I’m really gonna do this. I’m really gonna be the person I want to see in the mirror, the woman I can live with and be proud of.
I’m looking at a fragile, onetime opportunity to put away three upper-level members of a Russian criminal organization that operates out of Georgia. Not only that, but I have the opportunity to see justice served to the men who kidnapped me. At least I hope we can get them in the process. I don’t even know who they are, but maybe I’m one step closer to finding out. At least we’ll get the guy who ordered it done. Cash assured me the man responsible is one of the three targeted. There will be some satisfaction in that.
As I think of what’s to come, legally speaking, I feel relieved to have something so consuming to focus on. Something other than Nash. Or the lack thereof. I also feel a little overwhelmed. I’m smart enough to realize when I’m out of my depth. And I am.
As I consider what my first step needs to be, I scroll through my list of recent calls. I stop on Jensen Strong’s number, my thumb hovering there. As a prosecutor for the DA’s office, he seems like the perfect place to start.
I press the square and hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring. A shadow of dread overcomes the determination of my new endeavor. I know that after I talk to Jensen, I’ll have another call to make.
Daddy.
TWENTY-NINE
Nash
I didn’t sleep much last night, so I’m a little groggy as I thumb through some bills to pay the cabbie who brought me from the motel to the docks. The fare isn’t nearly as exorbitant as the one I paid last night to the guy who brought me from Atlanta to Savannah. But I expected that. He drove me a long, long way.
The cab pulls away and I glance down at the envelope again before I begin my search. The boat name that Dmitry scrawled across the front is the only thing I have to go on. Budushcheye Mudrost. My Russian isn’t perfect, but it translates roughly to “future wisdom.”
Dmitry said I could find the boat at port here in Savannah. He gave me the letter to give to the captain, a man he called Drago. He asked that I hand-deliver it. That’s all. That’s the only thing he wanted from me. He’s giving up so much to help me, to help my father and my family, and the only thing he asked in return was that I deliver a letter for him.
Of course, I agreed.
He can’t deliver it himself. The only thing he’s leaving the motel for is to meet Konstantin, the man who will hopefully rise into leadership with the local Bratva. Otherwise, he and Duffy will be hiding out at the motel until Cash and Marissa can get the ball rolling, get indictments going, all that technical shit. After that, I’d say Dmitry and Duffy will be deposed and then put in witness protection or something like that. I think that’s how it works, anyway. I wouldn’t know for sure. I’m not the Nash that attended law school.
It takes me nearly an hour to locate the boat. I was expecting a commercial vessel, something similar to what Dmitry and I have worked on all this time, not the private yacht I’m staring at. The damn fine private yacht I’m staring at.
I see one person walk by on the upper deck. I call out to him and ask for permission to come aboard. I get no smile or friendly greeting, only a very short, very clipped “yes.”
I climb onto the deck and wait. In less than a minute, the same guy is standing in front of me. He’s frowning and looks annoyed, like I’m an unwelcome interruption. Physically, he looks like a washed-out, nondescript version of Dmitry.
“I’m looking for Drago.”
“I’m Drago,” he says abruptly. His accent is thick and his disposition is surly at best.
“I have a letter for you from Dmitry,” I say, holding up the envelope.
His frown deepens and he snatches the letter from my fingers. I watch him run his thumb under the sealed tab of the envelope and remove the piece of paper from inside. He unfolds it and, from between the creases, takes out another sheet of paper. Holding the second piece in his other hand, Drago begins reading the first.
He looks up at me several times as he reads. I don’t know what that means, but I assume Dmitry is explaining who I am and why I’m delivering it. That or he’s telling the other Russian something he doesn’t like.
I hope it’s not bad news and this ass**le doesn’t go all Boondock Saints and shoot my ass.
When he finishes the letter, Drago glances up at me again, narrowing his eyes on mine. After staring at me for God knows how long, like he’s trying to figure something out, he hands me the second folded piece of paper, the one from inside the first letter.
I’m a little surprised that it’s for me. If Dmitry’d had something to say, I would’ve thought he’d have said it to my face, when I was there yesterday. But looking at the page, with its sharp creases and wrinkled edges, it’s easy to see this was written some time ago.
I unfold the paper and read Dmitry’s neat print.
Nikolai,
Many years ago, I met a teenage boy. He was the son of a friend and one of the strongest young men I’ve ever known. He gave up his life, his future, and his family to honor his father and to one day find a way to bring justice to his dead mother.
I grew fond of this boy. I loved him like a son, like my own family. Over time, I watched him grow and struggle and become a most trusted friend, a man any father would be proud of.
I feel I’ve played a part in your hardships, Nikolai, even though indirectly. More than anything I want you to find happiness and peace.
I pray there will come a day when you can escape this life. If you’re reading this letter, today is that day. Most likely, Drago is giving you this note. It has been hiding safely inside the instructions I wrote to him today. I don’t know how many years have passed until you’re reading this, but know that I’ve been planning this gift to you for a long, long time.
I bought this boat to one day take me to retirement, somewhere far away, but I want you to have one year of freedom on it. Freedom to find yourself, find your place in life, find happiness. And peace. Dearest God, I hope you find peace, my friend.
The crew and the captain are paid annually. That is taken care of through an account I keep for them. They do some small yet legitimate importing and exporting for me. But for this year, for your year, you need only tell them where you want to go and they’ll take you. I suspect I know your first destination and I’ve told Drago as much in his letter. If you go there, give my best to Yusuf’s wife. Tell her I’m deeply sorry for her loss.
Go, Nikolai! Take this gift and turn your life around. You deserve a second chance. More than anyone I know.