Dmitry's Closet (34 page)

     "My boys," Agosto confirmed, proudly acknowledging his two-year old sons. "Baby," he looked over at his wife. "Can I get another plate?"

     "Sure," she said, going to cupboard.

     "I really don't want to be a bother, man," Sorrello insisted.

     "No bother. Ivy always cooks too much. It's good to have someone to help me and boys out." He smiled and took the plate from his wife. "Thank, baby."

     "Honey, I'm late." She reached in and kissed Agosto's lips quickly. "Boys, put your plates away and let's go."

     "Okay," they said in-sync, pulling away from the table and grabbing their small plates.

     "Agent Sorrello, it was pleasure to meet you. You'll have to come by again sometime," Mrs. Agosto said, grabbing her briefcase.

     "The pleasure's all mine, maim."

     Agosto saw them off then returned to the kitchen where Sorrello sat at the table.

     "Alright," he said as he made his way back over the counter. "You want some coffee?"

     "Yeah, sure," Sorrello said, looking around the large brightly colored kitchen. "How old is this house?"

     "Over a hundred years old."

     Agosto sat the coffee cup in front of Sorrello. "Ivy made us move into it from down the street when she found out she was pregnant again.
We needed more room."

     "Pregnant? She doesn't look pregnant."

     "She is. Couple months now."

     "You guys are a baby factory, huh?"

     "Yeah, guess so."

     "Well, your place is sure nice."

     "Thanks." Agosto smiled.

     "Look, it may be a little too late to say, but I'm sorry if I ever said anything to offend you... now that I know that your wife's black... African-American." He stumbled over his words.

     "It's cool, man. You didn't know."

     Why didn't you ever say anything?"

     "You have to learn to pick your battles," Agosto sat down in front of him with his own cup and scratched his stubby beard. "I don't work for the NAACP; I work for the MPD. More often than not, people in this city and on this force are going to have something negative to say about race. You can't always be the verbal advocate. You have to walk the walk."

     "I hear that," Sorrello said, ready to move on. "So, have you heard from Royal?"

     "No. I gave her my card. Something will pop up. You get anything on the radar from Dmitry."

     "My source told me there's going to be a big meeting tonight at the restaurant."

     "While it's open?"

     "Probably going to close early tonight. I figure we can head down there a little after dusk." Sorrello scooped his spoon into the hot grits, covered in real butter and sprinkled with salt and pepper.

     "Is it good?"

     Sorrello looked up and smiled. "Does Ivy have a sister?

∞♥∞

     The bodyguard at the front of the Medlov complex met Cory at the gate and escorted his little white Jetta Volkswagen to the front of the house. Once he was announced, he was sent down to the solarium to wait on Dmitry, who was still upstairs getting dressed.

     Cory had never been to Dmitry's house, and in guests' normal fashion, he was transfixed by its size and architecture. He stood in the large glass room admiring the beautiful flowers and plants and looking out into the vast, finely manicured back yard. With his hands tucked into his pockets, he marveled at what money could buy. Calm. Peace. The ability to forget that a war was waging only feet from your door step.

     Cory considered himself to be a good cop in a bad situation. He had chosen his mother's life over his moral obligations and only hoped that in the end, he did not have to pay the ultimate price for his choices. And no matter what, his mother would be alive; that was all that truly mattered. However, looking at the lavish lifestyle of his pseudo-boss, he often wondered if a fifty-grand-a-year job was good enough, when he could clearly make more for his children and his wife working on the other side of the law.

     "So, you got my message," Dmitry said, walking into the room, fully dressed in a YSL black suit and tie.

     Cory turned quickly from the view. "Yeah. The shop is closed."

     Dmitry walked up to Cory with a large envelope in his hand and passed it to him. He stopped and looked at the sun shining through the glass panes.

     "Beautiful, isn't it? I never get a chance to come down here anymore, but I've always loved this room. When I bought the home, this was the best selling point for me. I, of course, had to make some alterations and get thicker glass," he tapped his knuckles on the bullet-proof window. "You can never be too safe when you're a gun dealer."

