January 22, 2016
Friday

Ottawa, Ontario

Nikolai knew the moment he saw the metal chair in the middle of the office above Club Euphoria that he may have been mere moments from having his head blown off. His heart pounded after the door clicked shut, echoing around him as though the safety of a gun had been clicked off. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. If these were the last moments of his life, he wouldn’t go down begging for another breath.

He stared out the window at the gold and pink hues reflecting off the snow and ice blanketing the city streets. Not bad for a final view. Not bad at all. He turned back to the men, eying them down darkly. These smug, arrogant fucks who thought they saw right through him when they couldn’t see past their own idiocy. The first with short, black hair, and steely blue eyes dead and void of any emotion. A black suit fit immaculately his six-foot-something frame, fingers adorned with gold rings.

“It has come to my attention that some believe you to be a cop,” he stated in a thick Russian accent, hissing the word “cop” off his tongue. His gaze remained on Nikolai, waiting for cracks in a usually hardened shell.

Fedar, the son of the boss, wanted answers.

Nikolai held his head up. “And where does such belief come from?”

“I will be asking the questions,” Fedar snapped. “Sit.”

Being ordered around like a dog sure got old fast. Still, he had little room to protest. This, after all, would be an interrogation. His heart plummeted into his stomach. He raised his hands, then sat in the chair. Sunlight gradually pulled back towards the wall, withdrawing from the room as if frightened.

“You’re a cop,” the second man said. He crossed his arms. Leather jacket, dark shirt and pants. Dirty blond hair and those dark brown eyes which fixated on Nikolai.

“You know, Sidor,” Nikolai said, his voice gruff, but without an accent. “If you’re going to make such outlandish accusations, you best come with proof.”

He returned the intense gaze, not breaking eye contact with Fedar. Never feed them fear. They could smell it like ravenous dogs.

“I have a source telling me you are a cop,” Sidor replied.

“Well, you have a shitty source,” Nikolai said, throwing his hands up. “Three years, I have been an associate with you guys. Three years, my daughter and I have worked for you. We make you money. Lots of money. And this is what I get? Accusations?”

The third man stepped forward and drew a gun. Nikolai didn’t wince but he inwardly flinched and did everything in his power not to react to the barrel being pressed to his head. When a mob assassin held a gun to someone’s temple, reactions only fueled the blood lust. Especially in someone like Borya Radimir, whose indignant stare through nearly gray eyes sent chills through every nerve in Nikolai’s body.

“Are you a cop?” Borya asked calmly.

“No,” Nikolai said.

He couldn’t control the flinch when Borya pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Nikolai raised his stare to meet Borya’s again. Sadism flooded Borya’s eyes. Amusement. The gun didn’t move. Nikolai’s heart raced. He became acutely aware of the blood pulsing in his veins. He wondered how much longer his own calm demeanor could last.

“Are you a cop?” Borya said. Steady. Ice in his eyes. The hue of gray, the glint of a knife’s edge became all Nikolai saw beyond the gun barrel. And traces of a grin.

“No,” Nikolai replied in a voice equally as steady.

Borya pulled the trigger. Nothing.

“Have you ever been a cop?” Borya asked. The Russian accent droned, an eerie calm.

“Never,” Nikolai replied flatly.

Borya pulled the trigger. Still nothing. If silence had physical weight, it would have sent the building crumbling to the ground.

“Enough,” Sidor commanded.

Borya frowned. “You told me to interrogate.”

“Interrogate. Not kill,” Sidor said irritably. “There have been enough bodies in the street lately. We don’t need one more.”

“My father wants the truth,” Fedar said.

“And the truth is, we have no proof this man is a cop,” Sidor said. “Put the gun away.”

“This was your son making the accusation!” Borya snapped.

“And we all know my son is a loose cannon. He isn’t reliable. We cannot have another innocent man killed on his whims. Endor will not have it now,” Sidor said.

“How do you know what my father will or will not have?” Fedar replied, crossing his arms.

Sidor turned to Fedar and stepped towards him. “I spoke to him right before I came here. I am his right hand, not you. You’d do well to remember your place. We cannot afford to have you both out of hand and killing everyone. You will get us all arrested, or killed as well.”

