Chapter 14
One Year Later…
The purchase of such an immense amount of property was bound to dredge up all of the media attention in the city, William knew, but for his partner Daniel, he was willing to do anything. Even if it was risky, he knew it was deserved after all Daniel had been through. So, working with teams of attorneys and others who were savvier than he at handling the media, he was able to make the transition nicely. Within a month, he was the proud owner of one city block of newly-zone residential housing. Once an enormous warehouse, after looking at it, he and Daniel had decided it was best kept that way, just remodeled on the inside. During that time, both men also underwent dialect coaching so that they might fit in perfectly, their story being that of two newly-made billionaires who only wanted to live the quiet life.
On their bodies, in inconspicuous places, were the only markers that they were not at all who they seemed. William, on his inner left thigh, had the name “Aleksei” written in Russian. Daniel not only had the name “Yuri” tattooed on his inner left thigh, but on the right was a letter, written in Russian and addressed to someone named Ivan, it read:
“Ivan, if you are reading this letter, then you know that he has found us and succeeded in his mission. I can only hope that you will return favor. Know that Aleksei kept me safe, and he loved me every day as well as he could have. I was not always best person to him, but I tried, and I never hurt him. Not physically, anyway. Thank you for all you have done, sacrifices you have made. My love to my brother, Yuri.”
If it seemed a little strange, the tattoo artist said nothing, not that he spoke Russian, nor did he know exactly what the letter said. Besides, no one would speak of the strange tattoos, especially after the enormous gratuity the tall, slender blonde handed him. He would never see the pair again, but Daniel had gotten the tattoo bug and would soon look like a walking canvas of colorful and sometimes dark or even violent images on his back. Against William’s wishes, though it was, Daniel had an entire set of his own painstakingly done drawings that depicted his life. Though doing so clearly caused him physical and emotional pain, he drew his evolution from what he had been to what he had become and then to what he was currently. William argued it was too risky, that someone might see it and connect the dots, but Daniel only shrugged it off, rubbing his left-hand absently.
William had always wondered about that hand, but Daniel had never wanted to explain it, and as ever William didn’t pressure him for the story. Drawing those tattoos was the first and last time William ever got to see him draw anything. It was a shame because, prior to his ordeal in Russia, Daniel had been an extremely talented artist. After, with the injured left hand, he was unable to draw without extreme discomfort. William could only surmise that these drawings, these tattoo designs, meant so much to him that the pain was worth it. So he dropped it, and Daniel got the tattoos.
“Let him come, if he wants to. I’ll be ready for him.” Daniel had said, and he meant it, because soon after the warehouse was renovated, he enlisted some of the best martial arts trainers in the business to hone his already considerable skills.
William, for his part, took a job at the local hospital, working the hours nobody wanted and dealing with the worst of the worst. This was, he decided, his own way of dealing with what he knew would come inevitably, and he threw himself into his work.
So it was, deep in the hard upper Midwest American winter, that they were discovered. Daniel was ‘holding court’ as William liked to call it, several of his friends, including Daniel’s girlfriend, were all watching horror flicks in the downstairs den. Snow and sleet alternately pounded at the large glass windows high above them and the wind was moaning around the old building. Inside, however, it was warm and the atmosphere cozy, as the group of twenty-something year old Goths basically snuggled together on the enormous couch and thick-carpeted floor. The woman Daniel had been dating slipped from his arms, though he seemed reluctant to let her go, his arms and hands staying on her until she had crawled over the back of the sofa.
“Bathroom.” She whispered, and he nodded, then turned back to the movie.
The peace was short lived, however, when she shrieked and came flying back into the room, paler than usual, her green eyes wide with fear. She pointed her finger, mouthing wordlessly in her panic, gesturing to the kitchen. Immediately, Daniel was on his feet, casually telling the others to relax, she’d probably seen a spider. It amused him, a tough young woman like her being afraid of spiders like she was, but then he had a fear of things that were irrational to everyone but him. So who was he to judge? When he saw the enormous shape of a man standing in the kitchen, he sagged back hard against the wall.
