Commit To Violence

by Glenn, Roy

  Nick looked at Bobby and knew that he was right. "I’m gonna have to kill her," Nick said without emotion, but the idea of having to kill Rain was tearing him up inside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Since they arrived at the apartment of Ivillisa Ortiz looking for Bobby and finding Lex dead, Black and Victor had been in the street. They had gone by Impressions and were told by Tara that Bobby was there, but he left after getting a call from Nick. But when Black told Tara to call Nick, she got no answer.

  They were about to leave the club when Tara came rushing to the front door to stop them.

  "Black! Wait a minute," Tara yelled.

  "What’s up?"

  "You got a call in the office," she said, trying to catch her breath.

  "Who is it?" Black asked as they returned to the office.

  "It’s Angelo Collette."

  When Black got to the office and picked up the phone, Angelo, to his surprise, was still holding.

  "What’s up, Angee?"

  "For Christ’s sake, Mikey, you need to get a fuckin’ phone. At least while Kevon was around somebody could get in touch with you, but now that he’s dead, you know how many places I had to call to get you?"

  "Sorry, Angee. You know I don’t like being all that accessible."

  "And believe me I understand why you feel that way. I mean, there are times when I wanna throw this fuckin’ thing out the fuckin’ window."

  "Then why don’t you? Not havin’ one works just fine with me. One less place a mutha fucka can listen to you."

  "You got a point."

  "What you got for me?"

  "You feel like ridin’ out to Brooklyn?"

  "Not really."

  "Well, if you wanna talk to Oleg tonight you’ll be at his uncle’s restaurant in Brighton Beach at midnight."

  "Good look."

  "He’ll be there waiting for you."

  "Thanks, Angee. Save that bottle of Rémy for me. I’ll get with you in a couple of days."

  "You do that."

  It was just after midnight when Black and Victor pulled up in front of a restaurant on Neptune Avenue in the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn. The place was closed when they arrived. Victor knocked on the door.

  "Yes," the large man said when he opened the door.

  "Mike Black to see Oleg Mushnikov," Victor said.

  The KGB targeted Oleg for recruitment even before he graduated. He spent seventeen years as a mid-level agent in the KGB’s foreign intelligence wing, rising to the rank of lieutenant colonel. After a few years spying on foreigners in Leningrad, he attended the elite foreign intelligence training institute, and then was assigned to work with East Germany intelligence, the Stasi, and the raw intelligence was sent directly to Moscow.

  The downfall of communism left an economic, moral and social vacuum. Oleg began to fill the gap, supplying luxury items, jeans, cigarettes, vodka, chewing gum and stereo equipment to those who could afford them. Then he got involved with members of Izmaylovskaya that were running prostitution and gambling rings in Sri Lanka and scheming with the Colombian drug cartel. Once they tried to sell their newfound Colombian friends a Soviet-era submarine.

  The man stepped to one side and allowed them to enter. Black saw Oleg sitting alone at a table near the back of the restaurant. Oleg waved for him to come back. Black handed both of his guns to the man who opened the door and made his way to the table. Victor surrendered his weapon and took a seat at the bar.

  Oleg stood up to greet him. "Mikhail," Oleg said, calling Black by the Russian name for Michael.

  "How’s it goin’, Oleg?" Black said, and the two men shook hands. "I know that you are a busy man. Thank you for agreeing to see me."

  "Please sit," Oleg urged. "You know, when Mr. Angelo Collette calls and says Mr. Mikhail Black wants to talk to me, I say, oh no, I have no Rémy Martin for him to drink." Oleg pointed at his man, and he brought a bottle of Rémy and placed it on the table in front of Black, along with two glasses. "I sent someone to find a bottle so we can drink together."

  "Thank you, Oleg. This means a lot," Black said and reached for the bottle. He poured a drink for himself and Oleg.

