Chapter 53

Yaroslav

I ’ve been biding my time, waiting for the right time to strike. Mine and Kim’s plan is going well so far, Sharkozi seems to be buying it. After reading Marta’s diary and learning about the flash drive, the first thing I wanted to do was rush to the safety deposit box, but I had to be careful not to get followed.

Whether by intention or design, I also happen to have a security box of my own here. Perhaps Marta knew and thought it would arouse less suspicion, or it was just divine luck. Either way, I decided to access it too while I’m here.

First, I access Marta’s box. Luckily, I must be an approved user as, using the code Marta left me, I’m easily given access. After the professional teller discreetly leaves me alone in the room, I open the box.

Inside are just two items. A simple yet beautifully engraved locket on a silver necklace, and a plain black USB drive. Marta is smart, I suspect the USB is either a decoy or contains additional information. It’s the necklace that intrigues me. It’s valuable, but not enough to warrant being held in a safety deposit box. My curiosity piqued, I open the locket.

Inside there is a small photograph of my family, Mama, Papa, Marta, David and I, it must have been taken shortly before our parents died. Carefully, I remove the photo from the locket. Behind it is a flash drive, no bigger than a thumbnail. This must be it.

I put it back behind the photo where I found it, pocketing it and the USB stick. I’ll have to find a way to look at them later, away from prying eyes. In their place, I put the diary and photograph of Helena Sharkozi I found amongst Marta’s things.

Next, I pull out my box. It’s larger than Marta’s, containing cash in various currencies, a gun, and several different passports, each with new aliases for me, should I ever need to quickly get away. There’s also the pendant, the one Marta mentioned. While I might not have understood its importance, I knew there was a reason my father never took it off, why he entrusted it to me in his will.

I take out the pendant, put it on around my neck, and reseal the box. With everything I need secure on my person, I press the buzzer signaling to the staff that I’m done.

Moments later, the bank teller comes to escort me out. “Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Volkov?” she asks politely, her heels clacking on the floor as we walk across the marble-floored foyer.

“No, thank you,” I reply.

“Oh, and on behalf of the bank, please accept our condolences for your loss. Please do pass on our apologies to your father. We understand it’s a difficult time, but protocol is protocol, I’m afraid. We can only allow approved people access,” she says, her voice wavering slightly under her professional facade.

The Volkovs have a reputation that proceeds us, she’s probably fearful of losing her job if she’s upset one of us. I don’t care about her career concerns, I’m more worried about what she’s just said.

“I’m sorry, did you just say my father came in?” I ask.

“Yes, did he not tell you? A short while after your sister’s passing, he came to try to access her safety deposit box. I tried to explain that it was only you who could access it, but he was most adamant, citing your coma and that you were incapacitated. But without a will or any other legal rights, we stick to protocol which is to not allow access,” she seems even more flustered now she’s let it slip when I wasn’t aware.

I wonder how to react to this new development. Clearly, Innokentiy or someone else was posing as our dead father to try to get at the box. Which also means they knew about it, and that they were onto Marta. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Brenda,” I say, noting the woman’s nametag. “I’m afraid there must be a mistake though, my father is dead. Could you describe the man who came in?”

Brenda’s eyes widen in alarm. “Oh my goodness,” she stammers, “I didn’t think… he had a Russian accent, and I thought I could see a family resemblance, and….” her eyes dart around as she starts to babble in her panic, wondering about the repercussions of such a security breach. “He was old enough, I believed to be your father, he had the same color eyes as you, and he dressed well...” she says, her face contorted with concentration as she tries to recall.

“That sounds like it could be my uncle, he raised us like a father following my parents’ death, that must be where to confusion came from,” I reply smoothly.

Immediately she sags with relief. “Oh yes, that’s a relief, though as I say, we didn’t go against protocol, and he wasn’t allowed access. If any other name had been on the list, we’d of course have run all the necessary ID checks before letting him in. But as it was…” she’s still clearly concerned for her job.

“Of course, it sounds as though you did everything properly. Tell me, have you seen my uncle in here before that?” I ask trying to seem casual.

She shakes her head, “No, that was the first time.”

“So you’re not aware of an Innokentiy Volkov, he doesn’t bank with you?”

I can see she’s conflicted between telling me that she can’t give out personal information and upsetting me by declining to reply, after all, I could cause big problems for her. In the end, her fear of me wins out.

“No, he doesn’t. Not that I am aware of.”

“Could you check?” I ask.

Again, she worries at her lip.

“I promise, I won’t ask for any personal information or access, I’d just like to know how he knew about Marta’s box and why he wanted to access it,” I say conspiratorially.

She nods, “Okay.”

We head over to a private area where she accesses the computer base. “No, I can’t see an Innokentiy Volkov on our system at all.”

A thought occurs to me. “What about his wife, Zinaida Petrova?”

She doesn’t hesitate this time, her eyes light up at the name. “Oh yes, Mrs. Petrova is a very loyal customer, such a lovely woman. I didn’t know she was part of your family.”

I immediately know that this must be a fake, especially since Brenda seems to be reacting as though she’s met her. Zinaida’s never stepped foot in the US, she actively expresses a disdain for all things American.

“Yes, she is a lovely woman, have you met her sons too?” I ask, acting as though nothing is wrong, I wonder if my suspicions are correct.

