~Hours Earlier~
The heavy oak door of the study shut with a soft, weighted click that sealed out the rest of the house.
Aaron stood by the wide glass window overlooking the grounds, a unlit cigarette pressed between his fingers.
He clicked his lighter open, the small flame catching the dark edge of the tobacco, and pulled a long, steady breath before letting the smoke drift out into the quiet room.
Behind him, Niko set a thin leather folder down on the dark wood desk.
"The machine stopped working ten minutes after the night crew checked in," Niko said, his voice low, kept strictly between the four walls. "They’re saying a power surge burned out the main sensor board. The original testing run was scrubbed."
Aaron didn’t turn around. He took another drag, the tip glowing red against the dim light filtering through the heavy drapes. "And the report was meant to be ready when again?"
"Forty-eight hours. Before Friday’s session."
"And now?"
"Two weeks, minimum. The lab has to bring in a certified technician from the manufacturer to replace the board and clear the system." Niko paused, crossing his arms. "The timing is too clean. Those bastards!"
Aaron let out a thin stream of gray smoke that curled up toward the ceiling. "It’s convenient."
"It means we have nothing to put in front of the judge on Monday," Niko pointed out.
"Without that chemical breakdown signed and sealed by their lab, the court won’t let us bring up the eye drops. Arthur will object the second I open my mouth, and the judge will sustain it. They bought themselves time."
Aaron finally turned, resting his shoulder against the glass. His eyes were cold, flat blue, tracking the slow rise of smoke in the air. "They didn’t buy time. They used it."
"We can’t prove Kian or Arthur touched that building," Niko said grounded. "The lab’s security footage for that floor was wiped during the same power drop. Officially, it’s an equipment failure."
"I don’t care about officially," Aaron said softly. He tapped the ash from his cigarette into a brass tray on the edge of the desk.
"I don’t need a police report to tell me when someone is reaching into my pocket. Arthur is playing the game he knows. He can’t win the evidence, so he breaks the clock."
"So what do we do about Monday?"
"We let Monday happen," Aaron said. His voice was level, almost casual, but the edge underneath it was razor-sharp. "Let them take their little victory. Let Arthur think his stall worked. But stop looking at the court clerk for answers, Niko."
Niko watched him carefully. "Boss..."
"Find out who touched the system," Aaron said, taking another slow pull from the cigarette.
"Not the lab heads. The maintenance contractor. The guy who cleared the security gate at change of shift. The technician who logged in off-schedule. Find the line, and follow it until you find the money."
Niko nodded slowly. "And if it leads back to Arthur’s firm?"
"It won’t lead to his front desk," Aaron said, a small, dark smile touching the corner of his mouth before disappearing into the smoke.
"Arthur doesn’t dirty his own hands. He uses people who think they’re smart. Find the weak one."
He paused, staring out at the grey sky beyond the glass, then tapped the rest of the ash off.
"And Niko?"
"Yeah?"
"I want everything on Arthur Pendleton."
Niko stopped. "Everything?"
"Everything," Aaron repeated. His blue eyes didn’t move from the window.
"Where he went to school. Who paid his tuition. Every firm he worked for before he opened his own doors. Every client who dropped out of his cases without a trial. Every judge he’s had dinner with over the last ten years. Every favor he owes, and every favor he’s collected."
He turned his head slightly, his gaze dropping onto Niko like lead. "Start with the things he thought were too small for anyone to remember."
Niko held his breath for a second, then nodded once, taking the folder back off the desk. "I’ll get on it now."
When the door clicked shut behind the lawyer, Aaron didn’t move for a long time.
He stood in the quiet, pulling on the cigarette until it burned down near his knuckles. He stubbed it out in the tray, immediately reached into his pocket for the silver case, and lit another.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a long-distance number. It picked up on the third ring.
"Aaron," Pyotr’s rough, heavy voice came through the line, layered over the faint sound of rain and distant street traffic. "I was waiting for your call."
"Pendleton," Aaron said, his voice smooth, dropping into Russian now. "I need his entire cupboard laid out on a table. Every skeleton, every shell company, every dirty secret he’s buried under his legal diplomas."
Pyotr grunted on the other end. "The lawyer? You’re going after the lawyer now?"
"He’s Kian’s wall," Aaron said, taking a slow, deep breath of smoke. "Kian is weak. He’s sloppy and he’s desperate. But Pendleton is holding the string. If I cut Pendleton, Kian falls flat on his face."
"Consider it done," Pyotr said. He paused, the sound of a heavy lighter clicking on his end of the line. "How’s the missus?"
Aaron looked down at his shoes, the blue in his eyes darkening. "The same. Her stomach won’t settle. She can barely keep water down today."
"Looks like she’s having a hard time boss," Pyotr said bluntly. "And you need to pay attention to what’s happening back home."
Aaron’s hand tightened slightly around the phone. "What happened?"
"Voronin is still pushing," Pyotr said, his tone turning dark and sharp. "He knows you’re still in the States. He knows you’re spending your days sitting in family courtrooms instead of managing the docks in Odessa. The rumors are already moving through the streets. They’re saying your mind is soft. They’re saying a woman has you tied up by your leash."
Aaron took the cigarette from his lips. The quiet in the study grew heavy, dangerous, the kind of silence that usually preceded a body being pulled out of the river.
He knew Orlov was already running his mouth from the meeting at the minister’s place.
"Let Voronin talk," Aaron said, his voice dropping cold and terrifyingly still.
"Tell him to keep talking. Tell him to talk until his mouth gets tired. And then tell Mikha to pull two of his trucks off the line at the border and burn them in the open yard."
Pyotr went quiet for a second. "That’s three million in freight, boss."
"It’s a message," Aaron said. "Voronin wants to know if my eyes are off the board? Let him watch three million dollars go up in smoke and ask himself if he wants to be standing next to the fire when I come back. I don’t care about the money, Pyotr. If anyone in Moscow thinks my hands are full, remind them how easy it is to empty them."
"Understood," Pyotr grunted. He took a slow breath. "And say hi to the missus for me will ya boss?"
"She’s asleep now," Aaron said softly, his voice shifting so fast it was jarring, from the ruthless syndicate boss back to something far more dangerous, far more quiet. "When she wakes up."
He ended the call without waiting for an answer.
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