One Bad Job Read online

  “No.” I wasn’t sure if he actually expected an answer, but what the hell. If it kept me from getting another beating, I’d lick his fucking shoes if I had to.

  “Good, good.” He leaned forward. “What do you know about the man you stole from, Gennady Konovalov?”

  It took me a second to focus a clear thought. “Russian. Son of an immigrant. Big celebrity around Houston.”

  “Very good,” Petrovski said. “What else?”

  I squinted, as if that would make my brain work faster. “His daddy was a KGB plant,” I said, the information coming to me as I remembered what the dipshit kid had told us in hopes of saving his skin. “Except he was a Dolgo plant also. Long term plans and shit. African diamond and gold mines, French wholesaler, Texas distributor. He’s got some scam going with that and insurance money on top of money laundering.”

  “Very good!” Petrovski clapped his hands together, making spikes of pain rebound around inside my head. “How exactly did you come by this much information?” He seemed genuinely curious, as if I’d caught him completely by surprise with knowledge that an outsider like me would never have.

  “We robbed some kid, a nephew of Fetisov’s. Valerie, I think. Kid wouldn’t shut up. Told us everything he knew thinking we were going to kill him.”

  “And did you let him live after he gave you this information?” Petrovski asked, watching me with the same stare a cobra would.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and paying the price for it. “He’d tell his uncle, and he was high enough that Konovalov himself would have lent a hand. Couldn’t take that chance, not with the plan that I’d been making in my head as he was rattling off more details.” My mouth was as dry as sand, and I didn’t want to swallow any more blood. “You maybe score me some water or something?” Petrovski cocked his head like he’d just heard a human version of a dog whistle. “You wouldn’t want me to die of thirst before the job even starts, would you?”

  Petrovski snapped his fingers. I heard one of the thugs behind me root around in something, then footsteps. He came around to stand in front of me, holding a bottled water in his left hand. I reached out for it and received a punch to the side of my head. My ear was on fire, my head had alarm bells going off in it, and I felt myself about to fall over. I righted myself and saw the water bottle in front of my face.

  I reached for it again, this time receiving a face full of water. It was cold, which shocked me back to almost full alertness. I licked my lips, the taste of it heaven. He held the bottle out again. I stared at him, wondering if I could get my hands around his balls before he could react. I pictured myself grabbing them and both squeezing and pulling as I tried to crush them while ripping them from his body. The thought made me smile, and I even let out a short chuckle. He dropped the bottle in front of me and walked away while I scrambled to pick it up before more spilled out. The first drink almost choked me, but the second made everything in my life better for about five seconds.

  “I assume Mr. Pearson took care of that matter?” Petrovski asked, picking up where we’d left off.

  “Sure,” I said, taking another small sip. I was going to conserve it if I could since I wasn’t sure when I’d get more. I hoped I didn’t have to take a punch and a splash of water to the face each time I wanted a drink.

  “You aren’t the murdering type?”

  “I’ve done what I thought had to be done,” I said, shrugging and regretting it. Every part of my body felt like it had been encased in lead.

  “But you prefer to do it yourself, if it can be helped?”

  “Sure. Whatever. I’ve killed people, okay? Same as you. Difference between us is I don’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy wasting one of Konovalov’s Ivans anymore than I enjoyed wasting Gally so he couldn’t be tortured.”

  I didn’t care if he knew I was lying or not about Gally. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just as guilty, even if I hadn’t pulled the trigger. We’d left a man behind, something that the Airborne guys supposedly never did. When Dave aced him in cold blood, it made me question whether or not Dave had done the same to any of his buddies that might have slowed him down in Fallujah or the Korengal Valley when the shit began to fly.

  Petrovski’s eyebrows came together, surprise showing on his face once more. “Billy!” he cried out as if he were my great Russian uncle come to visit. “You are a killer! I’m impressed.”

  “Good for you,” I said, unable to keep my mouth shut.

  “It is good for me,” he said, his smile growing even wider. “It’s exactly what I need you to do for this job.”

