The Russian Cartel (Chapter Two)

QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT  
New York, New York  

Marcus tossed and turned. He bolted to a sitting position, he reached under his pillow and grabbed his 357 and Glock he pulled the chamber back. He pointed both weapons in all directions around his darken bedroom. He inhaled slowing, inhaling, training his ears to listen to the surrounding sounds.  
 
Marcus rested his weapons on his pillow and reached over; he turned on the bedside lamp. He slicked his hand back through his dread locks. He had a nagging suspicion some shit was about to blow up in the wind. He tossed the covers back, swung his legs over the bed, and planted his feet on the egg shell colored carpet. He thought back a year ago to the night he took out Dmeshii in Belarus.  
 
BOHEMIAN LANE ESTATE  
Minsk, Belarus  
  
One Year Ago  
 
Zaniyah sat at a lengthen table surrounded by men of ranking distinguish, politicians, and the Russian elite. Some men were talking among themselves in various languages.  
   
Dmeshii leaned over and whispered in Zaniyah’s ear, “I cannot wait to get you under the covers again. You shall make me many great heirs.”  
   
Zaniyah felt someone’s eyes on her. She looked across the Grand Dining Room. Her eyes locked with a man whose facial expression seemed ruffled. His dark-brown eyes continued to stare at her.  
   
Zaniyah swarmed in her seat.  
   
Dmeshii looked at Zaniyah; he turned his head in the direction of her curiosity.  
   
“I would like to know why the man in the white thob looks upon Dmeshii’s woman with lust, and me with hatred,” Dmeshii whispered to his bodyguard sitting at his side. “Bring the fuck to my table.”  
   
Dmeshii’s bodyguard stood. The other four joined him.  
   
Zaniyah saw Dmeshii’s bodyguards walk in the direction of the stranger and the other men who sat around his table.  
   
“Be cool everybody, here comes trouble.”  
   
Special Field Agent Kline glanced down at his watch. They had to stall their company for ten more minutes.  
   
“Hey you.” Dmeshii’s bodyguard slapped Marcus on the back. “Mr. Yukisovo requests you at his table.”  
   
Marcus glanced at everyone around the table. Mr. Ramo nodded his head at Marcus.  
   
Marcus scooted his chair back and stood; he felt the back of his thob for his weapons. Marcus followed Dmeshii’s bodyguards.  
   
Dmeshii stood.  
   
“Welcome to this gathering…, Mr...”  
   
Zaniyah looked up into the stranger’s eyes who held her attention in return.  
   
“I am Prime Minister DelMod from abroad.”  
   
Marcus’ eyes sought Zaniyah.  
   
A hot flash assaulted Zaniyah’s libido.  
   
“Prime Minister DelMod, please join my table. My talks with my immediate circle were just concluding.”  
   
Dmeshii nodded his head at his soldiers and bobbled his head in the direction where Special Field Agent Kline, Special Field Agent Elk, Special Field Agent Habitué, Special Field Agent Barletta, Special Ops Edwarsons, Special Ops Ton, Lucky, and Mr. Ramo sat.  
   
Dmeshii’s soldiers ran over to the table, surrounded it, and then withdrew their weapons.  
   
“Stand.”  
   
Each man at the table, stood.  
   
Dmeshii’s Sovientnik’s pointed the tip of his M16 into Special Field Agent Kline’s back.  
   
Marcus looked over at his table. He glanced down at his watch. He had three more minutes until their plan goes into effect.  
   
Zaniyah watched Dmeshii’s bodyguards escort the eight men out his Sovientnik’s Grand Dining Room.  
   
Everyone seated began to whisper between himself and herself.  
   
The lights within his Sovientnik’s château flickered and then went off.  
   
Everyone in attendance began to scream.  
   
Zaniyah felt strong hands grip her waist.  
   
“Help me Dmeshii.”  
   
Dmeshii thought he heard Zaniyah’s voice over the melee.  
   
Everyone standing bumped into one another.  
   
Marcus removed a small flashlight from his back pants pocket. He held onto Zaniyah’s hand for dear life.  
   
There was a loud explosion heard, followed by two more.  
   
Marcus and Zaniyah made it outside safely.  
   
Both ran in the direction of a military chopper the tall hedges shrouded.  
   
Gunfire ricocheted off the tree barks.  
   
Another loud explosion shook Dmeshii’s Sovientnik’s château.  
   
“Do not look back beautiful woman.”  
   
Marcus removed his headdress, and then peeled the full beard from off his face; he dropped the items on the lawn.  
   
“Hurry up nephew, those fucking bullets are getting closer,” Mr. Ramo shouted.  
   
Marcus heard a bullet whiz pass his head. He stopped and turned around; he placed Zaniyah behind him.  
   
“You take another step you die. Come here Zaniyah.”  
   
Zaniyah stepped around Marcus.  
   
Marcus grabbed Zaniyah by the arm and placed her behind his back.  
   
“This woman is mine.”  
   
Dmeshii laughed. He looked at his bodyguards whose weapons were aimed at the helicopter.  
   
“Your western civilization customs plays no significance here. Zaniyah belongs to me. Come Zaniyah.”  
   
Zaniyah took a step forward.  
   
Marcus firmly grasped Zaniyah’s upper arm and placed her back behind him once again.  
   