  Both men shot their drinks and Black poured another. "I tell you something else. When Mr. Angelo Collette calls and says to me Mr. Mikhail Black wants to talk to me, I say to myself, what is the reason for this? I have my suspicions about a reason, but still, I wonder. I have shared a bottle with you many times, but never has Mr. Mikhail Black wanted to talk. Drink yes, talk no. So, I am wondering, what it is that brings you to me?"

  "Are you familiar with a woman named Jada West?"

  "Yes," Oleg said slowly and curiously. "I am familiar with Jada West." Oleg picked up his glass and pointed at Black. "You surprise me my friend. This was not what I was thinking you wanted to talk about. Now tell me, what business is this of yours?"

  "Ms. West tells me that you’ve shown an interest in her business."

  Oleg sat back in his chair and smiled. "This woman, this madam, this Jada West, she belong to you?"

  "No, Oleg, Ms. West is a personal friend. I have no interest in her business."

  "Now I am wondering, why are you here?"

  "I came to ask you as a favor to me, to forget about Ms. West and her business."

  Oleg laughed when he heard that. Then he reached for the bottle and poured them both a drink. Oleg held up his glass and Black followed suit before both men shot their drinks. "You, me, Mr. Angelo Collette, we have done this many times before, but this is the first time you have ever asked me for anything other than to pass the bottle. I do not know whether I should be honored or insulted that you ask me this now."

  "That was a mistake on my part. Please believe me, I meant you no insult. We should have had a conversation about business long before now."

  "I wish that we had too. But your business is gambling. Mr. Angelo Collette, his business is extortion and narcotics. Me, I am just a poor Russian trying to earn a living in your wonderful country. Now you come to me and say Oleg, you cannot earn a living because Jada West is a friend."

  Black put down his glass. "Oleg, listen to me. If you were willing to forget about Ms. West and her business, I think there are some things that you and I can work on that in the long run, would be much profitable for you and your associates, should you choose to involve them."

  "What did you have in mind?" Oleg asked, seemingly intrigued by what Black was telling him. Oleg was always looking for ways to make money, which was how Jada West came to his attention.

  "My partners and I are looking to make some investments in Russia," Black said. "In order to make that happen, we need a presence in Russia; a Russian presence. In exchange for your consideration about Ms. West, I would talk to my associates about taking you on as a partner."

  "What type of businesses we talking about?"

  Black thought back to the last meeting he had with Meka Brazil and tried to remember what she said about foreign investment in Russia. "There’s a company that makes multimedia switching gear for cable companies that just got certification for its product line in Russia. Communications infrastructure investment could represent a significant opportunity," Black said, trying to repeat what Meka said, but Oleg didn’t seem impressed. "Then there’s wind."

  "Wind?"

  "Are you familiar with The Kola Peninsula in the Murmansk region?

  "Yes, it’s located in the northwestern part of Russia. It borders Finland and Norway. The Peninsula faces the Barents Sea in the north and the White Sea in the south," Oleg said proudly.

  "Did you know that area of Russia has the greatest capacity for wind power in the world?"

  "I did not know that. I know that another oil and gas field had been found under the seabed of the Barents Sea. The Shtockmonovskoye gas field is considered to be the largest offshore deposit of natural gas in the world."

  "Really? That might be something that my group should look into. But this wind thing is the future, Oleg. The problem i
s that a lot of the area available for wind power in Russia is far from major cities. But right now there are settlements, fishing villages, border stations and shit like that, that are far from the electrical grid."

  "Most of them are powered mainly by diesel generator sets."

  "Right. So wind power will make a substantial contribution to the power supply in these areas. And as the business capability and construction of new transmission lines moves forward, we can begin servicing some of the major cities."

  "You sound just like a businessman, my friend."

  "Too much, Oleg," Black said and wondered if he was a legitimate businessman playing gangster or a gangster playing legitimate businessman. "What do you think, Oleg? You ready to make some real money? ’Cause I’m sure that this will be far more lucrative for you than Ms. West’s little pussy business."

  "Yes, yes, I can see where that would be much more lucrative—long term of course."

  "Of course."

  Oleg held out his hand. "I think we have an understanding."

