Chapter 19
Dmitry prepared to leave the building with his full entourage
for his meeting. They were all in expensive black
suits and dress coats, all standing tall and wide, intimidating
the onlookers as they passed by quietly.
People whispered as they glided through the building.
Mafia. Vory. Medlov. Men moved over to let them pass,
and women looked on curiously.
Their footsteps could be heard in cadence down the
long marble grand hallway, full of force and retribution for
anyone who dared block their paths.
While the others relished the attention and the urgency
that came with their presence, Dmitry walked confidently,
never really paying attention to all of the attention that was
on him. He considered the men‟s eagerness and their
aggressive attitudes to be an attribute of youth, therefore
brushing it off.
Instead, he focused on the important meeting that
would convene in less than an hour. It was imperative that
everything go as well as it had the day before in New York.
The heavy snow storm had picked up and violent winds
ripped through the front doors of the hotel as Dmitry
passed through them. The force of the winds waved
through his heavy wool black coat, through the curls of his
hair, straight through his suit to his bones.
Dmitry took in a deep breath, expanding his lungs in the
cold, feeling the burn through his chest. He welcomed the
cold and the violent weather. It was just a friendly reminder
that he was home.
His eyes sparkled like blue diamonds in the snow, the
blondness of his hair and the rose embellished hue of his
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fair skin blended well in his native terrain. However, there
was nothing more natural to him that the tech nine automatic
machine gun in its holster under his coat, the knife in
his pants leg or the Glock in his briefcase.
Many heads of Vory chose to travel light and let their
men carry the real hardware, but Dmitry believed that
leadership started with good examples. He insisted that
every man with him come strapped or not come at all.
Dmitry and Anatoly were loaded in together in the middle
of the caravan of Mercedes trucks. Then they all were
carted off to a private summit with heads of the Vory v
Zakone, unsure of what the events might have in store.
Dmitry had not shared with anyone outside of his son,
the purpose of the meeting but insisted that it was most
urgent.
Anatoly sat across from Dmitry, shaved, showered and
suited. The change in his wardrobe had been deliberate and
demanded by his father. Dmitry had come to him a few
weeks ago with a card for a tailor and instructed him to go
there. No one will ever take you seriously if you don't, Dmitry said
to him in a low, baritone chastising tone.
That day, Anatoly had gotten rid of most of his favorite
clothes and started to wear tailored suits, made especially
for his body, for his job. Playtime was nearing its end for
Anatoly, and even he knew it.
"If all goes well, this will be the last time that you and I
will travel together," Dmitry said with a small, proud grin.
"To ensure that all is not lost in an ambush, we won‟t be
allowed."
"You mean there will be no more chauffeuring you
around?" Anatoly asked sarcastically.
"I know that you will miss it," Dmitry said jokingly.
"But I will need a new driver."
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"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Anatoly asked,
concerned.
"You act as though I‟m leaving something that has
brought me great joy." Dmitry chuckled a little under his
breath then looked over at his son. "I couldn‟t be surer of
anything. Trust me."
"It was your life for so long, though. How can you walk
away? If she loves you, she can do so with you as the man
you are. To reinvent yourself seems hopeless. It doesn‟t
seem right to give up your life to enhance hers."
Dmitry was quiet for a moment. "My life is back in that
hotel now. I‟m growing tired of this, Anatoly. Yet, I‟ve
worked too hard to just give it over to someone who
doesn‟t deserve it. You are my son. This is your rightful
place. You are the rightful heir. It has worked out a lot
better than I ever expected it to. Before you came into my
life, I was sure that it would end…badly."
Anatoly nodded. "I only hope that I can make you
proud."
"You‟ve already done that," Dmitry confirmed.
"You know, for years, I was a snotty-nosed teenager
terrorizing these same streets, dreaming about becoming
Vory v Zakone, dreaming about meeting you and plotting
on ways to make more crumbs." Anatoly looked at his
father and smiled. "Now, I may very well be a boss at
twenty-one years old. That sounds unbelievable."
"One of the youngest…ever."
"It‟s a big responsibility."
"Well, I have prepared you well. There is no better tutelage
than my own. You remind me of myself, except for
your height. You are barely 72 inches. That is extremely
short for a Medlov, but your heart is like lion. You are a
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fighter and a leader. No one can deny this. You won‟t let
them."
"And a killer," Anatoly added. Even he was not without
some guilt.
Dmitry looked out the window and sighed. "That is
one of the staples of this brotherhood, son. To kill or to be
killed. Very few of us are blessed to die of old age."
Dmitry cleared his throat. "It‟s…how we are born. To
worthless women, to lives of crime, famine, darkness. We
are bred to be what we are now. You should never feel bad
about that. It is the nature of the beast. Besides, no one
can ever say that I gave you a silver spoon. You came in
and worked as a lowly solider. You had to gain your
respect, and you did. Now, these papers in my briefcase
confirming your biological DNA link to my own, your loyal
work to the Vory v Zakone, the blessing from the New
York family and my final stamp of approval will end all
doubt that your rightful place is at the head of your father‟s
table."
