Chapter 9 - Descent into the City|
The drive down the mountain was a tense, silent affair. Rain began to fall, slicking the winding roads and matching my grim mood. I drove my armored SUV, with Marcus in the passenger seat and two of my best men in the back. The burning of the supply truck was a calculated insult, a slap in the face meant to draw me out.
"The local police have been paid off to look the other way regarding the truck," Marcus reported, reading from a glowing tablet. "Viktor Volkov is throwing serious money around. He’s bought influence in the port district."
"He wants the shipping lanes," I reasoned, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Our legitimate front relies on those ports. If he chokes our logistics, he thinks he can force us to negotiate."
"Are we going to negotiate?" asked one of the men in the back.
"No," I said flatly. "We are going to send a message. Marcus, where is Viktor's right-hand man operating from?"
"A nightclub downtown. The Red Lotus. He uses it to launder money and organize their street-level dealers."
"Then that's our first stop."
We pulled into the neon-lit alley behind the Red Lotus just past midnight. The heavy bass of the music vibrated through the walls. I checked my sidearm out of habit, though I intended to resolve this with words first. We bypassed the bouncers, slipping through the service entrance.
Inside, the club was a haze of smoke and flashing lights. I spotted our target, a burly Russian named Igor, sitting in a VIP booth surrounded by bodyguards.
"Stay sharp," I muttered to my men.
May you like
I walked straight up to the booth, ignoring the guards who immediately reached for their jackets. I tossed the tarnished silver coin onto the table. It landed with a heavy clatter.
"Tell Viktor," I said, leaning over the table, "that the Vale wolves are not declawed. The next time he burns my property, I’ll burn his city to the ground."
