Mafia's Bloodline | 18+

37 - A Woman's Intuition

It had been almost two months since Kirill had broken up with Mia. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall, slowly smoking a cigarette. It was not allowed in prison of course, but he was Kirill Alekseev, and he had different rules. And his time to get out of there was fast approaching.

"Алексеев! К стене!" (Alekseev! Face the wall!) a loud voice rang out right outside Kirill's cell.

Unhurriedly, Kirill passed his cigarette to his cell mate Igor as he got off the bed and moved his feet with confidence, taking his time, his eyes empty. Harsh jingle of keys and the slide of the cell door filled the air and Kirill stepped in front of the wall and hung his head, his hands behind his back without even having to think about it.

Cold metal on his wrists had no feeling anymore. He took his time to walk down the hallway, head raised, shoulders slumped, his eyes slowly gazing in front of him as his entire body fought for death to take it.

"There will be an opportunity next week. You do it dirty, with lots of blood, drag him around for a bit and threaten anyone close by. Then you get solitary for a week. Then we transfer you around mid March."

"I'll do what you tell me. I need a weapon." Kirill responded.

"There will be a kitchen knife placed for you, beside the serving station. We'll sit you by the kitchen entrance that week and he will be placed at the next table. You pick if you want lunch or dinner and the day."

"Understood. I need to make a phone call." Kirill spoke evenly.

There was silence in the room as the man Kirill was talking to was thinking it over.

"To who?"

"Just a friend." Kirill shrugged.

"When do you need it?" The man asked another question.

"Best if sooner."

The man took a minute to think about it. "Okay. Tomorrow night."

Kirill looked at him and nodded. Neither one spoke again as the door opened and Kirill was led out.

Kirill had occupied a special place in prison. He had used violence, his influence, and reputation to rise to the top. Once men began to answer to him, the manager who hated Kirill, couldn't take the disobedience of the inmates and the problems it caused for him. It would look bad on his record and despite being there for years, the conditions were such that he knew he had to transfer to keep his career.

Once Kirill's tormentor was gone, another manager took over his place and the new guy was much more forthcoming. Younger and hungrier, he had no previous personal experience with Kirill, he only knew about him.

He knew Kirill got in here under dubious circumstances and watched him closely. A favour for a favour, he had called Kirill in for a talk and knew their goals aligned. The manager wanted money which Kirill had plenty of, and Kirill wanted freedom, which could only be granted 'accidentally'.

One million US dollars. That was Kirill's price for freedom. An exorbitant bribe for a prison manager but Kirill had the funds and while he showed that he was mulling it over, he would have paid a hundred times more than that to get out of there.

The next evening, Kirill sat in a small private room as he made the call.

"Alyo?" Came a man's voice.

"Privet, Ivan. This is Kirill." Kirill responded confidently. After a brief silence, Ivan responded.

"Yes, Kirill Pavlovich, I'm listening." Kirill closed his eyes at hearing his patronymic middle name. He hated his father and hearing his father's name attached to his own made him boil inside with rage. But it was a non-negotiable in Russia. Forever linked to your father when you were shown respect.