Grim Begins: The Hero’s Journey of a Russian Mafia Boss – A Novel (GRIM SERIES Book 1) by Wiktor Miesok & Felix Charin

Author:Wiktor Miesok & Felix Charin [Miesok, Wiktor & Charin, Felix]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: White Matter
Published: 2025-05-29T18:30:00+00:00

The next morning, we drove to an industrial area by the river and parked on a concrete embankment overlooking the Volga, which was glistening brightly in the sunrise.

Ziya looked tired, and less eager than he had been the night before. He told me to keep my eyes peeled, as he counted and recounted the money to pay for the rugs.

After a while a Lada Vaz-2104 station wagon pulled over next to us. Morozov wasn’t there. Instead, the corporal I was playing cards with, and another young guy got out of the vehicle and waved at us.

“The captain couldn’t come this morning,” the corporal explained as we met them, “but we have everything.”

The back seats of the Lada had been removed, so the extended trunk was stacked with rolled up Afghani rugs.

Me and the other soldier loaded them into our van alongside the boxes of jeans we bought from the Georgians, while Ziya and the corporal moved to the side, and he counted out the money.

I made sure we got twenty rugs, as agreed, and when everything was loaded, I told Ziya we are good. He shook hands with the corporal, and we watched the two Morozov’s men drive away.

“Good deal, Andrej.” Ziya put an arm around my shoulder as we walked back to the van.

I got in on the passenger side, but Ziya went back and opened the backdoor.

“Coming right back, just want to make sure we got the good stuff,” he said from the rear.

“Why didn’t you check the stuff before giving them money?” I asked him shortly after, when he was sat in the driver’s seat.

“Blyat, Andrej, I drank too much yesterday. I am not thinking straight,” he moaned with frustration. “But it is all good. We’ll sell those for three hundred a piece in Moscow. Easy money!” He ended on a positive note, but it sounded forced.

“I can drive if you’re feeling lousy.”

“No, no worries. I am good. But we’ll get you a driver’s license in Moscow. Otherwise, we would have to pay double at each control.” He laughed, and I joined him.

It was the kind of bitter laughter of men who know that reality is fucked, but there is nothing they can do about it.

Ziya drove slowly out of Saratov, and he kept tapping one hand on the steering wheel. He didn’t talk much, and he constantly checked the mirrors.

I’d never seen him so nervous, but I also hadn’t seen him drunk or hungover before, so I thought that was that.

Well, knowledge is good, but it is the experience that really puts us ahead in life. With all the experience that I accumulated over the decades, I became a dangerous man, and one that is not easily tricked. It is not a boast; it is a fact.

But back then, I was still a greenhorn, a novice at life, and even though in hindsight I can see there were plenty of clues, that something was not right, it didn’t occur to me, until it was too late.

“Blyat,” Ziya squealed, obviously disturbed, “We are being followed.

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