Chapter 4: London: A week later: The blackmail

CHAPTER 4

MIKI

LONDON – A WEEK LATER – THE BLACKMAIL

S tanding outside the coffee shop, my eyes narrowed on the man as I took him in. He wasn't much to look at, pretty average; nothing about him stood out. He was small and lean, with a thin, pinched face, slightly receding hairline, and small wire-rimmed glasses. At first glance, you would likely dismiss him as no threat. I knew better.

Nigel Simpson was a prominent criminal defence lawyer here in London and while he might not outwardly exude power, as I had been told I did, he was definitely powerful and no doubt highly intelligent. He wouldn't be so successful if he wasn't.

So, while I knew I could bring him easily to his knees with the information I now held on him, I would still need to watch the slimy little weasel. He wasn't someone that could ever be trusted, even with the threat of blackmail hanging over his head.

The guy was as corrupt as they came. It was that corruption that had caused him to be a part of several conspiracies against me and mine. He was also a man who had a tendency to play hard and break the law, even as he upheld it, and those tendencies would be his downfall. Starting today.

Opening the door of the coffee shop, I made my way towards him, with Vlad, my friend and bodyguard, following closely behind.

Fisting my hands, I took a deep breath to help stay in control, as I slipped into the seat opposite him.

Finally, I was face to face with one of the men who had been orchestrating attacks on my family and the Polish Mafia for some time. They'd brought misery and upset to us and for that, they would pay. I tampered down the rage I felt at having to wait to take revenge on this little weasel. I couldn't give in to it, not yet. For now, I needed him.

Simpson looked up from reading his newspaper, and his breath hitched when he recognised me. Trying to pretend otherwise, he lifted his coffee towards his mouth, "Can I help you, Mr… eh?" he asked.

However, from the slight trembling of his hand as he drank from his cup, it was all too obvious that he knew exactly who I was… and was afraid. Very good , he should be afraid.

"I believe you know exactly who I am, Mr Simpson. Now, regarding how you can help me, I want the name of the person you work for. The one who has been behind the attacks on my family and business," I stated, my voice sounding pleasant, my expression anything but.

"I do not know what you are talking about!" he exclaimed before standing and picking up his briefcase, ready to leave.

"Sit!" I told him firmly, remaining in my seat.

Vlad moved to block his exit.

Tilting my head slightly, I silently watched Simpson look around the busy coffee shop, contemplating what he should do next. I smirked. The guy was trying hard to look like he was unaffected by my presence. However, the slight increase in his breathing and the acrid stench of sweat told the truth. The guy was nervous as fuck, and I couldn't be happier by that.

As seconds ticked by, I observed his inner turmoil, which was written all over his face. That was unexpected, disappointing, even. Considering his job, I had thought he'd be much calmer under pressure and certainly more able to hide his emotions. I had obviously caught him off guard. Well, if nothing else, being able to read him so openly would work in my favour. It would make bending him to my will that much easier.

Finally, obviously unwilling to make a scene, he sunk back into his seat, and I smiled evilly as I passed a large brown envelope across the table.

"Open it," I told him and leaned back in my chair, keeping my posture relaxed.

Simpson reached for it, and a second later, he blanched.

After several more seconds of absolute silence, as he stared at the contents, he looked into my eyes.

"What exactly do you want from me?" he asked, gulping.

Got you, arsehole!

The disgusting bastard was a married man who liked to mess about with young men, rent boys not much older than his fourteen-year-old twin sons, and he also had a penchant for snorting cocaine while enjoying their company. And we had the photographs to prove it.

So, now he would give me the information I needed, or I would leak the photographs to the newspapers.

As a criminal defence lawyer, Simpson had a lot to lose. Not only would he want to avoid the cost to his reputation, but being married to one of London's top divorce lawyers, I assumed he would do anything to avoid the considerable cost of divorce, too. He was well and truly screwed, and he knew it.

