Page 39 of Emerald Vices

It’s close to midnight when my men gather around me. We’re only one street over from the meeting place, waiting on Yorick to secure us a way into the seedy motel where the Brigade lieutenants are gathering.

“Only one man can be in the actual meeting room when it all goes down,” I inform my men. “Any more and we’ll be noticed.”

Shura’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t voice his reservations. “What about the rest of us?”

“There will be Brigadiers stationed outside the meeting room. Yorick will let us know the exact number soon. I want you to take them out—quietly,” I emphasize. “Then wait for my signal before you storm the place.”

“And you really think it’s a good idea for you, our pakhan, to be the one in that room when the meeting goes down?” Shura asks, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“I don’t move forward with bad ideas.” He flinches at my tone but falls silent. With a sigh, I toss him a bone. “I don’t plan on decimating their ranks tonight, but I do want enough blood spilled to force a change of allegiance.”

That’s the gist of my gameplan: that, in the absence of loyalty, fear will do the trick.

Right on schedule, my phone pings with an incoming message.

YORICK: Staff entrance at back of bldg. Take second staircase to fourth floor. Use Bear Door. Meeting in ten.

YORICK: Five guards.

It’s clear he’s typing fast. As fast as I need to move if I only have ten minutes to get into the room before the Brigadiers arrive.

Quickly, I share the information with my men. “Once I’m in, wait twenty minutes. Use the same entrance. I should be inside by that time and the meeting should be underway.”

I turn to Shura, clasping his hand the way we do before every high-risk operation. “You should be able to handle five guards without a problem, no?”

“Leave that to me,” he says confidently. “Just make sure you don’t get killed before we can get inside.”

Smirking, I gather my wits and dart towards the decrepit building.

The minutes fly as I follow Yorick’s directions through the building. Ten becomes nine, eight, seven before I reach the Bear Door, which turns out to be exactly what it sounds like—an old wooden door with the face of a roaring bear carved into the surface. Not a single other soul is around as I jimmy the lock and sneak inside.

The second I’m in, voices start to filter up from the staircase on my left.

I press the door closed quietly and turn to the room. Columns and arches ring the perimeter and there’s a raised dais in the center. Bedraggled red curtains cover broken, windowless stretches of the wall, leaving me plenty of shadowy alcoves to hide behind. But I find a door that leads to a bathroom and take refuge there just before men start filing into the room.

With the door slightly ajar, I watch the men enter one by one. Amongst the grizzled, scarred men, I spot Yorick.

He’s wearing a white button-down, his hair slicked back with an unnecessary amount of gel. I can only imagine he’s trying to fit in with the rest of these preening assholes.

By the time the door clicks shut, an incessant chatter fills the room like swarming locusts—until an older man steps onto the dais and the assembled group falls into a pregnant silence.

“My brothers,” Dario Krueger booms, his thick, white mustache twitching with every word. “It has been a long time since we’ve closed ranks in this way. I thank you for being here today.”

There was a time when Dario Krueger’s name carried weight in this city. But in the last few decades, he’s become just another forgotten name on a long list of fallen gangsters.

“We have been content to deal in the shadows, profiting off small deals and meager alliances. But an opportunity has presented itself.”

A low rumble emerges from the back of the room—whistles of support, excited murmurs.

Krueger smiles. “Slavik Kuznetsov approached me with a very tempting offer.”

There’s another rise in volume that Krueger waves away with obvious amusement. He’s almost paternal with his men—a father addressing his boisterous, reckless sons.

“He isn’t offering us only profit—he’s offering us territory. Prestige. We’ll have increased drug distribution to expand our market. In addition,” he says, “Slavik will give us license to bring back the flesh brothels that brought us to power in the first place.”

Flesh brothels? I have to grit my teeth to keep the angry growl at bay.

“It is a generous offer,” Krueger states, as though the matter is already decided.

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