Page 12 of Deadly Legacy
“Wallace Hoyt is a respected name in finance, no?” Grigorii said, his finger tracing the edge of a surveillance photo showing Reuben’s father entering Dmitrii’s club. “Now he deals with Miroslav?”
Reuben stood with perfect posture beside Grigorii’s desk, his green eyes focused and analytical as he studied the financial reports. “His company has been failing for months. Three major investments collapsed, institutional clients pulling out...” His voice remained steady, but Nikon caught the slight flex of his jaw. “These financial records show he’s desperate.”
He speaks of his father as if analyzing a stranger,Nikon thought.A shield against the pain of abandonment.
The leather chair creaked as Alexei shifted, tapping through the banking records on his tablet. “The money came through classic laundering channels. Smaller amounts merged into larger ones, impossible to trace back to source without inside knowledge.”
“Knowledge we happen to have,” Nikon added, moving to stand beside Reuben, close enough that the sleeve of his suit brushed against Reuben’s arm.
“And now we know why Dmitrii wants Quantize Guard.” Reuben pulled up technical schematics on the monitor.“Their software could create a surveillance network that sees everything—including our operations.”
“That would give Dmitrii eyes outside every casino, every dock, every warehouse we own.” Grigorii quickly caught on as he re-examined the surveillance photos. “We’dnevermove product without him knowing.”
The study felt smaller than usual, the wood-paneled walls closing in as the implications sank deeper. The faint scent of Grigorii’s cigar from earlier still lingered in the room. Nikon stood with his back to the window, hyperaware of the weight of his shoulder holster.
“Not just our operations,” Reuben added, loosening his tie slightly. “If integrated with city-wide systems, it could track our people through facial recognition anywhere there’s a camera.”
He thinks like one of us now,Nikon realized, a mixture of pride and unease sliding through him.
Alexei leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed. “The money trail is clean but unmistakable. Three separate transfers through progressively smaller banks until they landed in Wallace Hoyt’s corporate accounts.”
“Dmitrii gets quite ambitious these days,” Nikon said, his voice low. “Using Reuben’s father against us.”
Grigorii’s eyes lifted to meet his brother’s eyes, then settled on Reuben’s. “Dmitrii uses your father to strike at us all,” he said, his voice hardening. “This isn’t just business now.”
“No.” A muscle flickered along Nikon’s temple. “It’s family.”
Reuben’s shoulders straightened at the word, that almost imperceptible shift that happened whenever he was included as Matvei—not just Nikon’s partner, but family.
Nikon circled the antique desk, his fingers grazing the polished wood. “We need to understand exactly what Wallace wants from this deal.”
“Money, obviously.” Alexei flicked his wrist dismissively. “His company bleeds cash. And these financial reports show at least three ventures underwater.”
“I know my father,” Reuben said, shaking his head. “Money matters, but it’s never just about that. He craves status, influence.”
Grigorii tapped his fingertips against the desk. “So Dmitrii provides a financial lifeline, and Wallace brings legitimacy and connections, yes?”
“Exactly,” Reuben nodded. “My father’s name still carries weight in certain circles.”
Nikon watched Reuben, noting the subtle tension around his eyes. “And together they become more dangerous than either one of them alone.”
“What’s your read, Alexei?” Grigorii directed his question to Alexei, who was still scrolling through financial data.
Alexei glanced up, his eyes sharp despite his relaxed posture. “Wallace is drowning. These investments here—” he turned the tablet so they could see, “—show a pattern of increasingly desperate gambles.”
Nikon glanced at Reuben with a slight smile. “Unlike your father, you at least know when to walk away from a losing position.”
Reuben’s eyebrows rose in mock offense. “Are you suggesting I ever face losing positions?”
“Only in certain private games we play at home,” Nikon replied, his voice dropping suggestively.
Alexei groaned. “Please spare us the domestic bliss details.”
Grigorii cleared his throat loudly as he pushed himself up from his chair and moved to the antique cabinet in the corner. “If you two are finished, we have a snake problem to discuss.” The clink of crystal against crystal punctuated the silence that followed his words as he extracted a decanter and four glasses.
“So we have a snake and a desperate man after technology that would expose us,” Grigorii said, pouring vodka. “What’s our play?”
Nikon accepted the glass his brother offered, feeling the cool surface of it against his fingertips and the weight of tradition it carried. “We have two advantages. One, we know their plan. Two, they don’t know we know.”
