by Stacy Gail
“Everything will become clear as we go, Mr. Moretti. Now please, have a seat while I continue to get things ready.”
It was just as well the Scorpeone contingency at last headed to the table, as movement outside the conference room caught Polo’s attention. Yuri and Alexei Rodin, his closest associates, made a beeline for the door, closely followed by Indigo Ruiz and Andrew the Giant. Andrew took up position opposite Havlik and Echo outside the conference room, clearly taking the post of guard while Yuri, Alex and Indigo continued through the conference room’s glass door. Indigo nodded at him, a smallish Hispanic young man who had an uncanny knack for gathering the city’s most pertinent information, before he stood off to one side with Alex. Yuri alone made his way to Polo and Dash, his hard-shell attaché case—an item that had been cool when leisure suits were a thing—clutched in one hand.
“We’re ready,” Yuri rumbled, his Russian accent deeper than usual. Despite his advanced age, Yuri was still a bear of a man with a barrel chest and thick arms. His side-parted hair had once been as blonde as his son’s, Alex, but was now pure white. Alex, Polo’s best friend and business manager, had a more elegant build than his father, and could easily have pulled off wearing a tuxedo to a gas station. But he was just as lethal as Yuri when push came to shove, and he was the one man Polo would want to have at his back when it came to a fight. “Is everything ready to go here?”
Polo nodded. “We’re just waiting on Pavel.”
“Then your wait is over. He and his sons were just pulling into the parking garage as we were coming in.”
He heard Dash’s small intake of breath. “His sons? How many?”
“All of them, I believe.” With a nod, Yuri headed for the table and took a seat opposite the Scorpeones.
“Great,” she muttered, looking stressed. “Just what we need, all the leg-breakers of the Medvedev clan, in the same room with the Scorpeones. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Too late for second thoughts now.” He brushed her lips with his, before heading out to do a dead-man meet-and-greet with Pavel Medvedev.
Chapter Nineteen
I must’ve been out of my mind, orchestrating this circular firing-squad of a meeting.
With my poker face on-point and wishing to be anywhere but in a room filled with people whose combined body count rivaled that of a small army, I stood at the head of the table. Pavel and his oldest son Vasili—or Vas to his friends—were seated to my left, then Yuri and his son, Alex, and Cap Fogelmann and Luke Keyes on the far end.
On the right side of the table was the Scorpeone contingent, consisting of Matteo and Emily, Angelina and her husband Fabian Moretti, and two of their “advisers,” including Emily’s bodyguard Bruno, but Polo knew him as the notorious mob hitman, BB.
Apparently that was short for “Bloodbath.”
Needless to say, my expectations weren’t high.
“I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” I couldn’t resist saying. Directly across from me at the other end of the table, Polo grinned, and I could have sworn the cough that came from Rudy behind me was in fact a feeble cover for a laugh. “There’s only one reason that would bring all of us together—war. Long story short, someone is trying to start one between the Scorpeones and the Vitalievs.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible, since the Scorpeones are no longer in the business.” It was Matteo who spoke, and I was surprised at the power that rang behind his words. Compared to the edgy danger that cloaked Polo like a physical thing, Matteo had barely shown up on my radar. Now, however, as the leader of his group, I could see the family resemblance. “Have your people check me and my people out, I have nothing to hide. I haven’t even held a gun in a decade.”
“We have checked you out, more thoroughly than you can imagine.” With his tone almost professional, Polo kept his face admirably blank as he regarded his older brother. Considering how much hostility he still carried, I clenched my hands together to keep from applauding his effort. “You’re right. You’re living a clean life, and so are your people. But this not holding a gun business…yeah, that shit’s not going to fly.”
Matteo scowled. “Are you calling me a liar, Polo?”
“No, I’m calling you a fool for letting yourself get so complacent and rusty when you know you can’t just leave the life without at least some of that shit following you.”
The way Matteo Scorpeone’s jaw dropped was comical enough to make Luke Keyes snort. “So…wait. You’re busting my chops for not carrying? Are you serious?”
