The Veteran

Chapter Sixteen

Diego and I were nervous, having to wait at the hotel. Five hours later there was a knock on the door which startled both of us. In sync, our pistols were in our hands, pointed at the door. We remained silent. There was another knock followed by a voice in English with a heavy Russian accent. "I am here to pick up violin. It is very expensive violin.

Not a subtle code word, but it worked. I kept my pistol trained on the door, and Diego cracked it open. As tall as the man was, we could only see the tip of his chin. He stepped into the room, ducking as he entered, and said, "Nataliy sent me to pick up violin."

Either this guy was stupid or brilliant. "Oh, you mean my Stradivarius?"

"Yes, that is the one. Hello John Hunter. I am Ivan. Nataliy sends his regards. We must go now."

"Ok, we will follow you in our car. No offense, but we don't trust a lot of people now."

"That is ok. Stay close. I drive fast."

He wasn't kidding. We hit speeds close to 100 mph on the highway, which made Diego happy, but I was worried about attracting the wrong kind of attention with those speeds. While we were no longer wanted, getting pulled over when not necessary and at these speeds would mean a sure trip to jail in most places. About four hours passed and he left the interstate, jumping on a two-lane highway. A massive storm was brewing, the sky darkening despite the time of day. In the distance, the black storm clouds were heading our way. Ivan slowed a little, keeping his speeds around 70mph most of the way until we reached a two-lane dirt road where he pulled over and got out of the car. We approached, and he said, "You take road for five miles, go left, go two miles, and you will see driveway. Nataliy is waiting for you at house. I stay here to make sure nobody follow us."

The rain was starting to come down now, sprinkling, but we could tell worse was coming. We drove the remaining distance and found the driveway. It led about half a mile to a clearing where a massive house stood, almost a mansion, surrounded by eight-foot-high camera-lined concrete walls. We approached the gate and met with a voice in Russian. Neither Diego nor I spoke Russian, so we replied in English that we were there to see Nataliy.

"Get out of car and leave there. You walk to house." the voice replied.

We waited at the gate, and after it opened, walked the hundred plus yards to the house. There had to have been at least thirty men on the grounds and some on the walls, watching in all directions. This was like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. Being the head of the Russian mafia had its rewards and drawbacks. No midnight shopping trips or late-night beer runs for this guy.

As we approached the house, Nataliy stepped out to the Veranda and greeted us, "John Hunter, it is good to see you again. You must be Diego Montoya," and extended his hand to Diego. Diego responded and shook Nataliy's hand. Nataliy pulled him in close and hugged and kissed him on both cheeks. Diego hated being hugged, and I laughed.

"What is funny, John Hunter?"

"Diego doesn't like to be hugged, Nataliy. It makes him nervous," I smiled and chuckled, and with that, Nataliy pulled him close and hugged him again.

"Hug not bad, Mr. Montoya. Good for soul," Nataliy, said, laughing with me.

Diego was not amused.

Nataliy glanced at the sky, "We have storm coming. We will go inside now. Mr. Montoya, please join us."

"You can call me Diego. My father was Mr. Montoya."

Nataliy didn't get the reference and gave Diego a strange look.

"He wants people to believe he's not getting old, Nataliy, so his father was called Mr. Montoya."

"Ah, you make joke, Diego, you are funny guy," Nataliy said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, Nataliy, he's a regular hoot a minute."

Many of our analogies and colloquialisms were lost on Nataliy who looked at me with the same inquisitive look, "He thinks he's a comedian, Nataliy" I added.

"Another joke. I have been in America for twenty-five years, and your humor is not funny to me. I will show you Russian humor," he said, laughing. I didn't know if I should be happy or worried.

I knew that in a few minutes we would be getting down to business, and it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. We were surrounded by over two dozen Russian Mafiya, as they called themselves, and I was liked by one person. Their boss.

Nataliy escorted us into the living room, in which I could have fit my entire house, where a young Russian girl was waiting for us. This job had its perks, but I was sure it all came at a price. He asked us to sit down.

"John Hunter, before we start, we have drink. We have vodka," he said and spoke in Russian, motioning to the Russian girl, who brought us a tray with a bottle of Beluga vodka, which I knew was over $100 per bottle. He poured three glasses and handed one to me, and one to Diego. He raised his glass and said, "Za vashe zdorov'ye!" which we repeated and butchered--I later found out it meant to your health.

Here we were, sitting in the living room of the head of the U.S. Russian mafia toasting to our health. Two weeks ago, the hardest decision I had to make was whether we would go out for steak, pizza, or barbecue. We had been through a lot in the past few weeks.

