not look like the man I met in basic training or served beside in war, but that was only the surface. Where it counted, he was that man and more. He was a quick thinker and strong beyond belief. He was also exceptionally knowledgeable in the tactics of warfare and technology as well as bioagents.
His knowledge wasn’t learned through others. He had experience and also knew the pitfalls. Prior to reuniting with us, his automated home was programmed against him. Mason knew there were limits to our reliability on technology. The gut was the best teller of danger.
“Say this was reversed,” I said, thinking aloud. “The Sparrow outfit was licking its wounds and bleeding supporters. I was the one dead in the alley, and you have little doubt Sparrow pulled the trigger as a warning. Ivanov contacted you. You agreed to a meeting. Now, what are you thinking?”
“A few things,” Mason replied. “First, what the fuck did you do to warrant Sparrow’s bullet?”
“Maybe I was thinking of crossing him.”
“And now I have a meeting with someone that could get me shot either by the person I’m meeting with or by Sparrow if he found out.”
I nodded.
“But I’ve been with the Sparrow outfit for a long time,” Mason said. “And now I am seeing it slip away. I stood by him as he, in order to gain power, put trust in an outsider over his own trusted men.”
“And you’ve fucking been there since day one. Instead of trusting you, he trusted Hillman.”
“I’m pissed,” Mason replied.
The steel door opened. “About what?” Sparrow asked, entering 2 wearing his customary middle-of-the-night sweatpants and t-shirt.
“You,” we both said in unison.
“What the fuck?”
“No, boss,” I said with a grin. “Bykov agreed to meet with you, and we’re discussing his possible state of mind.”
“Why are you pissed?” Sparrow asked, taking his chair.
“Because according to Madeline,” Mason began, “I’m Bykov in this scenario—according to her, I’ve been with you for at least the last seventeen years at the top, sharing your number-two spot. I’ve laid my life on the line for you and the bratva. You fucked up when you decided to put your trust in Hillman.”
Sparrow nodded. “I was trying to expand our base.”
It now seemed we were all playing the alternate-reality scenario.
“Did you discuss it with us first?” I asked.
“I don’t have to fucking discuss anything with anyone,” Sparrow said, the ends of his lips curling upward.
“After seventeen years,” I began, “you sold Madeline, the woman who has appeared to be at your side through too much shit, and now you killed me—I’m Gorky,” I said.
Mason’s head shook. “This whole organization is on shaky-as-fuck ground. I’m not the only one looking at you suspiciously. We all wonder who is next. Who are you going to eliminate?”
“You’re not seeing it from Ivanov’s point of view,” Sparrow said, lifting his cup as he stood. “I—as him—am thinking about the good of the bratva. We fucking had Chicago ready to crumble. Hillman brought me the disenfranchised McFadden followers. Those fuckers knew the city.”
Mason’s large boots came to the concrete floor. “And I know Detroit.” He pointed my way. “So did he and you shot him.”
“He was disloyal.”
I joined the others in standing as the door opened again and Reid entered.
His neck straightened as he grimaced. “What is happening?”
“He’s going down,” Mason said, pointing at Sparrow. “I’m not getting passed over or killed after all these years.”
“What the fuck?” Reid said, lifting his hands and coming closer. “Are you all losing it?”
“Right now, I’m on the edge,” Sparrow said, still looking at Mason. “I know I fucked up, but that doesn’t mean I’ll admit it. I need to know I have complete and utter allegiance.”
Mason took a step back. “So you’re suspicious? Of even me?”
Sparrow nodded and pointed at me. “Hell, I just killed him. The walls are closing in. I’m feeling trapped. I’d have eyes and ears on everyone, even you. Not doing so would be arrogant, like my father.”
“You don’t think Ivanov is arrogant?” I asked.
“Oh fuck, you are…them,” Reid said with an exhale. “You fuckers had me worried. I thought maybe the stress was getting to you.”
“Brainstorming, man,” I said, retaking my seat.
“How did you die?” Reid asked me.
“Shot. I’m Gorky.”
“It was nice knowing you,” Reid said with a grin, pulling up something on his phone. “Here’s the message from Ivanov. He has agreed to meet with you in New Orleans during the tournament.”
My head shook. “No way is Madeline going to that tournament.”
“She doesn’t have to,”