to help us find these motherfuckers?”
“It’s going to help more than if we didn’t have it.” I read the next page, discussing a Bible story. However, I wasn’t sure if it had actually been in the Bible. I read out loud, “Satan was one of the members of the court of heaven. God was impressed with Job who had been a good man.”
“I remember Job.”
I smirked and continued reading, “Satan thought Job was faking it. Satan told God that Job was only nice due to all of the good fortune he was getting from God. He also assured God that Job would curse God the minute he was faced with misfortune.”
“So, what happened to Job?”
“God told Satan to destroy all that Job owned.”
“That’s fucked up. Satan was a hater.”
“The first hater of our world.” I scanned the passage. “Satan killed Job’s animals, employees, and children.”
“What did Job do?”
“Job continued to have faith in God.” I went to the next page.
“Fuck that. I would have done exactly what Satan said and started cursing God.”
“Which is why you’re not one of the faithful people in church.”
“Yeah. One day, I’m going to get my life together.” Max leaned closer to me. “What happened after that?”
“The author moved on to talking about the Knights Templar and how some would pray to Satan.”
“Man, I want to know what happened to Job.”
“I guess you’ll have to read the Bible for that.”
“Either way, this group doesn’t sound like the fun kind. Fuck, man. I just want to fight some regular ass gangsters. Not some devil worshiping motherfuckers that hate black people.”
I flipped several pages and stopped at a painting of a white man with long black hair.
Max pointed at him. “He looks familiar.”
“He does?”
“Yeah.”
I read the title. “He’s Peter the Great.”
“Okay. I know him from Misha. That’s the dude that Saint Petersburg is named after or something like that. I know he had a lot to do with Saint Petersburg. Misha had a painting of him in a hotel room I stayed in.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What?”
“You and Misha annoy me.”
“Why?”
“The bromance.”
“We’re homeys.”
“Whatever.” I read about Peter the Great. “Well, this guy was also a part of the Knights of Babylon. According to this, a lot of the architecture in Saint Petersburg pays homage to this cult.”
“That’s fucked up. I love the city’s architecture. Misha told me a lot about the history of those buildings. It really hit me hard.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Anyway, Saint Petersburg is considered the mecca of the Knights of Babylon.” I went to the next section which was labeled Initiation. “Hmmm. This can be helpful. When a person is entered into the Knights of Babylon they brand the person’s stomach with the symbol. So. . .if the person is with them, then they should have the star and eye burnt on their stomachs.”
“It could be a helpful way to see who’s with the group.”
“That’s right.”
“All we have to do now is go around and lift all of the Bratva guys’ shirts.”
“I wish life could be that simple. When we get to Yuri’s place, call, Kaz and let him know about the brands. He’s supposed to go back to the house and interrogate the security guys in the cells.”
“You mean torture the shit out of them to get answers?”
“That too.” I went through more portraits of historical names. “Damn. This group has pledged a lot of big people. Karl Marx. Friedrich Engels. Fyodor Dostoevsky—”
“I don’t know any of those people.”
“Old and famous dead white men.”
“Figures.”
“Even Rasputin.” I checked the next page. “I know a little about him. He was considered a Russian mystic who influenced the Russian Tsar Nicholas II, his wife, and their son.”
“He was part of the group of the Knights of Babylon too?”
“Yep.” I shook my head as I skipped more pages. “There’s also mention of high members of the Russian Communist Party and the KGB.”
“So, this country is not only run by the Bratva, but old white guys that like to sacrifice woman and drink their blood?”
“According to this book, yep.”
“Yeah. Let’s go to Jamaica, man. We’ve done our time in Russia. Let’s call it a rap. We can raise little Max junior on the beach. Give him some pictures of his dad and shit.”
The limo parked in front of a low-rise building.
“You just call Kaz and let him know about the brands on the stomach.” I shut the book and placed it back in the bag.
Boris left the van ahead of us, rushed over to the limo, and