Page 2 of Blood & Snow

No one will even recognize him.

And the trucks were torched after being stripped clean, but not before someone spray-painted Sokolov Brotherhood tags across the sides.

It's a sight that makes my blood boil, so I imagine what Markov is thinking as he reviews the failure.

I'll never let it stand, but if it's gotten to the level of the Pakhan already, it means I'm in hot water.

"Arkady Sokolov is making a play for our territory," I tell him. "He's been planning this campaign for months."

"Our people," Markov says. "Your responsibility."

He slides another photograph across the desk.

Yaroslav Sokolov stands outside his father's restaurant in Zamoskvorechye with his arms crossed, smiling at whoever took the picture.

Twenty-eight years old and stupid enough to believe his father's reputation makes him untouchable. I'd wipe him off the map faster than he could blink.

"This boy thinks he can challenge forty years of Bratva control in Moscow," Markov continues. "Seven shipments stolen in two months. Seven failures that point directly to your operations."

Markov is not a stupid man, but he is drawing conclusions that aren't even reasonable.

He thinks I've allowed the Brotherhood to operate against us for eight weeks and that I've been doing nothing.

His accusation is that either I'm losing control of my territory or I'm working with Sokolov to steal from the organization that made me.

Both possibilities end with my execution.

"What do you want me to do about it?" I ask.

"End them." Markov gathers the photographs and slides them into a manila folder.

"Every member of the Sokolov Brotherhood. Every business that pays them tribute. Every contact who feeds them information. I want the entire organization erased from Moscow."

"That's a substantial operation," I tell him. "It will take time to plan properly."

My mind is already running through scenarios of how I could accomplish this and how long it would take.

"You have until midnight on New Year's Eve."

Just over two months to dismantle an organization that has been entrenching itself in Southern Moscow for years.?

Arkady Sokolov owns restaurants, construction companies, trucking firms.

His son commands fifty soldiers who grew up in the neighborhoods they now control.

Destroying them won't be a matter of eliminating key figures.

It will require systematic annihilation of their entire network.

"That could take months, Boss. New Year's isn't that far out."

I'm not making excuses, but I'm only one man.

Accomplishing that task means spilling enough blood to fill a swimming pool in a really short time.

"Then you should get to work quickly."

He takes the folder and slides it into his desk drawer and glares at me.