  “Great. No kids. No women.”

  “Billy, if I tell you to burn down an elementary school full of innocent children, you will do it without even the slightest hesitation, or else—”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, interrupting him. I wasn’t sure why I was suddenly feeling bold, but I had a growing feeling that he needed me alive for whatever scheme he’d cooked up. Whether or not I’d have to pay back my flippant replies with interest when the job was over was something I should have kept in mind, but I was beyond caring. “You’ll rape and torture her and then rape and torture me and we’ll wish for death. I got that part already.”

  “You should be more careful of your tone,” Petrovski said. His eyes said I would definitely be paying interest on my attitude at a later date. Maybe even a balloon payment.

  “I’m just saying. You don’t have to keep threatening me. I’m smart, remember? I get it, you’ll kill us and it will be miserable. Enough with the threats. Get to the point.”

  He leaned back in the rolling chair. “The point, Billy, is that the Dolgoprudninskaya have entered into a truce with us. They know we would never hit their operation like that, since you already know we do business through them as well.”

  “It’s not smart to have a gun battle and a robbery in a shopping mall.”

  “Exactly. The scrutiny from the police… it isn’t good for business. Luckily Gennady is a pillar in the community and above reproach. Since the heat, as you Americans call it, affects us, we offered to help them track down this gang of thieves that would bring us and many others such trouble.”

  “And so you got a truce going until you found us.”

  “Even better.” His grin made him look like a human Cheshire Cat. “Because the Solntsevskaya have apprehended the crew responsible, though two of them perished during the capture, we have negotiated not just a truce, but a very powerful partnership.”

  “I thought you guys hated each other,” I said. I took another sip, emptying the bottle. I waffled on asking for another, deciding to wait.

  “Hate is a strong word, and incorrect. We are rivals. In Moscow, we each control territory, much like here, but it goes deeper in our culture. They want our territory and our business, and we want theirs. Sometimes it can become a bit… unpleasant, but that’s the nature of predators, yes?”

  “So it’s just a business thing?”

  “You have an expression here, very popular especially in Texas. You fight one bean, you fight the whole burrito. Have you heard this?”

  “Yeah, since I was a kid. My dad said it was around even before him.”

  The phrase had been intended as an insult to Mexicans, Hispanics of any origin really, but what it had always sounded like to me was jealousy that even when Mexicans were fighting each other, if an outsider needed an ass whipping, they’d put aside their feud for later and band together to kick the shit out of whoever needed it.

  “Unfortunately,” Petrovski said, looking disappointed, “I have not heard a good one for Russians yet. Potatoes and vodka does not have the same ring to it.”

  “Sure. So?” I asked, seeing him space off a bit as if trying again to think of a good phrase for his comrades when it came to ganging up on any non-comrades.

  “Yes, so. This is a perfect opportunity for both organizations to consolidate and become powerful enough to squeeze out the Italians, the Mexicans, on this side of the border,
anyway, the blacks, the Asians, anyone other than who we allow to have a slice of the pie.”

  “Okay. So who do I gotta kill to make this happen?”

  “You will appreciate this, as a killer of men, and as a man of much intelligence.” He chuckled to himself. “Well, you might not appreciate all of it. But it is the end result that counts, isn’t it?”

  “Okay, Comrade Riddler. Who do I have to kill?”

  “You should learn to have a sense of humor, Billy.”

  “You should maybe not have your henchmen tenderize my face for an hour.”

  “Ah, but that is all part of the plan.”

  “I don’t like this plan already. I vote for a new plan that doesn’t involve me getting a beatdown.”

  “I’m afraid the plan has already been set in motion. In fact, it was three weeks ago that I personally called Gennady and told him that I would do everything in my power to help track down the thieves. A day after that, Moscow went into a truce. A week ago, I informed him that we were in possession of his goods, as well as the surviving, though just barely, criminal.

