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It was cold as the wind whipped around the tall buildings in downtown Richmond where Redman waited for Oleg on a street corner.
Redman jumped in at the corner as Oleg slowed the car.
The tension between the two was palpable.
“Where’ve you been, Branislava? Where’s Dimitri? I’ve been freezin’ out here for over twenty minutes,” Redman snarled, between the chatter of his teeth.
“I came as soon as I could. I’ve gotta move carefully around Dimitri. I took him out to dinner, and he’s back at the warehouse takin’ a nap. We’ll pick him up later and take him to the dock. He’s suspicious about the exchange tonight.” Oleg looked at Redman out of the corner of his eye as he turned onto the interstate ramp. “How’s that comin’?”
“It’s not, it’s not coming along at all, Oleg,” the younger man scowled. “We ain’t got nobody to transport.”
Oleg pulled the car off to the side of the road and stared at him without speaking.
Redman flinched in the passenger seat. “Okay, Oleg, what the hell do you want me to do? Manufacture women for tonight? Conjure up some female flesh? Maybe some mystical women without bruised faces and ligature marks?” His voice was tinged with sarcasm.
“We’ve gotta pull it off tonight. I can’t find Smirkowitz, and you know Dimitri Kazimir will kill us or have us killed if we come up short.”
Redman shrugged his shoulders. “Screw Dimitri. He’s not the only oar in the water,” he spat with anger in his voice. “Just postpone tonight’s rendezvous. I’ll round up some women for tomorrow night, even if I have to drive to hell and back to get them.”
Oleg couldn’t believe what his comrade had said. “Are you out of your mind? Do you know who Dimitri Kazimir is? He wants women tonight and more women tomorrow night.”
A flicker of anger flashed across Redman’s face. “Yeah, I know who he is, but things happen. And, we’re not gonna find Smirkowitz until we go to his house and check out his wife, so drive,” he ordered.
Oleg pulled off the shoulder of the interstate and exited left. “Dimitri Kazimir is the boss of human trafficking for Bratva.” Oleg paused for a moment for his statement to sink in. He continued, his voice threatening, “You never anger or insult a Bratva boss. Especially if you value your life.” He ended with his voice several octaves higher than normal.
The man ignored him. “Cut the gangsta crap. I don’t care, and I’m not scared of some Russian mob boss.”
“You damned well should be. You’re new in this organization, and you’ve got a lot to learn. Isn’t this your first ‘real’ assignment?”
“Where’re we goin’?” Redman demanded. “Where does Smirkowitz live and is his new wife there? Or, has somebody has offed her too?” he added sarcastically.
Oleg said nothing.
“Well, did your goons kill the first wife and kid?” Redman asked harshly. “I heard it was a bloody mess over there.”
Oleg shook his head. “I know nothing about Constance’s death, and I doubt Dimitri does either. He’d have told me earlier today if it had been the plan. I’ve no idea who killed them.”
Redman looked at him and laughed sarcastically. “Of course you don’t. I just bet. Isn’t it a bit ironic that you’ve gotta major Bratva contact on your hands who isn’t performing, and his ex-wife and kid are killed?” He shot Oleg a suspicious look.
Oleg shrugged his shoulders. “I got you, but you’re a contact who ‘isn’t performing well’ to quote you,” he said as he glared at Redman wondering if he could develop this arrogant man into a competent soldier for Bratva. He guessed he’d have some sort of clue if Redman could pull off his current double agent assignment.
Redman stared at Oleg, who noticed the younger man’s Adams apple working in his throat.
“I don’t think Bratva is involved in the murders,” Oleg said. “Dimitri was fond of Constance Smirkowitz. They were friends in Russia before she was ex-patriated. He selected her to be Nicholas’s wife several years before they actually married.”
Redman rolled his eyes, “So ...where’s Smirkowitz? Where’d he go?”
Oleg shook his head. “I’ve no idea.”
“He’s close to worthless, but you all covet him like he is some kind of hero.”
Oleg let out an exasperated sigh. “Parents were big in the Communist party and protected the assets of Bratva during the Soviet era. They offered their son to Bratva shortly after his birth. Nicholas, like you, was bred for this work. Nicholas’s parents were well respected, and we honor them by honoring their son.”
“That was eons ago. No one cares about that crap anymore. It’s a new ballgame,” Redman said smugly. “Nicholas is expendable, no question,” he added with a sneer.
Oleg was silent as he turned his car into the lavish, high-end subdivision where Nicholas Smirkowitz currently lived with his second wife and baby. The paved driveway was empty, and two gas front porch lights were burning brightly. He rang the bell and could hear Corinthian chimes echo through the vast downstairs. He pulled his coat tightly around him as he waited on the snow-covered front porch.