“You have four kids under the age of ten, and you’re walking around like a happy-go-lucky civilian. If you’re wanting to deprive those kids of the father they love, you’re going about it the right way.”
“The safety of my family is no concern of yours. I’ve been out of the business all this time without a problem, so I think it’s obvious I know the situation a hell of a lot better than you.”
“Someone’s put a hit out on Dasha Vitaliev, and the moment she dies it’s going to be pinned on you, asshole. You think you and yours are safe?” Polo made a disdainful noise while the rest of the room went quiet. “You and your kids haven’t been safe for months and you, you dumbass, didn’t even know it.”
Matteo snarled. “Goddamn it—”
“A hit?” Pavel Medvedev, the patriarch of the Medvedevs—the leg-breaking “enforcer” faction of the Vitaliev Bratva—straightened in his chair, looking fierce. “Who, Polo? Who would dare to put a hit on the beloved daughter of Borysko Vitaliev and most cherished friend of the Medvedevs?”
“It’s not the Scorpeones, my brother, though time and again our attention has been drawn deliberately their way.” Pavel’s long-time friend and associate, Yuri opened his case and took out a stack of files. “First, allow me to introduce myself to those who don’t know me,” he added with a meaningful glance at the people across the table from him. “I am Yuri Rodin, Borysko Vitaliev’s very old and happily retired lieutenant. I once specialized in the gathering of sensitive information.”
“He’s not as retired as you might think,” Indigo decided to share from his place behind Yuri, then clamped his mouth shut when Polo slanted him a look.
Yuri sighed before offering a shrug. “This could be true, since I now just as happily gather sensitive information for my great friend and employer, Polo Scorpeone. This is important for everyone to know, because the information I’ve gathered now must be believed by everyone here. I am not an amateur when it comes to chasing down intelligence—especially the kind that no one wishes for me to chase down.”
“So basically, you’re the KGB,” Bruno said from his end of the table.
“Don’t be insulting, BB.” Yuri didn’t bother glancing up from sorting his files. “The KGB, now FSB, can only wish they were as good as me. Now, as far as I can tell, this conspiracy to create war between the Scorpeones and the Vitalievs started approximately one year ago, shortly after Borysko’s death,” he went on, and handed his son the stack of files. In silence, Alex took one and passed it along to Cap, who did the same. “This was the time in which Polo was freed from the Vitaliev Bratva, after he’d assisted Knives Vitaliev in stabilizing his position as the new head of the organization.”
Fabian Moretti let loose a juicy snort. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it. I heard the great and terrible Scorpio put more people in their graves than Mussolini during that time.”
“Then talking about me with such disrespect, right in front of me, must mean you’ve got balls the size of grapefruit.” Polo sent Moretti his most maniacal smile. “Congratulations on that.”
Fabian Moretti looked like he’d swallowed a bug. “You want a piece of me, Scorpio, just say the word.”
This was going to go south in a hurry if I wasn’t careful. “Mr. Moretti, of all the people at this table, you’re the one who needs to stay focused the most, so let’s not have any distractions, all right?”
Angelina�
��s back went ramrod straight. “Why do you say that? My husband certainly didn’t put a hit out on you. He doesn’t even know you, except as a former patron of his poker games.”
“That’s where this whole thing began, at least for us.” Polo nodded at the folders everyone now had. “Open up your folder and take a good, long look at the picture of the man on the first page. Smallish guy, effeminate manner. Goes by the name of Ollie. Do you remember hiring him, Moretti?”
Fabian Moretti blinked a couple times. “Hiring him? What the hell—”
“Just open the file, Mr. Moretti.” Across from him, Yuri folded his hands, his expression placid. He had the look of a man who had the patience to wait for the mountains to turn to dust. “Perhaps the photos I’ve obtained of the man in question will assist your memory.” As files were flipped open around the table, Yuri motioned for Indigo to join him. “As you peruse the information provided for you, allow me to introduce Indigo Ruiz, a remarkable young man who despite his youth, has an uncanny knowledge of the people who keep Chicago’s hidden heart running. Indigo, if you please.”