The guy was mine; I owned him now and he would soon learn exactly what that meant.

"We will start with your boss's name, and we can do it the easy way or not; your choice," I smiled wider, not in the least bit friendly.

Simpson gulped loudly and looked down at the envelope again, contemplating his options. I gave him a minute to let the weight of his predicament sink in.

Finally, he put the contents back in the envelope and pushed it across the table towards me.

"Keep it; I have copies," I told him, and Simpson blanched again. So much so that I thought he was about to pass out on me. Geez, could this guy get any paler?

Letting out a long, ragged breath, he briefly closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he looked at me and I saw the internal debate going on inside him. I thought for a moment that he might have the balls to tell me to go screw myself, but then he looked away, and I knew he didn't.

Good. This man would tell me what I wanted to know, even if I had to take him somewhere more private and ensure that he did, but considering he was a prominent figure, I preferred to do it the easy way for now.

"Aidan Mathieson!" he finally said.

My eyes narrowed, and I frowned. The name was familiar, although I had never made his acquaintance.

"If I tell you what I know, will that be the end of it?" he asked.

When I said nothing, he continued talking, taking my silence for acquiescence, it seemed. Some of his colour returned, and he grew bolder, smirking as he spoke.

"I mean, a man like yourself knows all about the darker proclivities. Those of us with, shall we say, more specialised tendencies need to stick together. There's really no reason anyone else should find out about this. Am I right?" the little weasel said, licking his lips and darting his eyes around nervously.

My body tensed and my hands bunched into fists under the table as I held back the urge to smash the ugly fuck's face into a pulp. Instead, I forced myself to lean back and smirk.

Simpson returned it, obviously thinking I was agreeing with him. Stupid arsehole. Well, he would find out soon enough just how wrong he was, but in the meantime, it didn't hurt to let him think all he needed to do was co-operate and he wouldn't have to pay for his sins.

"Tell me everything, and hold nothing back," I said, my stare enough to imply the unspoken threats behind my words. It did the trick. The guy visibly paled again, gulping hard before finally regaining some of the composure he must have developed for the courtroom and nodding sharply in agreement.

As Vlad and I left the coffee shop a short time later, I couldn't stop my grin. I finally had the name of Nigel Simpson's boss. I was one step closer to making my family safer and eliminating the last of my enemies. Or so I hoped.

Trigger appeared beside us like a phantom, making Vlad grunt and take an unwitting step in front of me before he realised who it was. Thank god the guy was on our side because he could sneak up on a person faster than anyone could blink. Thankfully, he was one of my most trusted soldiers these days and was in charge of the guys assigned to trail Simpson.

"Watch him. We've got him by the balls, but I'm sure he'd do just about anything to weasel his way out of our hold," I told him.

"Will do, boss. Although I've got to say, I'm hoping he tries to do a runner. It's been a long time since I got to open up my baby and let rip. I'd love to give that bastard a run for his money," he replied, his entire face lighting up at the prospect.

"Well, if he does, be careful. No stupid antics and no fucking heroics," I warned, knowing it would fall on deaf ears.

"You bet, boss," he replied with a two-finger salute and a cheeky smile.

Chuckling, I shook my head as I watched him disappear down a side alley. Trigger had a way of making me smile despite myself. Even Vlad's lips twitched, his usual stoic expression dropping for a second. Since he'd been in my organisation, Trigger had embedded his way into my heart, and I considered him family. Just like I did Vlad.

Trigger had PTSD from his time as a sniper in the military. He'd been homeless and begging in the street outside our office building when Marko had met him five years ago, literally just after my parents were murdered. Marko had befriended him and persuaded me to give the guy a job with us. Despite being unsure of him, I reluctantly agreed because we had just started a war with the Albanians and needed more men.

However, Trigger had really proved his loyalty since then and, according to the therapist I made him go to, he was coping better with his symptoms. In fact, he was doing really well lately, and as a result, I had given him more responsibility. He seemed to actually be thriving on it. I was glad because I needed loyal guys, but I also needed them to be mentally stable. With hidden enemies all around, I couldn't afford for them to be anything else.