  "I’m glad to hear that," Black said and shook Oleg’s hand. All he had to do now was convince Martin Marshall and his Chinese partners that involving Oleg and the Izmaylovskaya mob was a good idea.

  Oleg poured another round of drinks. "Come. We drink to our new partnership. To you, Mikhail."

  "And to you, Oleg, but tell me something."

  "What is that?"

  "You said when Angelo called you that you had your suspicions about the reason I wanted to talk to you. What did you mean by that?"

  "I have heard from some associates that you have big problems. That is what I thought you wanted to talk to me about."

  "What kind of problems are we talking about?"

  "Come," Oleg said and stood up. "We continue this conversation outside."

  Black stood up and so did Victor.

  "No," Oleg said. "We talk alone," Oleg said and Black followed him out the back door. The two men walked down the alley and out into the street before Oleg spoke. "One of your men was killed recently."

  "Yes," Black said and looked at Oleg curiously. "But now I’m wondering why you would think I would want to talk to you about that. Unless you’re tellin’ me that you or your associates had something to do with it."

  "No, no, I assure you that we had nothing to do with your man’s death, but as I said, I do hear things."

  "What kind of things?"

  Oleg took out a pack of cigarettes and offered Black one. When he refused, Oleg lit up and continued. "Are you familiar with a man named Cruz Villanueva?"

  "Yes, Oleg. I’m very familiar with Mr. Villanueva."

  "I hear that he is planning to make a move uptown?"

  "I heard that, too."

  "There are things going on in your organization, Mikhail. And it is more than just your man getting killed and Cruz planning to move uptown, although they are connected."

  "Are you telling me that Cruz had him killed?"

  "This I do not know. But what I can tell you, Mikhail, is that someone in your organization is doing business with my associates without your knowledge."

  "Bo."

  "I do not know what his name is, Mikhail," Oleg said and stopped walking. He turned to Black and put his hand on his shoulders. "I can only tell you that this man, he talks a lot about the way things will be once you are gone and he is in charge."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Black walked back to the restaurant with Oleg and thanked him for the information. "Where’s Bo?" he asked Victor as soon as they were back in the car. Once Black explained to Victor what Oleg had told him, Victor called Sabrina. As was their custom, he let the phone ring once and ended the call. Five minutes later, Sabrina called him back. She said that she didn’t know where Bo was and that he’d left earlier with Hank, and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. Black told Victor to tell Sabrina that if she saw or heard from Bo that she could call him, and then get the fuck away from Bo.

  "Where to now?" Victor asked as he drove back to the Bronx.

  "Let’s go find Cruz," Black said. "And let me see your phone." Black tried Bobby’s cell again, and once again, it went straight to voicemail. Then he tried him again at the club before calling Nick on his cell phone.

  "Nick, its Black. Where are you?"

  "Me and Bobby are on our way to take care of something," Nick said.

  "There are some things goin’ on that I need to talk to you two about. When you get done, y’all meet me at Cynt’s."

  "We’ll meet you there when we’re done. We got some things that we need to let you know about."

  "Am I gonna be happy about it?"

  Nick looked at Bobby. "He wants to know if he’s gonna be happy about what we did," he said and handed Bobby the phone.

  "What’s up, Mike? No, you’re not gonna be happy about it, but trust me, what me and Nick are doin’ tonight has to be done. Where you at?"

  "Me and Victor are about to take care of something, so I’ll see you two later at Cynt’s," Black said and ended the call.

  Black and Victor headed back to the Bronx and checked out the spots where they thought they might find Cruz until they got word that he was at his apartment.

  When Black and Victor arrived at Cruz’s they got out and headed for the building. As soon as they got close to it, somebody began shooting at them. Both Black and Victor took out their guns and ran toward the building, firing shots as they ran until they made it to the building.

  "Think that was meant for us?" Victor asked while he reloaded his weapon.

  "Let’s go find out," Black said and went inside.

  They got on the elevator and Black pressed the button for the fourth floor. "But Cruz is on six."

