Page 87 of Preacher

“Let’s move this upstairs.”

Sergei nodded, and he and Viktor took Rooks by the arm, leading him out of the room. We all followed them upstairs and into Sergei’s office. Sergei took him over to the table where he had Rooks’ computer and all the files Shep had gathered on Vasili.

Rooks turned on his laptop while Seven stood behind him, watching him like he wanted him to step out of line. But Rooks wasn’t that stupid. He knew if he fucked up, Seven would put a bullet in his head.

Rooks glanced up at me and Sergei as he asked, “So, what do you want me to do?”

“We need access to Vasili Volkov’s financials,” I answered. “We need them all. every shell account, offshore transfer, or possible front business. Whatever dirt you can dig up.”

“Okay, what kind of dirt am I looking for?”

“He’s Russian mafia.” Rooks’ eyes widened. “We think he’s working under the table. We want proof.”

“Alright then.” Rooks leaned forward and started typing away. “I can do that, but I’m gonna need something in return.”

“You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“I am if you want it fast,” Rooks countered.

“You’re pushing, asshole.”

“I just want a chance to talk to Tallie. I need a chance…”

“No fucking way,” Seven roared. “She’s just now starting to put all your bullshit behind her. No way I’m gonna let you fuck her up again.”

“I can’t take knowing that I hurt her again, and I just want a chance to make things right.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you had her father killed.”

“He was my father, too.”

Seven’s eyes narrowed as he growled, “That’s not helping your case.”

“You can write a letter,” I suggested. “Seven can read it when your done and decide if he wants to give it to her.”

“You good with that?” When Seven nodded, Rooks let out a breath and said, “I need the Wi-Fi password.”

Sergei wrote it down and slid it over to him, and that was it. Rooks took everything Shep had found and used it to dig even further. One hour rolled into the next, and he kept at it. Grim and Seven hovered over him, watching and waiting.

Sergei had one of the servants bring us food and drinks, but he and his brothers never left. None of us did. We didn’t trust him, not for a second, but I couldn’t deny the kid had a gift.

He dug deeper than most would dare. Through shell corps and blind accounts, through a wall of Russian smoke and mirrors, and just as the sun started to set, he leaned back and let out a breath. “I got him.”

We all stood and gathered around him. Sergei was the first to ask, “What did you find?”

“He’s been laundering through an international shipping company. It’s registered in Cyprus and operates out of Rotterdam. He’s masking the transfers as transport fees.” Rooks sounded sure of himself as he announced, “He’s been moving funds into a private account in Dubai. Not a Volkov family account. His personal one.”

Sergei stepped forward, and there was no missing the hope in his voice when he asked, “You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m positive. Hell, look for yourself.” He turned the laptop so we could see. “No Bratva clearance. He’s pulling money off the books, and he’s been doing it for at least a year.”

“I’ll be damned. You actually did it.”

“So, what now?”

Rooks turned to me. “You guys gonna lock me back in that damn basement?”

“For now.” I crossed my arms. “Once we verify what you found, we’ll work something out.”

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