I had been shot, almost blown up, had left over half a dozen bodies in my wake, two of them in my own home. The federal government and local law enforcement were keeping close tabs on me, more than I liked, which wasn't at all, and I was involved with an international organization I knew little about. I had my hand on more money and weapons than I had seen in a long time, and to top it off, I almost lost my wife and kids because of it all. Now, I had to tell the head of the Russian mafia I believed his wife to be a traitor.

I had never been one to mince words, so I started off with the events that had transpired.

"Nataliy, there are a few things I need you to hear," I started.

He nodded and listened.

"I'm assuming you know Diego and I were arrested for killing those two BelyyaPrava."

"Da, this is no secret."

"And I'm assuming you know about the warehouse on the farm getting burned down."

"Da, again this is no secret."

"Nataliy, I'm grateful for the use of the SUV and your understanding concerning my family. I also get it that you feel like you owe me a life debt because I saved your life, which I was happy to do."

"Da, Da. Yes, John Hunter," he said, frowning, "get to point."

I could tell he was getting a little frustrated with me, which didn't make the next thing I would say any less painful.

"When I killed those two BelyyaPrava dudes in the parking lot, I got the driver to say something on a recording. You might want to listen to this."

I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened the recorder, and handed it to him, "Press the play button."

He pressed the play button, and the voices echoed in the room.

"My name is Igor Slavensky and Nataliy's wife, Ingrid is my contact. She told me where you would be."

"Who am I?" came my voice from the recording.

"You are John Hunter and a dead man."

"And so are you." Then the sound of the round.

"No, I do not believe Ingrid betray me. Not possible," he said and threw the phone at me.

"Nataliy, it's not my place to say she did or didn't, but you needed to hear that."

He sat there quiet for a few minutes, contemplating a response and then motioned for the girl to leave the room. I couldn't tell whether he believed the recording or not, but from the look on his face, he was distressed over the situation. Neither Diego nor I spoke a word and waited, and then he started talking.

"John Hunter, I met Ingrid when I came to America. She is good Russian girl from good family. She does not like Mafiya, but she loves money. I let her buy anything she wants. She cannot have children. Barren like Siberia. She is good woman."

I wasn't sure if he was saying it to convince himself or us, but I could tell there was some emotional turmoil by the look on his face. I could tell that things weren't adding up in his head and he was trying to justify them.

"Nataliy, I'm here to talk to you about our deal. I mean no disrespect to you or your wife, but if I'm going to be your bodyguard, I need to be able to warn you when there is a problem or a potential problem, and that is what I need to talk to you about."

"Da, you are right. This is not your problem," he said. As if the subject was gone, he was back to his jovial self, at least as jovial as the head of the Russian mafia can be.

"Tell me, John Hunter. When do you start as my bodyguard?"

"About that--BelyyaPrava is still hunting me?"

"Da, but you are safe with us. They would not dare do anything against us."

"I understand that, but I'm a target, which makes you a target by proxy. With people coming after me, you are in more danger, and what kind of bodyguard would I be if I brought more danger than I solved? If you do still have a traitor in your ranks or someone that's wanting to take over, your death because of me would make it easier for them."

He frowned, "Da, you are right. Explain."

"I can't help you with your traitor problem, but you can help me with the BelyyaPrava problem. I need to--we," motioning at Diego, "need to know who they are, where they are, and who is pushing to have us killed. If we can get the BelyyaPrava off our ass, then we can help you with your problem. They are behind this anyway, I'm pretty sure. They want your power, your money, and your control. If there is anything else you could help with, that would be great."

He spoke, "John Hunter, I cannot take action against BelyyaPrava. There are many in my organization with family and friends in BelyyaPrava. War would start, but if they are source of problem, I want it gone. I can give you limited resources. Too many eyes and ears. Money, I give you now. Wait here."

He left the room, and I looked at Diego, "What do you think?"

"Amigo, I don't like this shit at all," he said, "but if we have to do this, it's better to have him on our side than against us. Don't worry about resources. I'm sure Viktor will be more than happy to hook us up. Hell, he might even join us. I know I would if I had someone like his wife up my ass 24/7."

I could see the fight coming now. Viktor and Diego were going to butt heads. They had gotten along when we served but always had a love-hate relationship. They were opposites, and they always took the opposite viewpoint, regardless if the other one was right or not. This wasn't going to be any better. I hated playing referee but expected it with Viktor and Diego.

Nataliy returned to the living room carrying a large briefcase and sat it on the table between us. "This is as Americans call it, slush fund. There is one million dollars in briefcase, John Hunter. Use what you need to help me with our problem. I will get you names and locations, but I can do no more. I don't like war, especially with other Russians. Most are assholes like me," he said, and he chuckled.

