Page 79 of Sin Wager
When we arrive at the docks, Vera waits in the car as I approach the mass of Vetrov men huddled near the large boat recently vacated by Radich scum.
"Misha," Rolan calls as he spots us approaching. "Good timing. We're just finishing the inventory."
A wooden box has been pried open to reveal neat stacks of currency, mostly rubles but with a substantial quantityof American dollars and European euros mixed throughout. Conservative estimate puts each crate's value at several million rubles, and I count at least twenty containers in the immediate area.
"How much total?" I ask.
"Still counting, but preliminary estimates suggest north of four hundred million rubles." Rolan's satisfaction is evident in his voice. "More than enough to cover our losses and provide a substantial profit margin."
A figure approaches from the shadows near the dock's edge, and I recognize Nikolai Barinov despite the poor lighting. The fixer looks exhausted, his usually immaculate appearance disheveled by hours of crisis management and violence. But there's satisfaction in his expression as he surveys the recovered money and captured Radich personnel.
"Misha," he says, extending his hand in a gesture that carries more respect than I've seen from him before. "I have to admit, I had doubts about your ability to handle this situation. But you've exceeded all expectations."
The handshake is the firm grip of one professional acknowledging another's competence. "The track is secure. The bleeding has stopped. And we've eliminated a threat that could have undermined the family's entire operation in this region."
"What about the authorities?" I ask, gesturing toward the distant sound of sirens and radio chatter from the main facility.
"Handled. The official story involves a dispute between rival gambling syndicates that escalated beyond anyone's control. Local police will investigate, but their findings will point toward external criminal organizations rather than established family interests."
The explanation satisfies me. Corruption and influence provide insulation from legal consequences, but only when applied with sufficient subtlety to avoid federal attention. TheRadich crew's aggressive tactics created the chaos that now covers our own involvement in tonight's violence.
"What happens to their remaining personnel?" I nod toward a group of disarmed men standing under guard near the loading dock's far end. They look defeated, their expensive clothing torn and stained by the night's events.
"Deportation for the foreign nationals. Prison for the Russians, assuming they survive the judicial process." Rolan's smile carries dark implications. "Some may suffer unfortunate accidents before their trials begin."
I watch the defeated Radich soldiers, recognizing the hollow expressions of men who understand their lives are forfeit. Criminal organizations operate on loyalty and fear in equal measure, but failure erases both currencies with brutality. These men bet their lives on Sonya's scheme and lost everything when the operation collapsed.
Movement near the dock's entrance catches my attention, and I spot two of my men escorting additional prisoners toward the holding area. The faces are unfamiliar, probably lower-level operatives caught trying to escape through service tunnels or maintenance areas. Their capture suggests a thorough sweep of the facility, the kind of comprehensive operation that prevents future revenge attempts.
"How many total arrests?" I ask Nikolai.
"Seventeen confirmed Radich personnel, plus another dozen associates and hangers-on. We're still sorting the significant players from the expendable muscle."
The numbers satisfy me. Criminal organizations are surprisingly small when stripped of their civilian infrastructure and political connections. A dozen core members can operate a multi-million-ruble enterprise with proper planning and sufficient backbone.
When I turn, I see Vera walking toward us. With no imminent danger presenting itself, I extend an arm and she moves closer to my side, her earlier shock giving way to fascination as she observes the organized dismantling of the conspiracy that controlled her life for months. The systematic counting of money and cataloging of evidence provides closure, tangible proof that the threat has been completely neutralized.
"Is it really over?" she asks quietly.
"The Radich operation is finished," I confirm. "They can't threaten you or your brother again."
Relief floods her expression, years of accumulated stress and fear finally beginning to dissipate. The protective tension she's carried since agreeing to work for Sonya melts away, replaced by something approaching peace.
She nods, her green eyes reflecting the floodlights' harsh illumination as she processes the magnitude of what has occurred. The criminal organization that manipulated her desperation and used her love for her brother as a weapon no longer exists. The money that represented months of careful planning and execution now fills our coffers.
"What about Elvin's treatment?" she asks.
"Already arranged. The best cancer specialists in Moscow, private facilities, experimental treatments if necessary. Your brother will have every possible advantage in his fight."
The promise brings tears to her eyes, but these are tears of relief rather than despair. For the first time in months, she can think about her brother's future without the crushing weight of financial desperation driving every decision.
The loading dock falls quiet as the last vehicles depart and the floodlights dim to normal operating levels. In a few hours, legitimate workers will arrive to resume the facility's regular functions, unaware that a criminal empire was dismantled in this same space during the night.
I take Vera's hand and guide her toward the exit where our own transportation waits. The battle is won, the enemy is defeated, and our family grows stronger from the conflict. But victory requires constant vigilance, and new threats will emerge to replace the ones we've eliminated.
For now, though, we can savor the satisfaction of a clean victory. The track remains under Vetrov control, the bleeding has stopped, and the woman I love carries our child safely in her womb. All the violence and planning and risk have led to this moment of quiet triumph.
As we walk away from the scene of our victory, I allow myself a moment of satisfaction. The game is never truly over in our world, but tonight we won decisively. And sometimes, that's enough.