“Yes, such sweet boys, they were in only the other day!” she exclaims, happy now I seem to not be pushing the security breach.

“Thank you for your time, Brenda, you’ve been most helpful,” I say with my most charming smile. “Let’s keep this little conversation between us, shall we?”

She blushes pink at the flirtation, “Yes, of course, our little secret,” she agrees.

It seems that for whatever reason, Helena Sharkozi has been posing as Zinaida Petrova. What the fuck is Innokentiy and Sharkozi’s end goal here?

Whatever they’re planning, it can’t be good. Innokentiy is playing a dangerous game with two of the most powerful Bratvas in Russia, and he’s dragging the Volkov family into the thick of it.

I hope the smoking gun I need is on one of these flash drives. Otherwise, Innokentiy could take us all down with him.

***

As I arrive back at the house, I’m greeted by one of my men. “Good afternoon, Pakhan. Your Uncle Innokentiy is here requesting an audience with you. He’s currently waiting for you in the living room.”

Shit, I could really do without this right now. I wanted to review the contents of the flash drives before I confronted Innokentiy. With little time I don’t have much choice of hiding places.

“Tell him I’ll be ready for him in my office in a moment,” I instruct my man.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I frantically think through the best course of action. I remove my father’s pendant, placing it in the safe. I quickly download the contents and make a copy of the USB stick, placing the original inside the safe, too.

A knock at the door indicates that my time’s up. Innokentiy’s here. He never was one for waiting until he’s called, always barging past my men like he owns the place. The copy of the USB and the locket will have to remain on my person for now.

I only hope that Innokentiy has no idea that I’m onto him and this visit is more of the same. I’ve not confided in anyone about the diary or my suspicions, so I’m confident the element of surprise is still on my side.

“Come in,” I call out, my voice steady and sure.

Innokentiy struts in. Either he’s overly confident of his position or he has no idea that I’ve discovered his betrayal. It takes every ounce of my strength not to kill him on the spot. It would be an impulsive mood, one that could cost me. After all, I’ve no idea what the Petrovs know or believe. If he’s fed false information about me to them, enough to have tried to kill me once before, then there’s no telling how they might react to me killing him.

“Uncle, this is an unexpected visit. I trust everything is well,” I say, gesturing for him to sit on the other side of my desk.

“I come bearing news, nephew, news I believe you’ve been long anticipating,” Innokentiy says smugly. He eyes up the expensive whiskey in the crystal decanter by the window, adding, “I believe it even calls for celebration, a toast.”

I know better than to refuse him, Uncle Innokentiy’s always been partial to a drink and I’ll get no sense out of him until I give him what he wants. I nod my assent, and he pours a generous glass for each of us.

“On the rocks,” I instruct as he turns to come back.

He tuts. “Such vulgarity, watering down good whiskey,” he says, complying anyway, the ice clinking in the glass as he comes back to sit down again, handing over the drink.

“So, tell me Uncle, what is this big news?” I ask, feeling impatient given the charade he’s putting on.

“Roman Sharkozi is dead,” he announces, looking proud of himself.

“What? On whose orders? Sharkozi was mine,” I growl. With Sharkozi dead, we have no leverage against his son to try to get Kim’s grandmother back. Not that I’d have ever made a trade, but still. I also didn’t get another chance to interrogate him myself, with the new information I’ve learned, I wanted to see his reaction for myself.

“I killed him,” Innokentiy declares, “He finally confessed to killing your parents, my beloved brother, and I just snapped. I could not tolerate the insult, you are not the only one to hate this man, to have lost your father.”

He sounds so convincing. If he’d told me this only a few days ago I’d have fallen for it. Now I know the truth about him, I can see that it’s all a performance. I can only assume that Roman Sharkozi is dead because Innokentiy or even Bogdan were worried he might talk, or it was a mercy killing, he was never coming out alive.

I can’t react the way I want to without giving myself away. Innokentiy can’t know that I’m aware that Bogdan sent Kim here to spy, that I know they have Emma Walsh, that I know he’s tied up with the Sharkozis and working with them against me. So, I swallow my rage and raise my glass.

“You’re right, Uncle, you deserve your revenge as much as I do. Na zdorovie ” I say, knocking back the whiskey in one gulp.

It tastes odd. Innokentiy doesn’t touch his drink. He gives me a small, satisfied smile and I realize my mistake too late. He’s drugged me.

I don’t have much time before the effects kick in. If I’m about to die, I have to save Kim, my child, and David. I have to make sure the information I have on me goes to them so that they can avenge me. So that my unborn child can one day take back what’s rightfully theirs.

I launch to my feet, reaching for the gun I keep in my desk drawer, I plan to take Innokentiy down with me. I pull the trigger, and it fires loudly but nothing happens, Innokentiy is still watching me with a smug look on his face. He must have anticipated this and replaced my bullets with blanks. I launch myself at him, but already I can tell I’m close to losing consciousness and I stumble, falling to the ground.

Innokentiy stands over me, watching me with a curious and triumphant expression. “Sorry to do this, son, it’s nothing personal. Family is family, but business is business. An agreement is worth more than money, and the agreements I’ve made are worth a lot.”

“Debt is red when paid, and you owe a life debt. Your debts will be repaid sooner or later,” I reply, throwing my own take on a Russian saying back at him.