"Thank you, but no offense, that's a lot of money for someone you hardly know."

"I do you favor now, you do me favor later. This money not gift, John Hunter. This is down payment."

I didn't like the implications of that statement. I hated owing people and hated owing the Russian mafia even more. I knew they always collected.

Nataliy escorted us to the front door, and we said our goodbyes. "You bring me more proof of traitor, da?"

"We will do our best, Nataliy, but no guarantees. BelyyaPrava do not like to talk which isn't helpful."

"Call me when finished, John Hunter."

We headed for the car. It was starting to rain harder, and we picked up our pace, jogging to the gate.

This was going to be a nasty storm. I tossed the keys to Diego because I needed to make some calls.

After we got to the car and dried off, Diego spoke, "So now we are friends with the Russian mafia, John? It's not every day someone hands you a million dollars."

"I wouldn't say we are friends. I would say we now owe them a million dollars and they're not looking to kill us. If we fuck up, I think that'll change really fast."

"We can use part of this to replace what you lost, Diego, but I have a feeling we're going to need a lot of it to grease some palms."

"Amigo, I'm not worried about replacing anything, and we shouldn't waste any more time. I want to get the assholes that have been fucking with you and your family, which I happen to be a part of, thank you very much. I'm sure they're the same ones who burned down my warehouse. I'll worry about replacing that shit later."

I nodded, "Roger that."

We hauled ass to the main road and ran into Ivan on the way out, who was now soaked, "Thanks for your help, Ivan," I said.

"Da, you are welcome, John Hunter. Drive--" he looked in the car, seeing Diego at the wheel, "Never mind. Get there alive." He laughed, and he hopped into his car.

"What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"

"Apparently, they are familiar with your driving, Diego." I laughed.

"Obviously," he said and slammed the accelerator to the floor, launching us down the main road, causing us to slide on the wet pavement, which he handled well. He was an excellent driver but drove too fast for my taste.

I pulled the burner phone from my pocket and called Mary, who answered.

"John, everything ok?"

"Yes, everything is fine. We met with a friend who is helping us out with our current situation." I was vague, in case someone was listening.

"Yes, a friend. Right. Are you coming to see us?"

"Not right away. How is everyone doing?"

"We're fine. We have everything we need. The boys and I miss you."

"Not Frank and Jean? And I thought we were doing so well," I said allowing my sarcasm to ooze through the phone.

"John, stop. They are dealing with it better than I thought they would. My sister keeps calling and bugging them to visit, and they won't tell her where we are, and it's driving her crazy, and they are driving me crazy, so stop, please."

"I'm sorry. I'm just messing around. Diego and I have to go visit another friend for some more help, and then I'll call you when we're done. I'll be out of touch for a few days, but don't worry. I'll keep you in the loop somehow."

"Ok. Please be safe. Can you at least talk to the boys before you get off the phone?"

I was sure she was going stir crazy.

"Sure. Put me on speaker phone."

"Hold on a minute. The boys are asleep. Let me walk to their room."

"Daddy's on the phone, boys."

Then came two tired voices mumbling all kinds of questions, and I wasn't able to understand any of them. Mary told them to calm down and talk one at a time.

Matthew, our oldest was first, "Hey Dad, when are you coming home?"

I hated being away from the boys, and it was always one of the hardest questions.

'I'll be home soon. I'm not sure exactly when, but Mommy will tell you after I tell her, ok?"

He wasn't happy. He and I were close. He was my buddy, and we had spent a lot of time together during his formative years, allowing us to have a special bond a lot of fathers and sons don't.

"Ok, Dad," he said, "I love you, and I miss you! I hope you come home soon. " His voice cracked.

"I love you too, Buddy."

Then I heard Jacob.

"Hi, Daddy!" His voice exuded excitement. He was the wild child of the two.

Matthew, our oldest, was always more stoic, while Jacob, three years his junior, would laugh, play and try to make us laugh. This annoyed Matthew to no end.

"Daddy, when are you coming home," he asked. I knew he had heard me, but I repeated what I said to Matthew.

"Aww," he said with his typical disappointed response. "Ok, but when you get home can we go somewhere and do something?"

"Sure, Jacob. We can all go do something special together."

"What are we going to do, Daddy?"

Mary stepped in and said, "Don't worry, Jacob, we'll find something special to do. Daddy must get back to work now. Boys tell your Daddy you love him."

Both boys chimed in with "I love you!" I told them I loved them, and Mary took the phone off speaker.

"John, you have a lot to do. The boys are tired, and it's past their bedtime. Let me know something when you can. I love you and be safe."