“Go ahead to the bathroom,” he whispered to the young woman, who was cowering behind him. “I’ll handle this…just keep everyone in the den for now.” He walked boldly into the darkened kitchen and closed the door, then flicked on the light
“I am sorry…I was looking for my brothers. I think I have wrong house.” The giant blonde said, staring down at this strange looking young man. His hair was black, cut in a strange way, and he was marked with more tattoos than Ivan had ever seen on anyone outside of a prison. His eyes were the color of amber and he had three metal spikes sticking out of his bottom lip along with at least five earrings in each ear. Not to mention the fact that he was wearing black eyeliner.
“What if I could show you something that would prove you wrong?” the young man asked and the blonde’s brow furrowed, then he snorted.
“I doubt that. Men I am looking for would not fit in here.” He said, then motioned to the door. “That is your girlfriend, da?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“That cancels all out immediately, men I am looking for are gay.” He looked a little uncomfortable saying this as it made it sound as if he were gay, too, so he repeated hastily, “They are my brothers.”
The young man began pulling off his clothes, well, his layers of shirts anyway, as the blonde watched uncomfortably. “Look. The tattoos on my back. Look and you will understand.”
“My God…Yuri…what has happened to you? Where is Aleksei? I am going to kick his ass.” Ivan swelled in anger, but Yuri shook his head.
“My name is Daniel now. Yuri Korzhakov died in a car accident exactly one year ago today in Paris. Did you not hear? Aleksei Kruchev also died in the same accident.” He gave Ivan an exaggerated wink, then added, “He goes by William now and he is upstairs in one of his many rooms, reading or sleeping, hard to say.”
“And Rosa?” Ivan asked, looking hopeful, not that he wasn’t glad to see his brothers, but he’d been wanting to see the Spanish woman again, too.
“No. She stayed in Spain, but she did want us to contact her if you ever turned up.” He fished in his pocket for his wallet, then fetched out a small slip of paper with an international phone number written in Rosa’s own hand. After pulling his layers of shirts back on, he smiled up and then embraced his brother. “I know it’s been too damn long when you actually look tall to me. When I saw you every day I’d kinda got used to it, you know?”
“But Yu…Daniel…you have girlfriend? How?” Ivan asked, looking almost at a loss for words.
“It seems I like it both ways. Best of both worlds, I suppose. Crystal keeps me warm at night when William is working. When she is working during the day, William keeps me warm.” He shrugged, then fetched a bottle of vodka kept always chilled in the back of the fridge for just this occasion. “Winter wheat, illegally imported. Just like us.”
Ivan smiled and took the bottle almost hungrily. “That is definitely welcome sight. What about your friends…will they talk?”
“No, they’re completely trustworthy. As for William, as luck would have it, he took tonight off. The anniversary of our deaths and all. So, I’ll take you to his rooms, if you want to see him.” Daniel led him right through the den area and, even if the other young men and women there stared a bit, none of them questioned his presence. They got a l
ook at him and then went back to watching the movie, which was in the middle of another gruesome murder scene. The warehouse-made-home suited Ivan with its high ceilings and open floor plan. He made a mental note to call Rosa as soon as he was settled in and had a new identification. Then it occurred to him, what would he call himself? He’d have to choose a new name. What indeed?
Chapter 15
“Nyet, you are attorney. Tell them they have wrong man. Tell them that big blonde fuck is murderer, not me!” Dmitri slammed his fist on the table in frustration and the solicitor assigned his case recoiled slightly, though his eyes were on the interpreter to tell him what had been said. “Why do you not want to listen to what I am trying to tell you? I did nothing wrong. They opened door and let me in apartment and then attacked me. I do not see how that is so hard to fucking understand.”
