Read Online Tragic by Robert K. Tanenbaum - Free Book Online Page B

paid him eight thousand to split with Gnat Miller. When he complained that they were owed another six thousand, the Russian said he needed to collect the rest from Lvov, which was why they were now sitting in a noisy club in the Little Odessa area of Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.
    At first, DiMarzo wondered why Bebnev insisted that he accompany him to the club. The Russian made it sound like he just wanted to party before handing over the money. But looking around, DiMarzo figured that his partner in crime wanted backup.
    DiMarzo was a tough kid from a bad neighborhood, but the crowd in the club was made up of some of the roughest-looking men he’d ever seen in one place. Many of the rugged Slavic faces bore scars and disfigured noses; the predominant language was Russian spoken in loud, coarse shouts over the repetitive pounding of Euro/techno/Russian music, and he knew that many of the dark tattoos he could see on various arms and necks represented Russian Mafia affiliations. Everybody, including the women—some of whom looked as tough as the men—seemed to be dressed in black leather.
    Making DiMarzo even more nervous, Bebnev apparently felt so emboldened by his presence and several beers that his boastsabout pulling off “the job” kept growing in volume. He also made a show of pulling out a fat roll of bills to pay for their drinks, tipping the waitress lavishly. DiMarzo noticed that some of the clientele were paying attention.
    “You see look on asshole’s face,” Bebnev shouted over the music. He laughed as he made his fingers into a gun. “It was like, ‘Oh shit, man, now I’m going to die.’ And ‘bang, bang,’ I make it happen, fucking damn straight, man.”
    “Not so loud,” DiMarzo said. “You’re talking too much.”
    “Fuck that, sooka, ” the Russian replied, slurring his words. “These are my people. And no one fucks with Alexei Bebnev.”
    At that moment, a fat, bald man entered the pool hall followed by a couple of big, thuggish-looking men dressed all in black and wearing sunglasses. The fat man looked around the bar until his eyes settled on Bebnev.
    “There’s the money now,” Bebnev told DiMarzo. He waved at the fat man and yelled. “Marat! Zdraast vooee che! Come sit!”
    Lvov saw the wave and headed for the table, followed by his goons. He did not look happy.
    “Who is this?” the fat man asked, nodding at DiMarzo.
    “Just a friend,” Bebnev replied. “He sometimes is great assistant, if you follow me.”
    Lvov looked DiMarzo over with small, piggish eyes set in mounds of pink flesh and said, “Then he will not mind leaving us.”
    “Not at all,” DiMarzo said, getting up before Bebnev had a chance to say anything. He headed for the door, and without looking back walked across the street to wait beneath the elevated Q train tracks.
    A few minutes later, the fat man emerged, followed by his entourage. He spotted DiMarzo and studied him for a few moments before saying something to one of his men, who also gave DiMarzo a hard look. He had made his mind up to run if they decided to cross the street toward him, but instead the trio walked up to a dark sedan parked illegally in front of the bar, got in, and drove away.
    When they were gone, Bebnev emerged from the bar. He, too, saw DiMarzo and sauntered over.
    As the young Russian walked up, DiMarzo noticed that Bebnev had a fresh bruise surrounding one eye that was well on its way to swelling shut. “What happened to you?” DiMarzo asked.
    “A misunderstanding,” Bebnev said. “Sort of like initiation. Me and Lvov are like brothers now.”
    Some brothers, DiMarzo thought. More like the fat guy didn’t like Bebnev’s big mouth. But he didn’t say anything. He just wanted his money and to get the hell out of Little Odessa. “He pay you?”
    Bebnev nodded, pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his leather coat, and offered it to DiMarzo. “Here is four thousand.”
    “Four? You owe me and Gnat six,” DiMarzo