  "Stick with me, kid, and learn something," Black said as the door closed. "Right now there’s at least two, maybe three mutha fuckas standing in front of the door. When the door opens on six they’re gonna start shooting. Do you really wanna be in here when that happens?"

  "Not really," Victor replied and felt a little stupid.

  The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and they stepped to either side as the door opened. Black stuck his head out of the elevator and looked in both directions. The hallway was clear. Black pressed the button for the sixth floor. "Come on."

  They ran to the stairwell and made their way up the steps. When they got to the fifth floor they heard gunfire. "You were right," Victor said and continued up the steps behind Black.

  "Stick with me, kid, and you just might learn a few things and live long enough to use them," Black said as he got to the door. "You ready?"

  "Let’s do it."

  Black opened the door, stuck his gun out and fired blindly down the hall before he stepped out. There were two men with their backs to the wall. They opened fire and started backing their way down the hall toward Cruz’s apartment. Victor began firing shots from the doorway. Black hit the floor and fired at the men. He shot one in the back as he turned to run. Victor hit the other with two shots to the chest to clear the hallway.

  Black got up and started walking down the hall. Just then, Jorge stuck his head out of the apartment and began firing. Black rammed his shoulder into the door of another apartment and took cover inside. Both Black and Victor began firing at Jorge from their positions. While Jorge covered for him, Cruz came running out of the apartment and down the hall.

  "There he goes," Black shouted and went after Cruz. Jorge ducked back in the apartment. Victor reloaded his weapon then came out of the stairwell and started down the hall.

  As Black passed by the apartment Jorge came out the door and prepared to fire. "Behind you, Black," Victor yelled and took aim.

  Black turned in time to see Victor drop Jorge with a shot to the head. He nodded his appreciation at Victor and went after Cruz.

  When Black got to the stairwell, he could see Cruz running down the steps two floors below. He fired a couple of shots and went after him. On the way down the steps, Black changed the clips in his guns.r />
  When Cruz got to the first floor he stopped and fired a shot at Black. He fired back and hit Cruz in the leg. Cruz took a couple more shots and continued down the steps into the basement.

  Black followed him in.

  When he entered the basement was dark. There were only two lights in the distance. It was obvious from the cobwebs that very few people went down there. As he searched the basement for Cruz, Black could hear what sounded like rats moving across the floor.

  Black moved slowly toward the light with both guns drawn until his foot hit a beer can. Cruz heard the sound and fired in that direction, but it wasn’t close. Black picked up the can and threw it. When the can hit the floor Cruz fired again. Black saw where the shot came from and moved carefully toward it.

  As Black came to a clearing he found Cruz sitting on the floor in a corner. Cruz raised his weapon and pulled the trigger, but he was out of bullets.

  "Hello, Cruz."

  Cruz threw the gun at Black, but he stepped out of the way. He picked up the empty gun and hit Cruz in the face with it. Black could see the blood pooling around his leg. He stepped on the wound and put his weight on it.

  "Ouchhh, shit!" Cruz yelled in pain.

  Black knelt down next to Cruz. "Was all this really necessary? I only wanted to talk."

  "Fuck you, Black."

  Black hit Cruz in the face with the barrel of his gun. "Doesn’t matter now."

  "You gonna kill me anyway," Cruz said.

  "You’re right. You’re gonna die. But before I kill you, I’m curious. Why’d you start shooting at me when we got out the car?"

  Cruz didn’t answer so Black shot him in the other leg. Then he pressed the barrel into the wound.

  "Okay, okay, shit. Man said you was comin’ to get me for killin’ Kenny. But I told you, I ain’t have nothing to do with that shit."

  "Then tell me who did?"

  "Fuck you, man. I ain’t no fuckin’ snitch. Go ahead and fuckin’ shoot. I die like a fuckin’ man."

  Black looked around the darkened area and walked away without speaking. When he came back he had a chain in his hand. He swung the chain around, inching closer and closer to Cruz’s face. Cruz didn’t flinch and Black laughed. "You a tough mutha fucka."