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We took one way in, they took the other.
“Poios einai?” comes a gravelly voice from inside.
“Who the fuck do you think it is?” I snap back in English.
I know enough Greek to be able to hold these talks in their native language, but I would never afford them that respect.
After a moment of mumbling, the door clicks open and two large, hairy Greek fuckers motion us inside. One of them peers over my shoulder at our caravan.
“They aren’t coming inside,” I assure him.
“Good,” the man grumbles, his voice thick with a Greek accent.
Ray and I step inside and the hairs on the back of my neck immediately stand to attention. The place is just as dirty as I imagined. Still, I was expecting someone to have cleaned up at least a little bit.
This whole thing is important, after all.
Yet this dump looks less like a location where two members of mafia royalty might agree to get engaged, and more like the perfect place to commit a murder.
I wouldn’t put it past the Greeks to pull some kind of treachery. They are at a disadvantage in the war, and killing a Barinov might help them in some small way.
Really, we shouldn’t have given them the luxury of a neutral meet-up location. This meeting should have been held on our territory.
But we had to get as far away from everyone back home as we could. Because not everyone on the east coast is in favor of this possible arrangement.
It’s not just me.
The Italians are livid about this whole thing. They think another alliance will undermine their power even more. And they aren’t wrong.
Five years ago, they were the undisputed rulers of the American underworld, especially on the east coast. Four Italian families ran New York and beyond. Then the Kilpatricks busted down the doors and took control… and then my family arrived and allied with the Irishmen to help keep control.
Now, the Italians are going to have to share even more of their former land with the Greeks.
I understand why they’re pissed, but I truly do not give a fuck. It was their own weakness and greed that got them into this position, and if they try shit, I won’t hesitate to use all of my power to wipe them out.
Still, right now, we need them to help run the day-to-day operations down the east coast, so there was no point in inflaming them by having this meeting on one of their former territories.
As for the Greeks, I’m sure they would have loved to have this meeting on their home-turf, but from what we’ve heard, they’re having problems of their own.
A rebellious Greek faction is apparently threatening to break off from the rest because they would rather fight to death than ever make peace.
They have my respect more than the fuckers in this house, that’s for sure.
Greeks and Russians are mortal enemies. We don’t belong to together, not unless we’re fighting. And I’d rather be fighting any day of the week… if I didn’t have a family to protect.
“Have they been searched?”
When Ray and I turn a dusty corner into a worn-down living room, we’re greeted by a single man.
Tall and sinewy, his bald head shines against some unseen light. Scratching his raggedy brown beard, he steps forward and looks me up and down.
“We didn’t bring any weapons,” Ray insists, lying through his teeth.
“And I’m supposed to just trust you?” the man says, tearing his eyes off of me to look at my partner.
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” I say. “Trust.”
“Trust is earned.”