“The man in the photo goes by a number of names—Ollie Newell, Ollie Newman and Oliver New. His real name is Oliver Neubauer, and he first showed up on radar as a street hustler on the city’s West Side for a pimp who ran both men and women. Then that pimp wound up dead in a seriously crazy-shit manner, and suddenly Neubauer was in charge of that pimp’s stable.”
Cap Fogelmann glanced up from his thoughtful review of his folder. “Crazy-shit how?”
Indigo glanced at Yuri, who nodded. “The pimp was found floating face-down by some kids in the Garfield Park community swimming pool. His face had been mutilated and his genitals cut off.”
Pavel jerked in his seat, a reaction that didn’t surprise me. His youngest son and my best friend, Konstantin, had been killed the same way.
“Six months after that takeover, Neubauer’s stable was absorbed peacefully into the Vitaliev organization, now headed by Knives Vitaliev. The next time Neubauer shows up, it’s at an illegal poker game run by you, Mr. Moretti, employed as a bottle server but reporting regularly to the head of the Vitaliev Bratva.”
“Bullshit,” Fabian announced, glaring pure death at Indigo while his face turned an ugly puce. “The only bottle servers I ever had going during those floating games were bitches, ask anyone. Nobody has guy bottle servers when it comes to poker games. You know why? Because apart from Ms. Vitaliev and one or two others, all my patrons had dicks.”
“But not all of your patrons preferred to have bitches pour their drinks. Some of them preferred guys like Ollie.”
“Again I say bullshit.”
“Fine, be a dick and don’t listen to the truth,” With his voice tight with clearly strained patience, Polo looked to Rudy and lifted his chin. “Let’s bring him in so we can tie this loose end up once and for all.”
“Right.” Behind me, Rudy made a quick exit.
“What is this about, exactly?” Matteo frowned, thumbing through the pages of his file. “Why are we so focused on one of Fabian’s bottle servers?”
“This fuckin’ fairy wasn’t one of mine, for fuck’s sake!” Spittle flew out of Fabian’s mouth as he pounded the table. “I’d never hire some fruity little ass pixie!”
“Watch your goddamn mouth.” To my surprise, the dangerous growl came from Vasili Medvedev. As far as I knew, Vas had never approved of Konstantin’s homosexuality and had bullied his little brother with a relentlessness that could have earned him the label of domestic terrorist. He was the last person I expected to speak up. “The term is gay or homosexual. You use any bigoted terms in my presence again, and I’ll cut your tongue out.”
Fabian rolled his chair back. “You sonofa—”
Luke Keyes was up and around the table to force Fabian back into his seat even as he tried to get up. At the same time, all the Medvedevs standing at the glass wall behind their father were suddenly looming behind their brother in a terrifying show of deadly solidarity.
“Enough.” Polo’s voice rang out like a physical wave, and it was so strong it punched the wind out of everyone’s sails. With a gesture, he pushed the Medvedevs back to where they were before nodding to Luke, who let Fabian go and returned to his seat. “We are going to get through this without any fucking drama from here on in, you get me? Whether you know it or not, we’re all on the same side here, and that’s the side of trying to live clean and free of all the shit that went on in the past. So stop with the pissing contests already, sit there quietly and get fucking educated on what’s going on around you so that we can all make informed decisions about what needs to be done.”
Fabian was still an alarming shade of purple. “You don’t tell me what to do, Scorpio.”
“Shut the fuck up, Fabian.” Matteo sent his brother-in-law a hard stare before nodding to Polo. “We’re going to keep our shit together and wait on you to start connecting the dots.”
“You won’t have to wait long.” The door opened once more, and I glanced back as Rudy and another PSI man with wicked scars on one half of his handsome face escorted a smaller, wiry man into the room. Intense distaste rose up like bile as I watched Detective Martin Schott come to a stop near me at the head of the table, and it was only through an exercise of will that I didn’t knock his block off like he deserved.
On the right side of the table, Angelina shifted. “Holy shit.”