Nikolai kept his hands in plain sight and didn’t dare utter a word. He let the mobsters argue, taking in their words.

“I am not out of hand!” Borya shouted. “Tell your son to keep his mouth shut or I— ”

“Or you do what?” Sidor said. “Hold it together, Borya. I will deal with my son. That is not your place. Nor is killing Nikolai. Not today. You just pulled the trigger on this man three times and he maintained that he is no cop. Isn’t that enough?”

Borya moved so he was within a a breath of Sidor, their noses nearly touching. A growl came to Borya’s voice. “You tell me, boss. Is it?”

“I think it is,” Sidor said. He glanced at Nikolai. “You are free to go.”

Rage swelled in Nikolai as he stood. It churned and bubbled violently within his chest. He straightened his jacket. He turned to Borya with a menacing gaze. With a sudden loud crash, Nikolai flipped the chair, then tossed it across the room so it clattered against the wall. It clattered to the floor with an echoing thud. All three mobsters jumped. Borya drew his gun again. Sidor’s eyes went wide with surprise. Fedar placed his hand on his holster.

“I warned you, you son of a bitch,” Nikolai hollered, his voice gravelly and irate. He pointed at Borya. “Don’t you ever accuse me of being a fucking rat. A rat. Really? After everything I’ve done for you!”

Borya lunged forward. Sidor stepped between him and Nikolai. Nikolai remained back, but continued his tirade, his eyes ablaze with anger against Borya’s glare of ice.

“Try to kill me, you prick. Try it. And see what my daughter does about that. I guarantee you, you wouldn’t last a day with her hunting your sorry ass down. She doesn’t give a fuck where you rank in this crew, and frankly neither do I. Is that what you want? To get taken out by a woman because you got bloodthirsty in a game of Russian roulette with a guy who isn’t even a rat? Don’t you ever question my loyalty again. My honor. Fuck you, Borya. Fuck all of you.”

Echoes of his shouts followed when he stormed from the room. He let the door smash into the wall after he yanked it open. His footsteps thundered downstairs towards the front door before anyone could utter a word. Only a stunned silence dared to come after him.

Kira’s dark brown eyes flickered back and forth, following the restless pacing of the man before her. His quick yet quiet footsteps barely made an echo in the bland beige walls around them. No photos. No family references. A cot on the floor. A TV. Trash from various take-out meals. A duffel bag by the door.

This wasn’t even a bachelor suite. Gustav Sobol had been hiding from someone.

Gustav ran a hand through the thick dirty blond hair atop his head, styled into a high fade cut. He sighed.

“Look, I must get these diamonds off my hands. They’re hot, you see. Barely snatched from a bank vault yesterday,” he said with a Russian accent.

“How many diamonds?” Kira asked. She pressed her hands along the skirt of her black dress, standing before him.

“Fifty-five thousand dollars. Small for this crew, but they took what they could get. The job went wrong,” Gustav replied.

Kira nodded and have him a sympathetic look. “Ah, yes. I’ve been there. My father can make those disappear. The crew knows they won’t get that much for them, though, right?”

“Of course,” Gustav said. “They run a loss for this job. It’s a risk they take.”

“It’s a risk we take with every job. Which crew was this, by chance?” Kira asked.

“None of your business. You buying or not?” Gustav snapped.

Kira raised a hand. “Calm yourself. I merely wondered if I knew them, is all.”

Gustav wagged a finger at her. “No, no. Someone said you might be a cop.”

“Excuse me?” Kira said, putting her hand to chest. She frowned in disapproval. “Me, a cop? What makes you think that?”

“Someone’s kid was running his mouth off. Said you and your dad, you’re cops. Undercover,” Gustav said.

Slight panic rose in Kira’s chest. Such accusations never ended well, proved or not. She clasped her hands together to hide the slight tremble in her fingers.

“Nonsense,” she said with a scoff. “Do you think someone as unhinged as my father could ever be a cop?”

Gustav paused his pacing and glared at her. “Undercover cops are good actors. Or at least, skilled ones are.”

Kira met his intense gaze. Paranoia filled his hazel eyes. His hands fidgeted with his phone. He set it down to light a cigarette. Her heart raced.

