The driver opened the door. Yefim left first, scanned the outside, and then held his hand out for me.
“Thank you.”
We stood by the limo. Staying there, I scanned the space. Two big men stood in front of the strip club, wearing tuxedos. I thought back to Circuit’s instructions.
“They’ll recognize who you are, but you will still need to say the word,” Circuit said.
“What is it?”
“Obsession.”
“Why did Misha pick that?”
Circuit shrugged. “I don’t know. He can be too deep for me at times.”
I began to speak.
Yefim stopped me by holding up his hands. “Before entering, we must have your men surround you first.”
I nodded. This was already a dangerous situation. I would listen to Yefim every step of the way. Over thirty men arrived and gathered around us.
I whispered to Yefim, “This is more than I thought.”
“Circuit doesn’t want to take any chances.”
“It’s a small army.”
“This was the only way Circuit and I would feel comfortable with this plan. You’re the most important woman in Misha’s life. I will not take that lightly.”
“All right.”
Yefim gave me his bulky arm and guided us forward.
When we approached the men, they held worried expressions on their faces. Their gazes went over the huge army behind us.
I cleared my throat and spoke in Russian. “Hello, I’m going down to. . .Misha’s office to talk to his guests.”
Silent, they studied me.
Yefim nudged me. “The codeword.”
“Of course.” I nodded. “Obsession.”
They moved to the side.
The one on the left let me in. “Welcome, Ms. Jones.”
We entered Zavist.
Piano music filled the air.
I expected a black and gold club with nude women dangling from the ceiling.
Shockingly, the place looked like a men’s only social hunting club. It was very masculine. The large space displayed dim lighting, beautifully detailed wood walls, antique pool tables, and taxidermy everywhere. There was a conversation-style seating arrangement. Men lounged in brown leather chairs near the bar, drinking vodka, scotch, and whiskey and wearing high-end suits. Most had gray hair, signaling this group was from an older population. Over the fireplaces were gold leaf framed images of powerful men throughout Russian history.
Wall-mounted shelves created a library feel, but no one could mistake themselves for being in one. Every waitress was naked and wore high heels. Almost all had blonde ponytails and black glasses on their faces. A few represented other races. The nude women that weren’t carrying around drinks or trays of food, sat on the men’s laps and watched them talk.
Interesting. Not as wild as I thought. This looks like a place where power moves are made.
Walking by, I caught a few discussions. Most appeared to be in deep conversation over politics and the financial state of Russia. A few men glanced my way but most ignored me. Their full attention remained on the army of men following me.
We continued past the bar and into a long hallway. Like Misha’s other underground office, a purple glow bathed the space as if signaling this was now his zone.
Another guy sat in a chair at the end. He had black spiky hair and a simple black suit with a white shirt and no tie. Each ear held a black earring. He rose when he approached. The whole time his gaze remained on me.
I stopped in front of him. “Obsession.”
The man had an English accent. “Welcome, Ms. Jones. My name is Zip. Circuit said you would be arriving soon.” He opened the door. “Everyone will not fit down there.”
“I understand, but I want as many as possible.”
Zip scanned my group. “We’ll bring twenty. You already have other guards down there. The rest can remain here.”
“Sounds good.”
He led us through.
A silver door stood at the bottom of the stairs. A large A had been carved in the center. A circle surrounded the letter.
This is just like the other one.
Zip placed his hand on it. A beep sounded. The silver door slid open. And then we went down the stairs.
Misha loves burrowing in secrecy.
I stayed on Yefim’s side.
“Do you want me to hold the lollipops, Ava?”
“I’ve got them.”
At the end of the stairs, blue lines of light covered the dark floor.
Again, this was just like his other place. With Misha’s life constantly revealing mysteries, it was nice to not be shocked.
My shoulders relaxed as we headed down the similar-looking hallway. It led us to a smaller room. This one had fewer people on computers with headsets than the combat room.
But there were many similarities from the other place. Same silver paint on the walls. Same style of desks and metal chairs. Same silver carpet on the floor.
I checked the right.
There’s the bathroom like in the other spot.
In some ways, I felt like I was in my second home.
My phone rang.
Nervousness came. I checked the screen and was relieved to not see Misha’s name. I put the phone to my ear. “Hello.”