“This is Martin Schott,” Polo said from his end of the table. “Up until a couple of months ago he was a detective with the Chicago Police, but recently he decided to take early retirement. A good decision on his part, since doing his job the way he chose to do it proved to be supremely bad for his health.”
“Yeah, you should know that better than anyone, Scorpio,” Schott muttered darkly, glaring daggers at Polo, who shrugged modestly.
“Like I told you when we had our little discussion a couple months ago, Marty—dirty cops like you get no sympathy from me. How’re those new teeth working out for you, by the way? Swelling’s pretty much gone now, yeah? They look good. An improvement, even.”
“Fuck you, Scorpio.”
Unfazed, Polo glanced at the Scorpeones. “As I’m sure you’ve already figured out, two months ago I had a chat with the former detective while looking into the harassment he was putting Dasha Vitaliev through. During that discussion, Marty was kind enough to share that as a vice cop, he was once in the Scorpeone pocket.”
“Hold it right there.” Matteo held up a hand in very much the same manner Polo had done to him earlier. “I’ve never seen this piece of shit before in my life, and I sure as hell never had him on the payroll. I don’t fucking need to have a cop on the payroll. I live clean.”
“There’s more than one Scorpeone representative around here.” Polo looked to Fabian. “Over to you, slick.”
Fabian Moretti’s mustache twitched. “Yeah, okay. We paid Schott to look the other way whenever we had our floating poker game going on. But he obviously stabbed us in the back last spring when he busted up my games and shut us down.”
“I can’t believe I have to point this out to you, but Detective Martin Schott stabbed you in the back long before then, Mr. Moretti,” Yuri said, and the way he regarded the man sitting across from him made it clear that Yuri believed there might be some rocks out there in the world that were smarter than Fabian Moretti. “Martin Schott may have been on your payroll, but he hasn’t been your man for almost a year. After all, it was Schott who encouraged you to hire Oliver Neubauer.”
“I told you, I didn’t hire that—”
“Yeah, you did. And yeah, it was Schott that recommended this Oliver guy.” Angelina’s voice cut through her husband’s bluster, and she looked like every word made her want to choke. “You were away last year on that so-called mandatory trip to Nevada, remember? You dumped the business in my lap, because there was an upcoming game on the schedule that you hadn’t fully staffed, mainly because you’re a lazy sonofabitch.”
&
nbsp; Fabian’s head was going to burst if it got any redder. “What did you just say to—”
“You left things undone, Fabian, and you know it. When Martin Schott ran into me at the gym saying he had a guy who fit the description of a special type of employee you wanted for your bottle service, I thought you’d arranged the meet. I figured you were broadening your reach for clientele, so I hired him.”
The way Fabian looked at Angelina, I almost feared for her life. “Jesus, just like that? A guy walks up to you outta fucking nowhere, and you hire this stranger just like that?”
I had to admit, I was in Fabian’s corner on this one.
“Look,” Angelina said, pointing a sharply manicured finger at her husband, “you told me you owned this guy Schott like a damn dog on a leash. I believed you. How was I supposed to know you couldn’t handle even that without fucking it up?”
“Oh, Lord,” Emily muttered, putting a hand over her eyes.
“We’re not getting into who fucked up where,” Polo announced over the storm brewing between the married couple. “What matters is that we have corroboration that Oliver Neubauer, a.k.a. Ollie, was planted with your floating poker game about a year ago. Thanks to Yuri’s thorough security checks on all of my potential employees, we also have confirmation that Ollie tried—and failed—to infiltrate a nightclub I was opening on the river called River Styx. Angelina, look at the photos of Ollie in the file. Is that the guy Schott arranged for you to hire as a bottle server?”
Tight-lipped, Angelina looked at the file, then away. “That’s him.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Again Polo looked toward the former detective, all smiles. “Now then, Marty. Care to share with the rest of the class who’s really got you in their pocket?”
Martin Schott’s nervous glance bounced from Polo to Cap Fogelmann. “Before I do, I want to make sure I got this straight. Are you guys gonna help me build another life away from here and keep me safe the way you did with Polo Scorpeone when he faked his death?”
