Anatoly Medlov (17 page)

The fat man laughed. “It is okay. I am stronger than the doctors know.” He tapped his chest. “I am Vor, after all.”

Anatoly nodded. “That you are.” He looked at the platter. “Where are my manners? I fixed this for you.” He took the silver tongs and placed the food on the man’s plate. “My very own version of the Cuban tamale just for you.”

Anatoly narrowed his eyes on him.

“Just for me?” the man asked, looking at the food strangely.

Anatoly smiled. “Funny story. We’ve been looking over the numbers for our good Anti-Castro friends who purchase a great deal of product from us for their cause. And one thing that we have noticed is that since we put you in charge, while the inventory has gone up, the revenue hasn’t. Plus, a few of the shipments were light.”

The man swallowed hard. But Anatoly continued in a light voice with a pleasant smile.

“I had a few people look into your purchases and income over the last year. It’s seems that everyone is in a recession accept you.”

“Now, wait just a minute, Anatoly. This is not what it seems.”

Anatoly raised his hand. “Please, let me finish. From what we have discovered, you bought a beautiful new place in South Beach, two new Bentleand a few new mistresses on our dime. Then there is the matter of your three children in private school and one away at boarding school.”

“I’m sure that you’ll also see that I have created new revenue streams in the last year to be able to do those things.” He wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Well, the last shipment that we set up to transport with you was a fake. We paid you to send our product to us, and we painstakingly counted each piece of inventory to make sure that we were not accusing a fellow brother of something that was not true. And you know what? It was short.”

The man tried to interrupt, but Anatoly put his finger over his lip
and motioned for him to be silent. He continued in a low vice. “Obviously, we must respect you,
brat
. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. And you know who I am. Don’t you?”
“
Da
, you are Boss Medlov.”

Anatoly smiled. “But who am I?”

“You are Czar.”

Anatoly smiled sheepishly. In a whisper, he said words with reverence. “I am Czar, which means that I don’t move a finger. But I have moved it for you. And I am here with my date to dine with you even though you have failed me.”

The man sat up in his seat, dragging his chair as he did so. “Tell me what I must do, and I will do it.”

Anatoly pointed at his food. Then he placed a tamale in front of the man. “I’ll have just a few bites here before I take them over to my date. Now, I just want you to eat with me.” Anatoly waved the smoke rising from the food. “Smell that. It’s amazing.”

The man picked up his fork.

Anatoly watched. “I made yours very special.” He smiled. “It has specially bred, super hot, killer Habanera with my three-alarm chili sauce.”

Shaking the man put the fork back down.

Anatoly shook his head. “Do not offend me again by denying a simple request to dine with me. Please continue.”

The man felt his food nearly leap to his throat. With the fork to his mouth, he eyed the young man, who sat back in his chair with his legs crossed. “I do not wish to go this way,” he said solemnly.

“Well, you love to eat.” Anatoly pointed at the man’s heavy size. “You love to drink.” Anatoly pointed at the large bottle of vodka. “You love to smoke.” Anatoly pointed at the cigar. “It’s only right that you go in style and reminded of the family that you tried to fuck and the people that you
surely
fucked with their shorted product. Look at it this way. You can die with or without a knife stuck in your abdomen. You can die rest assured that your family is still safe, and that you had one last mediv> r you can run home, and I can come for you later tonight with family sleeping.”

The man put the fork to his mouth. The heat singed his lips.

Anatoly smiled. “You’ll want to do that in big portions. Otherwise, I’m afraid it will be more tortuous than it has to be.”

The man could barely swallow the hot tamale. He cringed. His eyes watered and steamed from the pepper. But bravely, he took another large bite. The pain consumed him. His own tongue boiled and blistered. Dropping the fork, he grabbed the side of the table coughed. Dark blood ran from the burned sides of his mouth.

“It doesn’t pay to be greedy does it,
brat
? It’s the very greed that has brought you down,” he said with a smile.

Anatoly looked back to see Destiny obliviously sampling the appetizers with her back turned to them. He turned back quickly to the man and smiled. “One more bite for the road. I don’t have all night.”

The fat man gasped suddenly and grabbed his left side. Leaning back in the chair, eyes averted to the ceiling fan high in the rafters, he moaned, unable to talk due to his mouth burning on fire, then dropped his fork.

Anatoly moved his napkin and screamed. “Shit! Vasily, call 911. Igor is having heart attack!”

Destiny quickly turned from her food to see the man staring up in the air and holding his heart.

“Oh my goodness,” she said, scooting from her chair. She quickly ran over to him, but Anatoly knew that Igor was already dead.

“Why is he bleeding?” Destiny asked, signaling for Vasily to help her get him on the ground.

“Ulcers,” Anatoly answered. “He said that he could handle them. He eats this food all the time.”

“Help me lay him down. Is someone on the phone with the 911?” Destiny screamed out.

“
Da
, the hostess is calling now,” Vasily said, struggling to get the fat man on the ground. He looked up at his boss, who stood watching the entire event play out.

“What are you doing?” Anatoly asked, standing beside the body.

