later, Dmitry’s cell phone rang again as promised. Picking up with his men around him in his office, he paused as his tech guy tried to run a trace. “Yes,” Dmitry said, forcefully. He was tired of being led around on a string and the scowl on his face reflected it. Who did these simple-minded pricks think they were?
“We have your nephew,” the voice said. “We want an exchange.”
“By we, I assume you mean the Right for Donetsk,” Dmitry challenged.
“We will give you your nephew in exchange for Valeriya Nenya,” the voice said. “A dead Valeriya Nenya.”
Dmitry didn’t hesitate. “Done. When?”
“Four days,” the voice said. “We will contact you with a location and time for the exchange. We will ask for proof of death before he is delivered. If we don’t receive it, we will put a bullet in the back of his head….or what’s left of it.”
Dmitry felt the heat rising from under his collar. He wasn’t the type of man who took threats lightly. “You know who I am, why is that I don’t know who you are?” he asked, gritting his teeth. “Are you too much of a fucking coward to use your own voice, your own name?”
“There are no cowards here?”
“I beg to differ, Yuri Danko,” Dmitry said, voice smiling. “Hiding behind a masked voice and blocked number won’t save you. I swear on my children’s life; it won’t save any of you.”
Yegor looked up at Yuri from the desk.
Infuriated, Yuri pulled the voice box from the phone so that Dmitry could hear his real voice. They had gone much too far now, what was the point in hiding. “It won’t save your fucking nephew either. If you want him alive, then you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do, and don’t think that meeting with Davidovich is going to make a damn bit of difference, because I’m the one here calling the shots!”
Dmitry looked down at the phone. Checkmate. His voice was calm and flat, void of the emotion that Yuri sought to evoke. “Oh, you are far from calling the shots. What you are is a very small man in a very big world, Danko. When I arrive to get my nephew, dead girl in hand, he better be in one piece. If he’s not, you won’t be for long. And while I can’t kill your family, because someone already beat me to it, I’ll kill everything you stand for, everything around you, everyone around you including your best friend, Yegor. I’ll hit every single fucking camp in Ukraine, and this time I won’t use the discretion of age. I’ll kill everyone you know and everyone you’ve ever known. Oh yes. You still have something to lose, and it will be my pleasure to snatch it from you and burn it before your very eyes.”
Yuri felt for the first time fear, and doubt begin to creep into his ice-cold exterior. “Four days,” he said, hanging up the phone.
Yegor gave an incredulous look. Dmitry Medlov knew who they were, possibly where they were, and more than likely where their families were. “Why did you mention Davidovich?” he asked, pulling off his headphones and throwing them on the table. “Why did you have to fucking antagonize him?”
Yuri’s eyes blazed with fury. “He’s not coming to get his nephew. He’s coming to be killed. Call the others. We need to plan our attack.”
***
Allan decided to leave the armed guards in the car and make the short trek to Davidovich’s office alone. After going through the security checkpoint and sending a quick text to Dmitry, he made his way through the bustling halls to the third floor where he was met by the man’s assistant.
Allan stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Allan Roman. I’m here to see…”
Refusing to shake Allan’s hand, his assistant int
errupted him. “I know who you are here to see. He’s right this way.” Turning on his heels, he led Allan to Viktor’s office and closed the door behind them. “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, standing by the door.
“No,” Allan said, eyeing Viktor. “I imagine that this won’t take long.”
Davidovich was a slender graying man, slightly balding up top. In a well-tailored suit, he sat behind his desk with an air of superiority that rivaled presidents.
“Mr. Roman, good to see you.” He motioned toward the seat in front of his desk without getting up. “Please have a seat.”
Allan did as the man asked, but with great apprehension. Unbuttoning his jacket, he sat in the uncomfortable chair. “Nice office.”
“Thank you. How can I help you? I know that you’ve been…” Viktor took a deep breath. “Trying to contact me.” His eyes were accusatory.
Allan looked down at his phone. A second later it rang. “Do you mind if I get this?”
“Actually, I do,” Viktor said, rolling his eyes. “But if you must.”
Allan answered his phone quickly. “I’m here.”
“Put him on speaker,” Dmitry said, tired of the red tape.
Allan laid the phone on the desk and hit the speaker. “You’re on.”
“Victor Davidovich,” Dmitry said, walking down the main hall toward the door that led to the basement.
“Yes, who’s speaking?” Viktor asked, tilting his head and pushing up to the desk.
“Dmitry Medlov.” Dmitry stopped walking. “I want my nephew back.”
“I’m sorry. Your nephew?” Viktor smiled and looked at Allan. “There must be some misunderstanding.”
“There is no misunderstanding. There is no more to discuss. I want to know if you are going to have your boy, Danko, turn him over.”
Viktor pushed back in his seat. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Who is this Danko?”
Gabriel's Regret: Book Two (The Medlov Men 3) Page 14