"I love you too, Mary. I'll call when I can. Bye."

Those boys had a way of getting to me, and I was glad they had their mother with them. She was good with them and helped them understand that what I did wasn't me being a bad guy. I saved people by what I did, and I was a hero that day. It helped. I couldn't imagine the boys thinking I was a monster. I viewed myself as one in my own mind. I didn't need that coming from anyone else, especially them.

Diego spoke, "You got yourself a great family there, John." He called me John when he wanted my attention. "Sometimes I wish I had a family, but I'm just not cut out for it."

Diego Montoya had stayed in the Navy, pulling a full twenty-two-year hitch and then retired. We had kept in contact throughout, but not as much over the past three years. He had saved my ass more than once, and I his, and we were both sad when I decided to part ways with the teams. He had been at my wedding with Mary as my best man and was always the friend I should have been, but he never held it against me. I had gotten so wrapped up in my civilian life, trying to forget what had happened and what I had done. I had isolated myself from a lot of people I called friends, my brothers, for many years. It was unfair of me to do so, and I felt like shit when both Diego and Viktor welcomed me back without reservations, and in doing so brought a whole boatload of trouble on themselves.

"I know, Diego. I know, and you are part of it. I've been a shitty friend to you, bro."

"No worries, amigo. We're all back together again, me, you, and Viktor, even as much as I hate that Russian commie bastard."

Diego had nothing but love and respect for Viktor, and vice versa, but they had forever busted each other's chops since the first time Viktor had called Diego a dirty Mexican. It was game on at that point, and neither ever let up.

The rain started to come down harder, and I was having difficulty seeing the road ahead. Diego was leaning forward, squinting to see. "Do you think we should pull off the road for a bit?"

"Nah, I got this, amigo. There's no storm I can't drive through."

As much as I trusted Diego, his driving wasn't one of them, and I suggested we find a rest stop until the storm let up. He bitched and moaned but hit the first rest area we came to. I took the opportunity to call Viktor.

"Hello, John. What is up?"

"Hey, we met with a mutual friend and are on our way to see you. We need to set up a place to meet and talk. We will also need to go shopping."

"How many hours before you get close?"

"We're Oscar Mike in your direction and should be close in about ten to eleven hours."

"Call me when you are closer, da? I must talk to wife and set up time to meet you. What supplies to do you need?"

"Standard, Viktor, but with a few additions for longer range."

"Da. I will work on shopping list."

The line went dead.

"Amigo, that guy is so wrapped around her little finger. If she says jump, he doesn't even ask how high and starts jumping. You'd never see me in that situation."

"Of course, not, Diego. You couldn't stay tied down to anyone," I said, a little annoyed that he was saying something about Viktor. At times, his ribbing went a bit overboard.

"Bro, I had a wife. She didn't like my cars, and you know how I am about my cars."

"Maybe if you had married someone who looked better on the inside than on the outside, you wouldn't have had that problem."

Diego had married a trophy wife, and although she looked amazing, she treated him like shit, spent more money than he made, and was always complaining about his cars. I didn't give a shit about the money or cars, but when she started treating my best friend like shit, that was where I had enough and told him so on several occasions. He never liked what I had to say.

"What the fuck, bro? You never gave her a chance."

"I sure as fuck did, Diego, but after she nearly bankrupted you, fucked one of our mutual friends, and then tried to ruin you, my forgiving nature had pretty much run its course."

"Bro, that ain't right man, busting on someone's old lady like that."

"You know what, Diego? You're right. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut when I found out she was fucking around. Maybe I should have not brought it to your attention she was spending your money like you were a fucking bank. Maybe I should have not said anything when she tried to sell some of your cars online. Maybe I should have minded my own fucking business, and just maybe your warehouse burning to the ground was a good thing," I said. I had crossed the line with that last statement. I found myself getting angry, and I knew it wasn't at Diego, but I was taking it out on him.

Diego punched me in the jaw. I looked at him and hit him back.

"Whoa, there bro," throwing his hands up, "That's fucked up so slow your fucking roll. I know things have been rough for you, and we are all going through it, but you don't need to take it out on me. My cars, Bro."

I knew he didn't want to fight, but if I pushed it, he wouldn't hesitate.

"Look, you're right," I said, rubbing my jaw. "I'm sorry, for that along with everything that's happened, but when you bust on Viktor like that, you tend to go a little overboard, and it pisses me off. He's happy, so let him be fucking happy without raining on his parade, for once."

"You're right, bro. I pick on him way too much sometimes. I'll try to let off, and I hope I didn't hit you too hard, old man."

"Old man? Fuck you!" I rubbed my cheek. Then we went silent., ignoring the other.