“You are correct there. But you are wrong about my father and I. And with no proof other than one man’s rant, the accusations are unfounded. How would you like it if I showed up to say the same thing to you?” Kira said. She lowered the sternness in her voice and gave him a small smile.

“Gustav,” she continued gently, her voice lacking harshness in her Canadian tone. “We have worked together almost three years now. Have I ever, personally, given you any concern about me being a cop?”

He took a long drag from his cigarette. As the smoke left his mouth, he shook his head. “No but…”

“And you are the most paranoid person I know,” Kira stated with a light laugh which chimed through the room. “If anyone were to out an undercover cop, it would be you, right? You would see the signs before anyone.”

Gustav stared her down through the next few drags he took. Kira gave him an expectant look. She crossed her arms over her black fur coat and tapped her foot.

“Are we going to do this deal or not?” she asked.

Gustav sighed. “Yes. We are. Sorry. I have too much time to think.”

“I see that. Look, dad and I can help you. We will get rid of these diamonds before anyone clues in to their whereabouts. It is my father’s specialty, after all,” Kira said. “Let’s get this done before we all get tangled up with the police.”

“Yes. Yes, good idea. I will call with meeting details,” Gustav replied.

Kira nodded. “Very well. I look forward to hearing from you soon. Anything else?”

“That is all,” Gustav said.

He walked to the door to open it for her. She gave him one final nod and wrapped her coat around her before she stepped out into the frigid air, the snow crunching beneath her boots while she returned to the car.

She didn’t let out a deep breath until she sat behind the wheel. Gustav unraveled quickly, and Kira didn’t know how many more times she could reassure him of who she was before he let the paranoia lead him to doing something stupid and dangerous.

But what could she say? This life didn’t come for free. Some people were hardened enough to spend their entire lives in the underworld. Others became frayed versions of themselves, burned out, washed up, exhausted. And some, like Gustav, lost their minds.

Those, Kira feared the most.

“They think we’re cops. These fucking mobsters might have finally blown our cover, and I’d love to know who snitched,” Dwayne said. He took a long drag off his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window where a cold breeze sent a chill through the room.

Emily took off the fur coat, hung it up, and sighed. She began pulling out the pins holding her dark brown wig in place atop her head, letting them fall to the counter of the kitchen island between her and Dwayne. “Yes, Gustav also heard the rumor. Seems it’s gotten around. What do we do?”

“We carry on,” Dwayne said with a shrug. “If Kira and Nikolai disappear now, that will look more suspicious. We cannot let them have this win.”

Emily shook out her long, strawberry-blond hair from beneath her wig cap. She removed her colored contact lenses. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Dwayne glanced over at her, meeting the worried gaze in her young hazel eyes. Somehow, the International Crime Bureau got away with sending a rookie agent into one of the most dangerous undercover missions within the city of Ottawa. He was the only thing standing between her and the men who would surely tear her to pieces if she had been alone.

Why, though? What possessed the higher ups to send her, of all people, to accompany Dwayne down this perilous road into shadows of insatiable greed and violence? Had it been carelessness or something more?

“I understand,” Emily said. “Gustav said he would call with meeting details regarding the diamonds. Said they’re hot from a recent bank robbery that went wrong. He wouldn’t discuss who the group was, though, and I didn’t push it. He was paranoid enough.”

“Good call,” Dwayne said with a nod. “Let’s not make this any worse than it already is.”

“Agreed. I have a bad feeling about this meeting. Something is going to go wrong. I just don’t know what. I guess all we can do now is wait,” Emily said. She sighed.

He listened to her quiet footsteps go into her bedroom and close the door when he remained quiet. Dwayne looked down at the counter and took a deep breath. His hands still trembled slightly, fumbling to pull out a glass. He opened the nearby bottle of scotch. He poured himself a drink and took it one shot before he set the glass down. Grey cigarette smoke curled around him.

The clicks of the gun echoed in his head. One. Two. Three. The brush with death he hadn’t told Emily about — not yet. He poured another scotch, sipping this one between cigarette drags. After taking some time to decompress from the ordeal, he and Emily would need to go back out into the city and act like such accusations made no difference to their activity. As if it didn’t bother them.

As if they weren’t living the lie these men were so close to exposing.

Stay tuned for chapter 2 as I figure out my posting schedule for here!