He was still a scruffy bastard that needed a bloody haircut, though. I smirked as I glanced down the alley and glimpsed long hair being shoved under a black motorbike helmet as he climbed onto the back of his ‘baby'. That was another thing that had drawn Marko and Trigger together, their love of all things motorbikes.

While I could ride bikes, I preferred cars myself and owned several sports cars. It was just such a pity that these days I was far too busy to take any of my cars out for a run. I understood Trigger's remark all too well; I longed for a chance to take one of my babies out and let rip too.

There was nothing quite like the thrill of speeding along an open road in a sports car. Being a Pakhan really sucked sometimes. There was always so much to do and so little time for anything else.

Although now that we had fewer enemies to worry about, perhaps I could find a little more time for myself. Maybe I could even delegate more. Nodding to myself, I decided that as soon as I dealt with Simpson and Mathieson, that was exactly what I would do. I needed to make some time for pleasure. However, in the meantime, I had enemies to bring down.

"Where to?" Vlad asked.

"Home," I said with a heavy sigh as I climbed into the passenger seat and leaned my head back.

Reluctantly, I pushed thoughts of time for pleasure to the back of my mind and as Vlad drove us home, I thought over what I'd learned from the weasel.

Nigel Simpson was a successful lawyer and made decent enough money, but he had expensive habits. Habits that needed to be funded.

That's why the disgusting little shit had been happy to get paid to cause issues for mine and Glowacki's families by this Aiden Mathieson person. It made sense since Simpson was based here in London while Mathieson was based in Glasgow.

Checking my watch, I contemplated phoning Glowacki to update him. He'd want to know what I'd found out. However, he and my aunt Marta were on their honeymoon, so I decided against it. There was no reason it couldn't wait another few days until he returned home. After everything he'd been through, he deserved to enjoy this time with his new wife trouble free.

In the meantime, I sent Marko a quick text so he could get to work on digging up everything he could on Mathieson.

Simpson had been Mathieson's go-between with Siri and the Broxys; before that, he had been conspiring with Siri and members of the Polish Mafia against Glowacki.

And he'd given the order to kill my beautiful sister.

Fuck, maybe I should have just killed the little weasel after all.

Every part of me thrummed with the need to hit something, but I kept my rage in check.

No, he could still be useful! I reminded myself.

But when he wasn't, then I would gladly ring the fucker's neck, slowly, with my bare hands.

He'd pay just like the others had.

We'd ended the Nowack brothers when they were released on bail after their arrest. Petrov hadn't been bailed. He'd been remanded into custody and went to trial. He was given ten years. Not willing to allow anyone else to kill the fucker, I had ordered him to remain unharmed in prison as we waited for the day of his release.

However, that came sooner than expected when he cut himself a deal after agreeing to testify in a trial against his cellmate. We grabbed him before he could be taken into protective custody.

My mouth pulled up into an evil grin as I relished the fact that Petrov wouldn't be testifying in any trial ever again.

It was through torturing Petrov that we'd learned about Siri's involvement in our troubles and through Siri we'd found out about Nigel Simpson and now through Simpson, we'd discovered it was Aiden Mathieson who was behind it all and apparently ultimately to blame for everything that had happened to my family since the war with the Albanians.

This whole thing was getting more and more complicated by the minute. My mind felt overwhelmed by it all. Just how many fucking enemies did we have?

This hidden enemy situation reminded me of a Russian Babushka doll, where each time you opened it up, there was another doll inside, until finally you got to the last one. I sure as hell hoped that Mathieson was the last of our enemies.

Anger filled every pore in my body, and I practically vibrated with restrained fury.

In the end, it didn't matter how many enemies we had or who had given the order to kill my sister, anyone who threatened the safety of my family would die.

