“Come, let’s get out of here,” he says.
“What did you do to make these guys want to hurt you so bad?’’ I ask curiously.
“It’s not personal. Just business. If those hired gorillas had not struck me from behind, it would have been a different outcome. It’s hard to mount a defense when you’re already on the ground taking a kicking.’’
“Who are they?’’
“Just rivals,’’ he says flippantly as if this kind of thing occurred to him regularly. “So, are you going to tell me your name or what?”
“Nikolai Smirnov.”
“I live nearby. Want to come around for a drink?”
I didn’t have anything better to do, besides, I was intrigued by the man.
His place turns out to be a gated house in an upmarket part of the city. As soon as we approach, his security guards rush out to help him. They want to keep me out, but Marat waves away their concerns and takes me into his home.
Whoever Marat is, he’s certainly doing well as his house is like a mini palace. That night I enjoy the best sleep I’ve ever had in my lavish bedroom suite. The next day over breakfast fit for a king, Marat makes me an offer. He wants me to work for him and his family. I saved his life and now he wants to repay me by bringing me into the organization at a high level.
He explains that the collapse of the Soviet Union created numerous opportunities throughout Russia, particularly for organized crime and his family is one of the most successful.
At first I am shocked to find myself sitting to breakfast and being presented with an offer to work for a violent Mafia organization, but the more Marat talks, the more I want the same. I accept his offer, and my new life of ruthless ambition begins.
For more than a year I get into the business of stealing cars, housing them in specialist garages that change the chassis numbers and the number plates and ship them off across the world. I also get involved in (kryshy) protection rackets: extorting businesses when they begin trading in the areas we control.
Yes, sometimes people die, but it’s mostly rivals and those who had it coming, anyway. Marat tells me I’m a natural. I’ve got criminality running in my blood. I smile and say nothing. It doesn’t matter what he thinks. I know why I’m doing it. Money.
Without it my promise to my brother dies.
Our financial agreement is that all the money earned by the members (Boyviks) passes to Marat, the Brigadier, whose position is similar to a caporegime in an Italian-American Mafia crime family. Marat is also responsible for distributing funds to the bookkeeper who then uses it to bribe government officials.
Marat’s uncle, Viktor Ivankov, is the boss (Pakhan). The boss sits down with the power elite of the country: usually corrupt officials in high places, and the Chiefs of police to ensure we don’t get any trouble.
Very quickly serious money starts to pour into my bank accounts. The first thing I do is arrive one evening, unannounced and with a bottle of expensive vodka, at Yuri and Natalya’s home. The shock on their faces gives me my first sense of happiness since my brother died. I eat and drink with the family.
Again, they barely eat, allowing me to have my fill. Imagine their incredible surprise when I hand them the deeds to a house in a good neighborhood. I leave their home, smiling. They invite me to come back and visit them. I smile and nod, but I know I will never see them again.
Marat’s operation was already making a lot of money for the family, but with my hard work, input, attention to detail, an intuitive feel for anything that’s wrong, our earnings multiply. So much so, one day, Marat tells me his uncle Viktor wants to meet me.
We arrive outside the largest private house in Russia. Surrounded by high walls and electric gates, and swarming with security guards, you cannot mistake it for anything but the house of a Pakhan. A large man frisks me before we are shown into a cavernous library. It smells of new leather and expensive cologne. There is a large, thick set man with cold, suspicious eyes, sitting on a chesterfield sofa. He must be in his late fifties, but his skin is tight and he still has a full head of hair.
“Uncle Viktor this is Nikolai, Nikolai, my uncle,’’ Marat introduces.
“Hello, Mr. Ivankov.’’
A slow smile slips into his still face. “Call me Viktor.’’
I nod.
‘‘Sit,” Viktor invites, pointing to the seat next to him. “We will have a drink together.” He signals with his large hand to one of his staff who immediately slips out of the room.
“So, Nikolai, Marat tells me about the great things you have achieved for my family.”
I shrug. “It is nothing.”