     "I've never been in a solarium this damn big in a house." Cory shook his head.

     "Well, now you have." Dmitry snapped his fingers and the man standing in the doorway brought Cory a small leather satchel. "Anatoly cannot stay here and watch over Royal because his obligation is to the men,
but you can.
I don't have any weapons in this house outside of the ones that the men carry on them, which are registered for liability reasons with the feds. So, this is a little insurance for me while we are gone today."

     Cory looked in the bag to find four Glocks and stocked clips for his use.

     "This is a lot of fire power. Are we expecting someone?"

     "No. But I'd rather be safe than sorry." Dmitry turned and walked to door with his bodyguards. "She's pregnant, you know." He stopped and looked back, faintly showing a proud smile.

     Cory looked up surprised. "Wow. Congrats."

     "You have to protect her with your life, Cory, until I can get her out of Memphis for good."

     "What's my cover story?"

     "You've just come to visit her while the shop is being worked on. Stay by her side until I return."

     "I will," Cory committed.

     Dmitry nodded his head. "Good. There are guards around the perimeter of the home. No one should disturb you. Should they. use the guns and call me immediately. If I can't get to her, you know what to do."

     "Yeah. I know the drill."

     "Thank you. You have been most reliable." With that Dmitry walked out of the room, and left Cory alone.

     When Cory was sure that Dmitry had gone for good, he curiously opened the large envelope to find bundles of crisp one hundred dollar bills and a note that said, "For your trouble."

     Retirement looked closer than expected for him. He nodded his head, feeling a little better about his decision, better about his position in general.

∞♥∞

     Dmitry found Royal upstairs in her little office before he left. With the news of the baby and the move, she was anxious to get started on a new business plan for a shop in Prague. The idea of owning a shop in another country scared her senseless and excited her at the same time.

     She sat typing away at her computer behind her desk and looking down on the notes that she had written in her notebook hours before.

     She looked up when Dmitry walked inside of the room. He was different now, wearing a different face, one she had only learned recently. He was immaculate in his suit, commanding in with his regal looks.

     "You look different now that I know what you are," she said absently.

     "How?" He walked over to her with a large Louis Vui-ton bag in his hand.

     "Maybe like Eve saw Adam after she ate the apple," she raised her brow and sighed.

     "This is not good analogy. They both ate apple in that parable. You didn't expose anything life altering. That was all me."

     "Are you forgetting the baby?"

     Dmitry smiled. No, how could he ever forget about the baby.

     "What are you doing?" he asked, changing the subject. He could tell that she was still clearly agitated by the entire notion of his true identity.

     "Working." Her fingers tapped the keys.

     He walked behind the desk, set the bag beside her and placed his large hands on her shoulders. "I have a lot of loose ends to take care of today."

     She looked up at him.

     "What does that mean, Dmitry?" She finally understood that he spoke in code, therefore requiring direct questioning of his activities.

     "I'll be home late."

     "Should I be worried?"

     "You should never be worried. Haven't I always taken care of you?"

     "It's not me that I'm worried about."

     "Well I am."

     "What's this bag?" She opened in and looked inside. Surprised, Royal looked up at him for an explanation. "That is just in case, I'm
really
late getting home."

     She stared at him quietly with tears in her eyes. "You can't just go off and leave me alone, you know. I don't care how much money is in this damned bag. It won't make a bit of difference if you're dead."

     "I don't plan to die, and I don't plan to leave you." He took her face in his hands and kissed her lips gently. "There is a private jet waiting for you in the event that I am…" He looked down at the ground. "There is a new home for you in Prague, a nice shop already purchased. It's on a cobblestone road like I promised."

     "What does any of that matter, if I cannot have it with you?"

     "I plan to come back to you tonight and every night for the rest of my life, but should my plans change, I need to make sure that my child and my soon-to-be wife are protected and safe. There is enough money for you to make sure that you live well for a thousand lifetimes."