Scraping my hand through my hair, my head ached with the depth of my responsibilities.

I needed a bloody drink!

As soon as I got home, I was going to pour myself a shot of my favourite vodka. Or maybe two!

Forcing myself to focus on the task at hand, I called Marko.

"How are things going?" I asked.

"It's done," he said.

Marko had been working on one of our cybercrime operations and had just confirmed we were now a couple of million pounds richer.

"Now I'm off out on my bike."

"Enjoy," I told him before hanging up.

He certainly deserved the break, and it was good for him to get out of his bloody office for a while. Even if I envied him his alone time.

God, what I wouldn't give to escape the confines of Pakhan and head out on my own once in a while.

I blew out a disgruntled breath. Maybe one day.

In the meantime, I consoled myself with the fact that at least the money Marko had syphoned out of an undeserving corporation's account would help finance the next stage of my plans.

Along with building up our legitimate businesses, we had been increasing our involvement in white collar crime, especially cybercrime. However, we only targeted the largest and most corrupt companies, and never individuals.

Fleecing an old person out of their life savings would not sit well with me; but fleecing millions from a dodgy corporation was entirely up my street, not to mention far more lucrative.

Not that I had a great understanding of that part of our business. That was Marko's domain. He was a fantastic hacker and ran a team of computer experts who worked on both our legitimate and not-so-legitimate operations. They were a great asset and one I would rely upon more in the future if my plans worked out as I hoped.

The first stage of my plans had been to cut down on the type of drugs we supplied and now we only dealt cocaine and Molly, or Mandy, as it was known here in the UK. The cocaine was brought in from South America via Europe, and we cut it in our lab before distributing it. We made our own Mandy from chemicals that we bought chemicals from China.

Soon I'd be handing that over to Glowacki. Once he'd rebuilt his Brotherhood and had enough men, that was. He'd lost quite a few during our recent attacks, so that had to be addressed first. Once he was back to full capacity, he'd take the drugs lab off our hands and take over our dealers and we'd be out of that side of things.

The next stage was to get rid of our responsibility for the drugs route, and I had begun negotiations about that already.

Those areas of my business were the ones that posed the biggest problem for my Brotherhood and family for two main reasons. First, they were the areas our enemies tried to muscle in on and had been the primary targets for the most recent attacks against us. Second, it was easier to get caught with those types of crimes. So, the sooner we got out of those areas, the better.

The issue was that if they fell into the wrong hands, it would be a disaster not only for my family here and our Russian and American counterparts, but it would also upset the balance of power and cause chaos in the UK. The consequences of any ensuing war would not only affect criminal organisations, but also innocent lives.

Therefore, it was absolutely vital that I chose the right organisations to take over from us. As Pakhan, it was my responsibility.

No bloody wonder I felt so overwhelmed at times. Not that I could show it. I always had to appear in control. Otherwise, I would appear weak, and that would make us an even bigger target than we already were.

My brother Ash was always going on about getting out of these areas sooner rather than later, but he didn't understand how complicated it was.

In our world, enemies held grudges for a long time and if I wasn't careful, I could make us vulnerable to revenge attacks. My whole brotherhood could end up wiped out if I made the wrong choices and aligned with the wrong people.

So, we needed people we could trust, who would work well with the other players in the game and also maintain a good relationship with my family and back us up should we need help against any future threats.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest. Exhaustion settled into every part of my being, draining me of energy.

The last few years, especially since Krissa's murder, had taken their toll on me. Sometimes it felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I longed for someone that I could share my life with; someone I could talk to, share my burdens with, and help me run things.

I huffed out a frustrated breath, annoyed at letting myself delve into those notions again. That was a pipe dream, and indulging in such dreams would only make me more depressed.

Instead, I shook off that line of thinking and opted for a nap. Turning my head slightly to get more comfortable, I let the world drift away, allowing myself a moment of escape from the ever-present heaviness of my responsibilities, for now.