  “He of course demanded justice personally, but I put him off. I told him that you had been a particularly ugly thorn in our sides for a while, robbing our dealers, knocking off our gambling operations, and I wanted a few days to extract my vengeance. I assured him that you would be more than intact enough to withstand whatever he decided to punish you with. For a while anyway. Because of our truce, and because I hold you and the stolen items, the important ones at least, it is to be the act that cements our new partnership. Think of yourself as a wedding gift!”

  “You’re going to turn me over to Gennady Konovalov?”

  I felt my bladder trying to let go, and took a flash of pain in my head and kidneys as I clamped down on it inside. The Dolgos would make whatever Petrovski could think of look tame. Petrovski would torture me just to be an asshole, or to make a point. Konovalov would torture me in anger, resentment, revenge. He’d be whatever was lower than merciless about it.

  “Yes, I’m sorry about that.” He didn’t look sorry about it at all. In fact, his smile grew even wider somehow. I thought it might be the concussion that I’d surely suffered at some point over the last few hours making reality a bit wonky. “But, if you do this job correctly, and I have the utmost confidence in you after what I’ve seen you accomplish so far, you won’t be in his clutches for more than a few minutes.”

  “Lay it on me, Doc.” He gave me a puzzled look. I shook my head, a mistake I couldn’t seem to stop making, and waved it off with a heavy hand. “Tell me what I need to do.”

  “First, you will need to suffer a daily… education. I am going to tell you the plan, and you are going to memorize it. You must memorize it, or you will be killed.” He raised his hand before I could protest about the torture and rape stuff. “Not by me, but by Gennady and his men. But you must play the part as well as you did at the mall. Even better, as instead of even odds, you will be the only person present that is not a Russian connected to either organization.

  “Unfortunately, since I’ve already told Gennady that I needed to keep you for a few days to punish you for your transgressions against me, you will need to get deeper into character.” He chuckled as if he’d made a drama club joke. “Each day my assistants will educate you on the plan. I have no doubt that as they help you learn, your face will sell your act without any issues.”

  “Wait,” I said, holding up my hands. “I’m supposed to get the shit beat out of me daily just so I look like I’ve had the shit beat out of me for a few days? You’re insane. A sadistic, insane, psycho.”

  “Billy,” he said, his voice full of authority suddenly, “do you know what will happen if Gennady and his top men are removed from the equation? They will not be able to tell their subordinates that the truce was a ruse, a sham, as you Americans say. They will think it is still a truce, in America and in Moscow. We will move on them quickly and take over their territories, their businesses. Some will live, and they will work for us the same as they worked for their previous masters.”

  “So what?”

  “So, when there is no more Dolgoprudninskaya, there will only be Solntsevskaya. That means I will need a smart, capable, loyal American to help with the transition of their assets. You will never be one of us, my friend, but if you are successful, you will have proved me right that you are a very valuable asset. Besides, you will enjoy the benefits of a manager’s salary.” He winked at me. “Your pretty girlfriend will appreciate the easy life, no doubt.”

  I gritted my teeth. I hated him, but I had no choice. Besides, there was a chance I might pull this off, whatever the hell it was that he seemed impatient to tell me about. Maybe not impatient. More like it was such a great plan that he couldn’t keep it to himself and had to brag about it to me. I wasn’t keen on the daily beating part. I’d definitely be keeping score as to whichever Ivans participated.

  “So,” I said, “I get my ass kicked every day for a few days, then you hand me over to him? Do I have a grenade in my pants or something in this scenario?”

  Petrovski began to explain the plan to me. He couldn’t help sounding like he was Patton and about to kick the Germans out of France. He also couldn’t help stressing to me every thirty seconds or so that the whole plan hinged on me convincing Konovalov that I’d been beaten to within an inch of my life. Other than the gut-clenching fear that swept through me at regular intervals, by the end, I had to admit that it was a pretty good plan.

  Actually, it was a stupid, crazy, Hollywood action movie plan, but that’s what made it viable. Gangsters, real gangsters, all know the difference between a fight on the screen and a fight in real life, a real gunshot wound versus a movie one, whatever. They’d never believe that a plot right out of the dubbed movies they pirated and watched a hundred times, and were often the only source of their English vocabularies, would happen right before their eyes.