“Director Modarius, you have less than a minute to step away from my woman. If not, your soldiers will die. And then I will let you watch me fucking my woman, before you join them.”  
   
Marcus did not move.  
   
“Motherfucka, if you did not have your soldiers behind your command, then we will see who the better man is.”  
   
Dmeshii’s soldiers cocked their guns in union and aimed it at Marcus’ chest.  
   
Zaniyah palmed Marcus’ lower back out of fear.  
   
Dmeshii looked at Marcus and laughed; he then spitted at Marcus’ feet.  
   
“I have never engaged in a fist-to-fist combat, but the American has forced Dmeshii’s hand for his soon to be ex-woman. Relax soldiers.” His soldiers lowered their weapons.  
   
“The winner the woman’s hand,” Marcus stated with creed.  
   
“And the loser death by my hands,” Dmeshii replied with a deadly intent.  
   
Dmeshii slowly removed his suit jacket.  
   
Marcus did not give Dmeshii a chance to take it off completely; he dropped his head and barged into him.  
   
Dmeshii toppled over.  
   
Marcus began slamming his fists into Dmeshii’s face repeatedly.  
   
“Stop it, before you kill him.”  
   
Zaniyah ran over to the two men. She kicked Dmeshii in his side.  
   
Dmeshii looked up and caught Zaniyah’s eyes.  
   
Marcus’ fist landed in Dmeshii’s face.  
   
Dmeshii grabbed Marcus around the neck and choked him.  
   
Marcus took both of his arms and flagged them out. He stood and stomped Dmeshii in his stomach several times.  
   
Zaniyah lifted Dmeshii’s weapon from off the lawn.  
   
Special Ops Ton jumped off the chopper. He ran over to Zaniyah and grabbed the weapon from out her hand; he lifted his thob, and placed it inside the waistband of his pants.  
   
Dmeshii and Marcus staggered to their feet.  
   
Dmeshii pulled a knife from out his back pants pocket.  
   
Marcus’ swollen eyes followed Dmeshii’s hand movement.  
   
Dmeshii flipped his knife open and concealed it at his side.  
   
“One thing you said I agree with.”  
   
“Speak before you die nigger.”  
   
“Western civilization customs plays no significance here mothafucka.”  
   
Marcus withdrew his glock and his 357 Magnum Revolver from out the back waistband of his pants.  
   
A gunshot whizzed pass Marcus’ ear. The bullet entered the center of Dmeshii’s chest.  
   
Dmeshii looked down; shock registered in his eyes, his knife fell from his grasp, his body slumped downward and then forward.  
   
Marcus turned around.  
   
Special Field Agent Kline placed his weapon back inside his gun holster worn under his thob. He turned around and ran back to the military chopper.  
   
Marcus placed his weapons back inside the waistband of his pants.  
   
“Oh Marcus.”  
   
Zaniyah threw her arms around Marcus’ neck and cried against his shoulder blade.  
   
Marcus secured Zaniyah’s body closer he squeezed her tighter.  
   
Zaniyah withdrew her face and looked up.  
   
“Come on you two,” Mr. Ramo hollered.  
   
Marcus looked around.  
   
Dmeshii’s bodyguards concealed his body within a circle.  
   
Marcus saw several more soldiers flooding out the château.  
   
Rapid gun fired rang out.  
   
“Fuck.”  
   
Special Field Agent Elk, Special Field Agent Habitué, Special Field Agent Barletta, Special Ops Edwarsons, Special Ops Ton, Marcus, Lucky, and Mr. Ramo stepped up into the chopper  
   
“Hurry baby, we have to reach the American Embassy.”  
   
Marcus and Zaniyah ran and boarded the chopper.  
   
“Man get this fucker into the air.”  
   
Everyone fired their weapon at the congregation running in the direction of the chopper.  
   
Numerous bodyguards fell to the green earth.  
   
The chopper ascended toward the sky.  
   
Each man uprooted their assault rifle and rested it between their thighs.  
   
“Nice job nephew.”  
   
Mr. Ramo leaned over and patted Marcus on his back.  
   
“Anytime uncle.”  
   
Marcus gave Mr. Ramo a fist-to-fist dab.  
   
“Agent Kline thanks man.”  
   
“No need too. Its part of my job to protect American citizen’s abroad.”  
   
Zaniyah looked down from the chopper; she caught a glimpse of Dmeshii’s corpse.  
   
Marcus pulled Zaniyah to him and hugged her.  
   
“I love you beautiful woman.”  
   
“I love you to Director Marcus Modarius.”  
   
“Are those motherfuckers gone,” Dmeshii stated.  
   
His bodyguards looked up as the chopper disappeared over the horizon.  
   
Dmeshii sat up. He popped his white shirt open. He rubbed over the soreness throbbing under the two Kevlar vests he wore.  
   
“Mr. Yukisovo, should we pursue?”  
   
“No, as long as they think I’m deceased the better, I can sneak into American, grab my woman that nigger has taken from me, and continue to operate my business as before; however, without the legal hindrance.”  
   
Dmeshii stood with the assistance of one of his bodyguards.  

QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
   
Marcus thought back to the conversation he had with the American Embassy in Belarus and the copy of an official death certificate he has yet to see cross his desk. Marcus palmed down his goatee down and then cupped the back of his neck, massaging the tension cords. He lifted his cell phone and pushed in ten numerical numbers; he placed the cell phone up to his ear.  
   
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