Anatoly tried hard not to get emotional. Instead he
nodded at his father and sat up straighter. He wished that
some of the young men, who had made fun of him as a
little boy when he told them who his father was but did not
believe him, could see him now being escorted through
downtown Moscow with Dmitry Medlov, the most feared
of the Vory v Zakone in all of Russia.
Anatoly wished more than anything that he could see all
their faces when he had stars across his chest. His mother
would have died of pride. His younger brother would have
wanted nothing more to do with him. His boys…they
would have been so jealous – extremely envious of him.
But he knew that all of his hopes were in vain. Nothing
would ever be the same if he received approval today. He
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looked over at his father, relaxed and confident, even going
before the wolves. How he wanted to be him one day.
There were supposed to be no meetings while Dmitry
was away in Russia, and most of the council chose to adhere
to his wishes. However, a small group led by Ivan gathered
under the cover of night in the back of a small restaurant on
the outskirts of Memphis to talk about the future of the
Medlov Family without Dmitry as its leader.
Although all the men feared Dmitry, and rightfully so
because of his iron hand, some longed to grow their legacy
through other means that had been deemed unstable for the
Memphis operations by the collective council many years
before.
Ivan had picked up on this tension in many of the meetings
and had provided the men an audience as soon as word
reached them that Dmitry would be away for a few weeks.
He was great at reading people, especially corrupt people.
He had used his intuition on many occasions to capitalize
on his own ambitions. This situation was no different.
Now, he would use these disloyal bastards to get to his
brother.
The rain beat on the building as they drank heavily under
receded lights and soft music. Each of the three men,
including Ivan, were a still a little leery of what they were
attempting to do, even though Dmitry was thousands of
miles away.
Each understood the grave consequences of his actions
and insisted that at least four of their best men stand post
surrounding the building. However, they all knew that
should Dmitry come for them, those men would not be
enough protection.
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"Let‟s get started," Ivan began as his man closed the
door of the private room. "I‟ve spoken with several other
men not associated with the Vory v Zakone around Memphis
who would be interested in doing business with us.
And they have agreed under one condition." He looked
around the room at the eyes glued to his mouth and his
every word. "The condition being that we eliminate Dmitry
and any men who are in agreement with him. That would
mean the entire council."
There was an automatic sigh of defeat. The condition
was more than a notion for any of them. While it appeared
that Dmitry traveled light, the truth of the matter was that
he had over 200 men within the region were in allegiance to
him. His organizational skills should have been the seventh
wonder of the world. In a dangerous business of organized
crime where men continuously stabbed each other in the
back, Dmitry was no Caesar and no one had ever been
strong or bold enough to be his Brutus.
"Dmitry‟s men are larger in number than our own by
thirteen heads if you have forgotten," Nicolai, one of
Dmitry‟s most trusted men said, taking a sip of his strong
drink. "What we are proposing is the deliberate overturning
of our own leader. To do that would send the wrong
message to others who have long been interested in taking
over our business. Plus, let us not for get the code.
Thieves- in-Law. What we are proposing will cause us to
face retaliation by New York and Moscow."
"Not if we do it the right way," Ivan protested. "New
York has never been one hundred percent sold on Dmitry‟s
tactics even if Moscow has. However, they have never
gotten in the way, because he has always delivered. What
we need to prove is that his new love interest is proving to
be his Achilles‟ heel. He is one of the first in the states to
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amend the code and allow marriage, family and legitimate
business, and look what it had done to him…to us. There
was a reason that the codes were in place. Who is he to
change it? That is reason enough in itself for him to be
killed."
"I didn‟t know that you cared so much about the code,"
Nicolai said unconvinced. "Didn‟t you have a wife?"
There was a silence in the room. Ivan looked over at
the man with a scowl on his dark face. Then he smiled.
The deepness of his dimples and the curve of his beautiful
face were over powered by the sheer hatred and malice that
he carried in his soul.
"Had a wife? Yes, I did. Funny thing happened with us
though. Dmitry killed her." Silence over took the room
long enough for the clicking of dishes to be heard out in the
main area of the restaurant. No one wanted to talk about
Ivan‟s dead wife. Many had heard the rumors, but no one
dared utter a word.
"So this is about revenge?" Nicolai pressed the issue.
"Because if it is, you need to get in line. Many people want
to kill Dmitry because of someone that they‟ve lost. It
doesn‟t mean that they will be avenged, especially by his
own captains."
"No. This is about money. And the only way that we
make more of it is to cost him and New York a great deal of
theirs."
"Are you proposing that we become sloppy in our own
business?" Max asked, another of the closest of Dmitry‟s
council.
He had long wished for more money to pay for his mistresses
and wife. The multitude of his harem was growing
and his cash flowed was dwindling due to the aching
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recession. Plus, his jealousy towards Dmitry had only
deepened through the years.