  I didn’t actually believe it either, but I didn’t get a say. At least he let me call Tanya to let her know I wouldn’t be home for a few days. It would keep her from doing something dumb, like running around town asking if anyone knew where I was. I told her to go shopping, learn to play tennis, spend a day at the spa, whatever she wanted. I kept expecting my voice to crack at any moment, but I made it to the end without sounding like a scared little boy that might be on his way to his own death.

  Less than a minute later, a couple of Ivans gave me the short version of the next three days. Apparently this was payback for Petrovski having to change the carpets out in his penthouse, as if it was my fault his thugs shot my two friends to death there. I resigned myself to the fact that even if Petrovski had thrown them down an elevator shaft, or had taken them out to the desert and made them dig their own graves, I’d have been made to pay no matter what. It was supposed to be a lesson for me. It was, but not in the way Petrovski wanted.

  SEVEN - My First Job

  I huddled in the corner of the room. I couldn’t feel my face, and it didn’t help that the air conditioner had never shut off. It was so cold I couldn’t feel my toes or the ends of my fingers. The two Ivans that kept an eye on me seemed just fine, but then they got to get a little blood pumping every few hours when they’d quiz me, then give me a few reminders with their fists to do better on the next test.

  By the third day, I was delirious. The concrete floor sapped every ounce of heat from my joints, and the fresh blood that would drip onto my shirt every few hours would instantly become cold and sticky. I went through stages of fear, begging, rage, and now I was sure I was hallucinating. All I’d been able to think about for the last few hours was how upset I was that Petrovski had ordered me to buy an expensive suit just so he could ruin it. There was enough blood in the fibers of my clothing to give someone a transfusion.

  At some point, the door opened. I jerked up, my cold joints instantly protesting. I hadn’t even realized I’d been sleeping. My dreams had all been about how I was freezing to death in a bl
oody JC Carlton custom tailored three-piece while trying to sleep with my hamburger face on the cold concrete. I wasn’t even sure I was awake until the two Ivans snatched me off the floor.

  “It is time, my new friend.” Petrovski was sharply dressed, his suit and tie as impeccable as his finely styled hair that almost did a perfect job of hiding the fact that more than half of it was hair plugs. “When this is over, we will celebrate for days!”

  “I’m going to kill you,” I said. My ears realized after the words left my mangled lips that it sounded more like ang onoo krrroo.

  Petrovski snapped his fingers and I received a face full of cold water. Before I could do anything, the plastic lip of the water bottle was against my lips. They burned just from breathing air over them. The rough pressure from the bottle made them feel like a fireworks factory going up in flames. I didn’t cry out though. I drank as much as I could before the bottle was taken away. A black hood was pulled over my head. I felt like a prisoner in a third-world country being led to his execution.

  *****

  I have no idea how long we rode in the car anymore than I knew where we’d finally ended up. I could hear the sounds of heavy machinery in the distance, and the unmistakable scent of both the ocean and oil refineries meant we were most likely at one of the many access docks within the area. Probably Galveston, but maybe not. I didn’t get out to this area of town much, regardless of what area of town we were in. It was too hard to steal oil, and it was even harder to fence it.

  I heard doors open, the sounds of feet hitting the pavement, the bounce of the suspension as weight left the Mercedes. The trunk catch popped near my head, then hands were pulling me out. Two Ivans dragged me along, one on each side with a vice grip on my biceps. The sounds that littered industrial docks wafted across the distance, less muffled now than before, but still too far away for me to even guess at anything other than I was in a lot of trouble.

  A coded knock was followed by the sound of something sliding back, maybe a speakeasy panel, maybe a security bolt. Being blind, beaten, and dragged along to meet a man who wanted to probably watch me eat my own balls before he choked me to death with his bare hands made it difficult to keep a steady thought in my head. Other than the obligatory one that kept reminding me I was going to die.