     Royal nodded. "You have to find a way to come back to me, Dmitry." Tears fell down her cheeks. "Don't you love me more that you love them?"

     "Yes. I do," he whispered. It was the truth, but he felt a strange betrayal to the Vory v Zakone for saying it aloud. It went against every code of the Thieves-In-Law to love and cherish her as much as he did.

     "Then just leave with me now. We can get on the plane and go away and no one has to know where we are." Her words were covered in agony. She looked up at him in pain and complete confusion.

     "Don't you know if I thought that could be, we would have done it a moon ago. They will only come after us, if I don't do this right. They will come after our child."

     They were quiet. Their eyes read each others.

     Royal finally gave him a disapproving look.

     "Well, what more is there to say?" she asked.

     "Say that you love me and that you'll forgive me for this, and you'll be mine forever when I return."

     The tears rolled down her neck and onto her t-shirt. "I love you... I forgive you… " She bit her lip. "And when you come back, I'll be yours forever."

     "I love you, too." He kissed her hands. "Forever."

Chapter 27

     Near five in the afternoon, the sun had already set over Memphis leaving a clear, crisp night with faint stars in the sky. Cars busied the streets of downtown headed home from long days at the towering office buildings. Blinking traffic lights and street lamps lit up the skyline while crowds of people held close to their coats as they marched up and down the sidewalks headed to restaurants, bars and small shops that lined Main Street.

     The smell of cooked food drifted from the kitchens of the fine eateries through the alleyways, tempting the homeless who huddled in corners near make-shift burners. Even the sounds of Creole bands, moved by Hurricane Katrina who had subsequently made Memphis their home, could be heard in the near by taverns playing a pretty tune for the happy hour working class. It was a pleasant evening overall. Uneventful and undisturbed.

     For Ivan, the tranquility was the calm before the storm. He had been waiting all day,
actually a decade,
for the boom of life and retribution to come calling at his brother's doorstep.

     He sat patiently waiting, watching the dials on the clock past slowly, until finally his call came. After he received his full report, Ivan left the balcony and walked into the large, empty living room where the men sat on old, dry rotted furniture loading their weapons. Impatiently, he knocked on the water-stained wall to get their attention. Dust and dirt fell to the ground as his hard knuckles hit the sooty wallpaper. Everyone stopped talking and looked over at him. He was grinning like chess cat with the cell phone in his hand.

     "The show starts any minute, gentlemen. So, let's get to our places and prepare give downtown Memphis a grand experience." He sounded like a director about to reveal his grandest production, but he was in fact a cold-blooded killer preparing to terrorize the growing metro.

     The men got up and scurried. Many of them chatted up amongst themselves in their native tongue, while Dorian surveyed the outside of
Mother Russia
restaurant with his computers.

     "So, they did shut it down," Ivan said, looking at the computer, marveling at the high-resolution clarity of the screen.

     "Everything is ready. All you gave to do is say the word," Dorian said, keeping his eyes on the screen, watching for any threat to the operation.

∞♥∞

     Agosto and Sorrello sat in their car watching
Mother Russia
restaurant from down the street. Eating warm peanuts he had purchased from the Peanut Shop, Sorrello yawned and stretched, tiring of the many stakeouts that they had been on lately.

     "Maybe they changed the time?" Sorrello questioned his Intel and looked down at his watch.

     "No, they're doing it tonight," Agosto said, tapping the steering wheel anxiously. "I can feel it, you know?" He looked over at Sorrello, who was rubbing the oily residue of the peanuts from his hands onto his jacket.

     Agosto shook his head. "You need a wife, man. You're a mess."

     "Had one before you were legal to drink, kid."

     "Yeah? What happened?"

     "The bitch left." He thought about trying to explain but decided not to.

     "My bad."

     "Ah, forget about it." He scratched his stubbly beard. "I can't say that I blame her. I've spent far too many nights in cars
like this,
doing jobs
like this
instead of being home with my family. And for what?" He sighed. "My daughter is almost fifteen now. And me... I'm just her ATM. She pushes my buttons, and I give her money."