Max had asserted to his wife and closest friends on
many occasions that it was Dmitry‟s looks that got him as
far as he had gone. Had Dmitry been fat like Max, who had
been treated for diabetes, obesity and heart disease for over
ten years now, then the story would have been quite
different for him.
"I am simply saying it‟s going to take a sacrifice in our
own daily business to get rid of him."
The men were not sold. In fact, they were more resistant
that ever.
"He‟ll only tighten the reigns. Our incompetence all of
a sudden will send red flags. He‟ll cut us down where we
stand." Nicolai was ready to pull away from the table. He
had hoped that Ivan had a better plan than this. "Please do
not tell me that you have brought us down here for some
paper thin conspiracy plan that will only land our heads on
the chopping block, our families, and our men. You have
to have more than a few adolescent whores in mind and
suggestions that we become careless in our finances. Tell
me something more or I walk. Besides, if Dmitry would kill
his brother‟s wife, God only knows what he would do to
us." He looked at the other men, reminding them of how
close to death they were at that very moment.
"We also give him over, limb by limb, to the police,"
Ivan continued adamantly.
He was unmoved by their fear, unmoved by the mention
of his dead wife. His only goal was to get them in
agreement. Once the plan was laid out and complete, he
would kill them too. He smiled as he thought of it. A
whole new breed of Vory v Zakone would be put in
place…all following him. "There is an ongoing investigaDmitry's
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tion on all of us right now. You. You‟re family. Your
men." He mocked them.
"We‟re listening," Max said, concerned. He reached
for his friend Nicolai to settle down. Dmitry had always
protected them from any real police threat. This was a new
development, a reason possibly to validate their new alliance
with Ivan.
"I don‟t have a lot of information right now, but I know
that Dmitry was approached by two police officers at the
Peabody only weeks ago. They know something and they
must be close to producing evidence."
"How can we be sure that they are not his?"
"They are not." Ivan snapped. He would not give
away his sources. "All of us are being watched. Maybe
even now. I‟m sure that New York would want to end the
investigation here and not allow it to end up at their front
door. This is how we will couch our ambush to them when
they become concerned about their white knight."
"So how do you suggest we give him over? His lawyers
will find a way to have him out by night fall should the
police, federal or local, pick him up. Plus, he has moles."
"I‟ve set up shop in quite a few places since I‟ve been
here. But I made one house very special. It‟s full of under
aged girls, prostituted out for the most depraved sex
possible." He licked his lips and grinned like a chess cat.
Many of the girls at the house had been used for his own
pleasure on tortured nights when he would visit. "It‟s a
cash cow, and the house is in Dmitry‟s name. No one
knows about it. The girls are drugged day and night. The
oldest of them is only seventeen. All we need to do is
somehow turn this information over to the cops. He‟ll be
faced with hard time. That will give us time to shut down
his other operations and set up our own."
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"So what are you waiting for?" Max asked. "If this is all
that we need to do."
"I am waiting for the right time. When he returns, we‟ll
set it up. I‟ll need your help for that."
"If that doesn‟t work?" Nicolai asked. "After all, it is
his house. We cannot be sure that he doesn‟t already know
that it‟s there. You underestimate your brother and you
definitely underestimate the reach of the Vor…"
"If all else fails, we kill him." Ivan said, rolling his eyes.
"No elaborate plan. We just fucking kill him."
"Just kill him?" Nicolai laughed. "How many have
tried that? Numerous men. They are all dead. And I am
not talking about good deaths. Their body parts are all over
this city."
"I am his brother. His blood. If there is a man who
knows how to get to him, I do. Plus, he and I have an
unsettled score." Ivan took a shot of vodka and wiped his
mouth with his sleeve. "Don‟t shit your pants, ladies. I
don‟t need your help for this. I do it myself, but when I do
it, I take his place, his house, his life. I have given you three
plans that can go on simultaneously. One of them will
work."
"Okay. What for us if you succeed…same percentage?
Still there is no reason yet for us to consider joining with
you." Nicolai didn‟t want to change one dictator for
another. It was fruitless.
"More. A lot more. There will be less of us to deal
with. If I kill him, you kill the remaining council. That
shouldn‟t be too hard to do, considering that they hold on
to his every word. They won‟t know what to do without
him. We will usher in a new era for the Medlov family –
one where we make all the money." He looked around.
His hooded dark eyes gazed over them. "Agreed?"
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"Agreed," the men said, looking at each other.
"Good," Ivan chucked. He raised his drink and toasted
the men, mocking them inwardly. They were backstabbing,
disloyal servants who had no right to be called Vory v
Zakone. He would make them pay but not before Dmitry.
It was all that he could think of anymore.
He had waited for his big brother to rise just to make
his fall harder. The fury showed on his stone face. He
looked off in the distance, thinking of his own wife and her
bloody, limp body.
Dmitry deserved death, but it would not just be enough
for him to suffer. His brother‟s sins would be revisited
upon Royal also. Ivan ached to have her. The revenge
would not be complete until he had ravaged her sweet little
body in such a way that it would kill Dmitry dead without
the use of a weapon.