The Dysfunctional Mob – Part 32

“I’m sorry Miss Daniels, we are going to need to be quick with our business, it appears we have guests,” he told me. 

“Ok,” I told him, glad to be finally getting on with things.  I took hold of the bag.  “Here’s what I want, once you take control, I want everyone to forget the Zeitzev family even exist.  I understand that your business is complicated with some of my family, like Nikolai and Tatyana, and that is fine.  I just want the American side to be forgotten and with that my cousin Tatyana who is new to the US, Oleg’s daughter.  Is it a deal?”  I asked.

“You brought me half a million US dollars for that?”  He asked me.

“Yes.”  I answered.

“What are you really buying?”  He asked me, raising an eyebrow.

“An ally.”  I told him.  “With this money and the profile, I intend to deliver, I expect you to take control of the multiple factions of the Russian mob to the best of your ability, and then leave us alone.”  I told him.  “Right now, I’m willing to pay for that.”  I told him.

“What if I fail?”  He asked.

“Then our business arrangement will become problematic.  To ensure that you fully understand the situation, let me explain something, if the Russian mob does not stop coming after me, the serial killer in your midst will not be the biggest problem.”

“You are not a killer,” he told me.

“You’re right, I’m not.”  I answered.  “That doesn’t mean I won’t have you killed.”  I looked very pointedly at Vasilli.  “I employ a large number of mercenaries, they are men with different morals than the average person.  And after this latest stunt, where the Russian mob sent serial killing contract killers after me, I will no longer play fair.  Even if it costs me another half a million dollars or more, I will make sure and cripple your organizations, making it impossible for the Russian mob to be a profitable enterprise anywhere in the world.  And just like Oleg Borisovich was willing to come after me when I was just a child, I will be every bit as ruthless, and it will not just be the heads of the factions I take down, but their wives, children, grandchildren, sisters, mothers, aunts, anyone I think may come to power will suddenly be in the crosshairs.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m just telling you how it is going to go.  I am tired of being a mob target simply because my mother once dated a guy over forty years ago, and then dumped him to go to the US and start a family with someone else.”

“I see.  I think we understand each other.” 


I picked up the duffle bag and handed it to him.  He looked at it for a moment, then handed it to one of his goons.  There was noise outside the room and the door opened and around twenty men came into the room.  My aunt was with them and she looked like she had just eaten a snake and it had bitten her in the process.  The look on her face was a mix of fear and irritation.  My mother made that look often, when dealing with me when I was still in the dating world.

There was shouting in Russian that I mostly didn’t catch, other than the swear words that I had been hearing most of my life.  My mother could swear with the best of them when she was angry. 

Guns were pulled out and brandished.  Vasilli, Zeke, and my three new Chechen friends also drew guns and held them.  Zeke and Vasilli held them on the guys that seemed to be in charge.  After a moment, a red light appeared in the room and landed squarely on the forehead of one of the men in charge.  It stayed very still there.  It was Apex’s version of a warning shot.  There was more shouting and more swearing at the appearance of the red dot.  After a few tense moments, the dot moved to one of the goons that had come in with the new guys.  He had what I would consider a machine gun. 

The exchanges in Russian suddenly stopped.  Everyone turned to look at me, guns still drawn.  I stared back at them, refusing to be intimidated by them or their weapons.  I had not drawn a gun because I didn’t have one and I wasn’t going to pull out my knife, because I would not be that girl.

“You really need to work on your Russian,” Zeke told me.  I agreed, but it wasn’t going to start right this moment. 

“You don’t speak Russian, do you?”  One of the men asked me.

“I can swear in it,” I admitted.  “Otherwise, no, I don’t.  I can identify food items and I can swear, everything else requires a translator.” 

“We thought it was a joke that you could not speak Russian,” the man said.

“Nope, not a joke.”  I told him.

“What did you ask for in return for your money?”  He asked me.

“Security,” I answered.

“Here’s the deal, I will tell all of you now, I want to be left alone.  I want my family in the US to be left alone and I will get it.  Because the money in that duffle bag is basically pocket change to me.  I have enough of it to go to war with you.  And after serial killers were sent to my house, I am willing to pay very nicely to make sure I win that war.  To do this, I will employ the most violent contract killers I can find, and I won’t just send them after those in charge, I will tear down the organization brick by brick if I need to, I will go after you, I will go after your families, and I will make sure that this serial killer problem looks like a parking ticket when I’m done.  Am I understood?”

“What is to keep us from coming to you for more money?”  He asked.

“You won’t,” I told him.

“Why?”  He asked.

All rights reserved.  Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

This book is a work of fiction.  Any names, places, characters, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are purely fictitious.  Any resemblances to any persons, living or dead, are completely coincidental.

Copyright © Hadena James 2016

All Rights Reserved

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