His shrewd eyes gleam. “You have certainly impressed my nephew, anyway.’’
A bottle of Vodka and three glasses arrive. We drink and talk, and drink some more. The conversation is general, but Marat suddenly seems irritated by all the attention I am getting from Viktor. He jumps to his feet.
“I’m going out for a while,’’ he says.
“Take two of my security,’’ Viktor says.
“I’ll be fine,” Marat says sulkily.
“There is a war going on. Do not make it easy for my enemies to kidnap or assassinate you,” Viktor says in a completely different tone.
“Fine,” Marat calls as he walks out.
“My nephew’s a little headstrong, but he’s a good soldier,” Viktor says calmly.
We talk for another half-an-hour. Again, nothing of importance.
“Come, let’s eat,” Viktor says, clapping me on the shoulder.
Though we have just met, and I have no doubt Viktor is a very ruthless man, I feel a strange bond with him. We eat the excellent food and afterwards the conversation turns to business.
“Nikolai, I do not want you to work with Marat anymore. You are undoubtedly strong and fearless, but in our field, men who know how to use a gun and their fists are many. You are too bright to be doing what you are doing.”
I know a test when I see one. I nod politely. “Thank you, Viktor, but I owe a great deal to Marat, and do not wish to dishonor him, or our friendship.’’
He smiles slowly, pleased with my answer. “Loyalty is a good thing, but you need not worry about your friendship with Marat. In the structure of our organization, everyone works for the boss, and I am the boss of this family. Marat will be honored that he brought someone of your ability into the family, and he’ll be duly rewarded.’’
I lift my wine glass to my lips. “What do you have in mind, Viktor?’’
“I am a wealthy man with numerous business arrangements across Russia, but as these businesses grow I am less able to ensure our partners remain loyal and trustworthy. You will begin by taking responsibility for all of our clubs and gambling operations. They number over two hundred, but many are not as profitable as they should be. They need a fresh set of eyes and a sharp mind to stop the skimming.”
“And for my troubles?”
“Ten percent of the profits.’’
I twirl the wine glass in my fingers. “Fifteen percent and one favor. The only one I will ever ask of you.”
For a long while he doesn’t speak and neither do I. Whoever breaks the silence is the loser. I watch as he lifts his wine glass to his mouth and takes a sip.
Then he laughs. “If you had accepted ten percent I would have changed my mind,” he says frankly. “Ambition is good, Nikolai. It’s what got me here. I am curious. What is this favor you want to ask of me?’’
“My parents died in an accident, but I do not
know where they are buried. I would like to find out where, so I can visit their graves. I’m sure you have contacts in the Interior ministry who can provide this information.’’
He pauses to think about my request, then he nods. “I will do this thing for you, Nikolai.’’
“Thank you, Viktor.’’
He smiles. A cold, shark-like smile. “Now we will drink to our arrangement.’’
Two days later I get a call from one of Viktor’s personnel.
“Hello, Nikolai, the boss wants to see you.’’
“Okay. When?’’
“Tonight.”
“Fine, I’ll have my driver take me around later,’’ I say.
“Take a seat, Nikolai.”
I sit opposite Viktor and watch him drink his vodka slowly.
“What am I doing here, Viktor?” I ask.
“You remember that favor you wanted? Do you still want to know?’’
I raise an eyebrow, surprised at his question. ‘‘Of course, it’s very important to me.’’
“You might not like the answers.’’
“It doesn’t matter. I still want to know,’’ I say with a frown.
“All that you know about your parents, Nikolai, is a lie.’’
I freeze. “What do you mean?’’
“Your parents were not doctors. They did not die in an accident. They were KGB agents.”
“How can that be?”
“Think, Nikolai. The fine house. The frequent trips away. All part of their cover. You were just too young to know different.’’
I jump to my feet, my heart pumping hard. “Does that mean they are still alive somewhere?”
He shakes his head. “No. They’re dead. They were murdered, but even their deaths did not satisfy the State. The children had to be punished for the sins of the parents. That is why you were sent to the orphanage.”