“Checking his heart.” She placed her head on his chest. She could hear nothing. As she went to open his mouth, she saw the blood and winced away. The guy could have HIV. “He doesn’t have a pulse.”

“The ambulance is on the way,” the hostess screamed, running from her podium. The other hostess stood petrified in place, staring at the dead man.

“I need to administer CPR,” Destiny said, adjusting his head to ar his air waves. She put her finger to his neck to check once more for a pulse.

Anatoly smirked at how her mouth would burn, but he allowed her to try. She did so, mouth burning, lips on fire from the transfer of the pepper, until the paramedic arrived.

They announced Igor dead on site.

After he was bagged and loaded on to the ambulance, Anatoly walked back inside the restaurant and sat down at the booth across from Destiny.

“I just don’t understand why a man would eat such deadly, hot peppers knowing that he had a heart condition,” she said, applying cool, wet paper towels to her singed mouth.

“People just don’t take their health seriously these days,” Anatoly said, tasting the cold appetizers. He shook his head. “You did all that you could do, Destiny. And it was a lot more than we could have done. I don’t even know CPR.” He re-lit his cigar and had Vasily bring over his plate of tamales. Carefully, he stuck his knife into his and tasted it.

Savoring the taste, he continued, “You were my witness for goodness sake. You saw that the man just keeled over after eating his tamales. I’m sure that the autopsy will show that he must have been very ill to have a heart attack just like that.” He snapped his fingers together. “Life is short.”

Destiny looked up at him in disgust. “I want to leave,” she said, grabbing her purse.

Anatoly nodded and tasted one more bite of his food. “Okay. I take you one more place, and then we’re on the plane out of here before it gets too late.”

“I want to go home now,” she insisted.

Anatoly stood up and touched her bare shoulder. “Please, give me change. This is not my fault. Allow me to take you one more place, and then we can go. And if you never want to go on another date with me, I will understand.” He looked over at his bodyguard. “Vasily, make sure that the car is out front. We’re leaving.” He turned to Destiny. “Do you want to take any of this to go?”

“No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t see how you can eat after a scene like that. The man had blood coming from his rectum.”

“I have very strong stomach.”

Chapter Eleven

South Beach, FL

Destiny had never been to South Beach, but she had seen countless shows on its upscale neighborhoods. Half an hour after trying to revive a dead gangster on a Cuban restaurant floor, she was being escorted through the private mansions of a South Beach community and silently asking herself why she had volunteered for this job.

She was sure that Agosto would be insane with anger when she returned, but she only hoped that he would also see that she was capable of going further than anyone had before her.

Hands clasped together, she looked out of the window as she debated how far she was willing to go. Harrison, her boyfriend, had been furious when she took the assignment, but in a way, this was his fault. He had gone undercover several times, and each time, he had been rewarded with promotion after promotion for a job well done. But because she was a woman, her department hardly ever put too much faith in what she could accomplish. She wanted more than anything to prove them wrong.

Anatoly looked over at her and smiled. “I’m taking you to party,” he said smiling. “Something to cheer you up.”

She looked over at him and tried to smile. “It’s that apparent, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “But trust me. Where we’re going, you’re going to have fun—just you and me.” He slipped his hand in hers.

When they arrived at the gated mansion on Michigan Avenue, luxury cars lined the street. Their car was parked in the garage, and they were escorted through the back of the house.

Beautiful women and attractive men danced, laughed and talked all around them. Each of them knew Anatoly. They hugged and kissed him, shook Destiny’s hand and raised their drinks to salute them.

Anatoly kept his hand tightly around Destiny’s in the crowd, shielding her from too much attention and letting everyone know that they were together. She actually felt safe with him, allowing herself to get closer, to move into his hard, muscular body.

“I feel underdressed,” she whispered into his ear as they stood by the piano talking to a blonde couple from Australia.

“You look great,” Anatoly said, touching her face. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure, what do they have?”

“What do
I
have?” he asked, correcting her.

“Is this your party?” she asked, looking around in shock.

“
Da
, this is my house,” he said with a grin. “Come on. I’ll take you upstairs on my private deck, and you and I can have drink.”

He led her without Vasily up the long, white stairwell to his master bedroom.

Opening the door for her, he allowed her to walk in front of him. Then he flicked on the lights, illuminating the swank space as he closed the door behind him.

“Wow, impressive,” she said, smiling. Trning towards him, she clasped her hands in front of her. “Is this where you try to take advantage of me?”

Anatoly walked over to his dresser drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Pulling the plastic from its rim top, he hit the bottom and wielded out a single cigarette. After he slipped one in his mouth, he extended his arm. “Want one?”

“No,” she said, putting down her purse. I’ll pass this time. Too much can kill you, you know.”

“A lot of things in this world can kill you.”

“Like...” she said, urging him to elaborate.

Anatoly shrugged his shoulders. “Hot Cuban food for one.”

She laughed.

Going to the balcony, he slid the glass door open and stepped out into the night air. The gusts of strong wind blew through his locks. He turned to her and motioned for her to join him. Turning back to the view, he looked over the waterway and smelled the hint of rain lacing the air.

“It’s so beautiful out here,” she said, leaning against the rail.