“Well,” the interpreter then translated, “problem with your story is Mr. Sergeivich’s story worked out to be more truthful. He had necessary papers, he had passport, and company he works for is apparently legit. Where-as you on other hand were…and are…in country illegally. No papers, no job, no explanation that makes sense as to why you are here.”
“Bullshit. That company is front set up by our uncle, man who is head crime lord over all of Russia. He has resources and money like you cannot even imagine and he loves Ivan like second son.” Dmitri said, fast reaching the pulling-out-hair stage and not entirely sure he cared whose hair he pulled out, as long as he got results.
“Hang on,” the interpreter said, for the solicitor, “Are you telling me that man was your brother?”
“Da that is what I have been trying to tell everyone all along. Man with black hair on security tape is my full-brother and skinny blonde is Ivan’s half-brother Aleksei Kruchev.” Dmitri ran a frustrated hand over his eye.
“Even if,” the solicitor said, via the interpreter, “Even if we can get DNA proving that, it does not change other evidence, and Mr. Sergeivich provided us with tons of it.”
“Then, what you are telling me is…I am fucked.” Dmitri said, and while the solicitor did not answer, the interpreter did.
“Basically, da.”
Things had only gone from bad to worse when he’d appeared in court. Belligerent and angry, he had been found in contempt and given an additional thirty days in prison added to his stiff one year sentence for destruction of government property. After that, the judge informed him again via interpreter, he would be immediately deported to Russia. If he were to be caught in the country again illegally, he would be looking at five to ten years, minimum. When he glanced over his shoulder his mood only blackened that much more. Ivan was sitting in the back row of the public gallery, smirking at him. Dmitri attempted to charge him but was brought down easily as he was already shackled. Hence, the contempt charge.
Now, as he rode in the armored transport to Dover, England, home of the only maximum security Immigration Removal Centre for criminal offenders in the country illegally, he stared out at the bleak landscape. He understood their need to make an example, but inside it still galled him that Ivan had once more gotten the best of him. He almost began to wonder if his determination to kill Yuri was wrong, but then let the thought go; how could it be so wrong, wanting his brother dead, when it felt so right? He longed for a woman to keep him company in the next few months, the solicitor had said he’d probably be paroled and sent back to Russia long before his term expired. So long as he held his temper in check and was a model inmate.
Inmate. Never in his life had he imagined he would hold such a title, but a glance down at his drab gray prison coverall with an identification number printed on the upper left of the chest, he knew it was all too real. He shifted slightly, rearranging his seat on the uncomfortably hard metal bench and his shackles clanked, making the guard look at him sternly. So, he remained almost completely unmoving the remainder of the long drive, his eyes on the filthy floor and his bare feet, on which he wore disgusting looking gray plastic slip on shower-shoes. At least in Russia the inmates were provided the appropriate measures to keep themselves warm in winter. He snorted, but inwardly, not daring to arouse the suspicions of the guards as to what he was thinking about.
One week after he arrived in Dover, he received an anonymous communication, he expected it had been sent by Ivan to torment him. A newspaper clipping, a car accident. He had to painstakingly slowly use the ancient inmate’s computer in the library, there was no internet access, to decipher the English language. Finally, he discovered that both the fag and its fag lover had been killed in a car crash in Paris. Furious, he ripped the clipping to shreds. How was he supposed to kill what had tormented him for so long when the source of it all was already dead? It was that very same night the nightmares returned, and he began a spiral into an even darker place than he had already been.
Chapter 16
Ivan followed Daniel up the large, wrought-iron staircase at the back of the large warehouse, winding up three floors until they stopped at a door and Daniel knocked. When the lock clicked, he stepped inside followed by Ivan and Aleksei promptly dropped the book he’d been reading, in shock, then beamed up at his younger, but much larger, brother. “Ivan!”
“I’ll leave you two to catch up…I have guests.” Daniel bowed out graciously and descended to the open living area once more. Ivan closed the door softly and then took a seat in the chair opposite Aleksei, or rather, William. He would have to remind himself constantly about those names, so that he did not inadvertently blow their cover. Not that he’d be doing much talking to anyone on the street, but one never knew who they could trust.
“What in hell has happened to him?” Ivan asked, motioning towards the door and the direction Daniel had gone. “He…I did not even recognize him! He had to show me his tattoos…on his back. That was really stupid idea…even if his face cannot be identified…”
All through this short rant William was watching him with interest, a slight smile on his lips. When Ivan had exhausted his complaints, he spoke in his soft, easy manner. “He’s alive and safe, and what’s more, he’s made real honest-to-goodness friends. People he can depend on if something were to happen to me…or you.” Ivan took a drink of the winter wheat vodka and grunted appreciatively, bringing another smile to William’s face. “I assume you saw his girlfriend?”
“Da, I was going to ask. How did he figure out…?” Ivan lowered the bottle and listened intently.
“He met her among the club culture, the ‘Goths’ as they call themselves. At first, I don’t think he recognized that he was attracted to her. When he did, he started asking her over nights when I was working.” William shrugged, then poured himself another glass of wine from the bottle sitting by him on the table. “I knew he got lonely at night, so I was okay with it, and I still am. I love him, Ivan. I would sacrifice my beating heart for him. And now it’s time for you to answer a question or two. Starting with: If you’re here, then he must be out, am I correct in that assumption?”
“Da, he was released and deported about one week ago. I have been monitoring him both on inside of Immigrant prison and outside. They had promised him early release if he could behave and be model inmate, I never understood that concept, but he could not. He has started to decline into something darker than I ever knew. When I saw him…I was shocked. He has lost so much weight and his hair…his hair has started to go gray. Also, he was not wearing his eye-patch anymore, though I do not know if that is permanent.”
“So you think he still means to hunt us down?” William asked, he sipped his wine and Ivan noticed his hand was trembling.
“Nyet, I do not. My contact inside said that he received newspaper clipping reporting ‘their’ deaths in car accident. Very convincing, you should know, for time I believed it myself, to be honest.” Ivan shrugged. “Apparently whatever it is that is eating Dmitri…now it cannot be stopped because he did not succeed in his single mission in life.”
“How did you find out we were still alive?” William s
et the wine glass aside now and straightened in his seat. “No one knows where we are…not even Rosa, though she does know we are still alive.”
“Uncle Oleg told me in strict confidence when I was dining with him at his brothel one evening. Not so much that you were alive, but that someone was accessing my accounts…same accounts your money funneled into upon your deaths. He was quite intrigued, Oleg, but I assured him I was aware of activity.” Ivan said, then turned up the bottle and finished it, then looked at the empty bottle mournfully. “Ah, sweet taste of home. Shame you do not have more.”
“Who says we don’t?” William smiled at him mischievously. “We have whole wine cellar in sub-basement. It stays nice and cool down there, but tonight I want you to stay sober.”
“I would like to spend more time with Daniel but he has guests. When will they be leaving?” Ivan asked, standing and looking out at the thick, fast falling snow.
“They won’t leave tonight, it’s his turn to host. Tomorrow night they’ll all crash at someone else’s place, but Daniel always stays here. He…has Crystal to keep him warm.” He saw a wicked light in Ivan’s eye and looked at him, puzzled. “What?”
“What do they do down there, have orgy or something?” Ivan asked, looking more interested now that the vodka was doing its work.
“No, nothing like that, though they will all sleep close to each other. Only the couple whose house they are staying at for the night will not be joining the pile, as they call it.” William smiled. “I must admit I was a bit disappointed, I had hoped to have this evening with Daniel, seeing as it’s our unofficial anniversary-slash-birthday.”
A soft knock startled them both and Ivan looked up as Daniel came in, leading Crystal. “This is my brother, Crystal. He didn’t mean to startle you, his name is…Kirill.”
A Life Less Ordinary Page 7
