The Rise of Chloe, A Cavazutti Crime Novel

By Carlo Cavazutti

Mikhail Brozovitch has come up through the ranks of Spetsnaz, KGB and the FSB. Now the highly trained operator has turned arms dealer to the worst of the worst all over the world with the blessings of his Kremlin masters. But he makes one fatal step making a multi tens of million dollar deal with one of Mother Russia’s sworn enemies, the Chechens. He is forced to flee with his beloved Marisha who is also the mistress of President Grigori Chekov. Not only are they pursued by the FSB but also one very deadly female assassin known as Gina and her protégé Chloe.

Gina, Chloe and the FSB chase Mikhail all through Eastern Europe, Italy and Sicily before they can corner him in a secreted mountain hideaway in the hills near Catania which is overshadowed by Mount Etna. Two distinct Mafia clans control the area through which they must pass, and both clans demand their tribute. After all, deals must be brokered.

As the story progresses many subplots emerge with character development, humor, graphic violence and intense sexual situations. It all comes together at the end interlaced with deceit, betrayal and hopefully salvation. Who escapes, dies and what becomes of the survivors is revealed only at the end.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melange Books, LLC
• Release date: Nov 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781680468397

Carlo Cavazutti

Carlo has been in law enforcement in New York. His career included undercover missions with the DEA, State Police. He also coordinated inter-agency task forces and investigated all types of crimes before retiring as a detective, before moving to Massachusetts where he worked as a private investigator, specializing in undercover operations and interrogation. Carlo also worked as an Executive Protection Agent with clients such as a presidential nominee; working closely with the Secret Service, federal judges, senators and congressmen. He also drove CEO’s from several fortune 500 Companies. Carlo received his Bachelor of Arts, majoring in Criminology, from the State University of NY system. Today he writes from an undisclosed location in Texas and continues his education seeking a Masters in Criminal Organizations.

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Prologue

Kedainiai, Lithuania Eastern Europe / Present Time

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Taking everything in the quaint village had to offer, Mikhail Brozovitch sat in the tiny coffee shop run by an older couple. There were lines etched unkindly into their faces, plowed deep by the sun like the earthy folk they were. Here in Kėdainiai, Lithuania, was a well-preserved old town that dated back to the 17th century. Prior to WWII, Kėdainiai had a large Jewish population of approximately 3,000 people, several synagogues, and a Jewish cemetery. It was the kind of small village that Mikhail favored. Passing cars on the road spoke with a clackity-clack as their tires traveled over the cobblestone, along with the clopping of horses shod hooves pulling carts home from the market. The old alongside the new coexisted harmoniously.

Homes still had the same ancient stone foundations and thatched roofs as they had for centuries. Visiting Kedainiai was like a journey into the past and Mikhail could imagine the horse—or oxen-drawn carts taking goods to the market in the square, folks milling about dressed in their ethnic clothing examining what the open air market had to offer.

Dogs loped about the streets with their sideways gait that all dogs walk with, looking for a handout or a bit of discarded food. They growled at those that tried to pet them without something first to offer.

The coffee shop and bakery where he was seated was no Starbucks but far better in his opinion. There was no WiFi or music or the latest generation of computer nerds taking up all the seats sipping the latest overpriced fad drink. Residents sat reading papers or talking local politics while drinking the rich coffee, but Mikhail kept to himself.

A pastry case containing fresh baked goods indigenous to the region sat at the back of the shop where the register was perched on top of the glass counter. Nothing fancy. They did things the old way and roasted their own beans.

There were several brew choices available and he sipped from the tiny cup that contained the thick, black, aromatic coffee. The scent alone from the double-roasted espresso beans was enough to keep him on point and alert. Each time he lifted the cup earthy notes and hints of vanilla rose up to fill his nose.

His thick neck twisted from side to side deftly taking in his surroundings, every person, every action. Each person that moved or paced back and forth he eyed with suspicion. Or if they stayed too stationary for a second more than he thought necessary, he would perceive them as a threat.

He had not left the KGB and later the FSB, Foreign Security Service, renamed under Boris Yeltsin, without the skills necessary to detect a tail or surveillance. If they wanted him bad enough, they would throw numbers at him and he wouldn’t be able catch them all. He might neutralize a few, but in the end, it would conclude with him lying in a pool of his own blood, hence him forfeiting his life. If they captured him alive, it would be a slow death, tortured for the trespass he had committed.

They would first have to find him as no one remained invisible forever, just a matter of time and logistics. More than likely they would send an assassin that would have no trail back to them, to the President. It was the way they worked when they didn’t want to soil their own filthy corrupt hands.

They not only cared about the tens of millions he had stolen from them in his latest shady arms transaction, but that he had dealt with the Chechens—that was a no-no. Their greatest revenge would be that he didn’t get to spend his illicit gains before they terminated him. Russia had been fighting with the Chechens for years and because they were Muslim terrorists, the entire deal caused issues for their allies, namely the United States, regardless of how loose the association was or how friendly Past-President Putin had seemed to be with one US President.

Most of the cash had been stashed in offshore accounts under assumed names and shell corporations, but he held onto an amount that permitted him to keep moving for the time being. For him it was the only way he might survive. He could make no friends. That would sign their death warrants. But all be told, he hated leaving the charm of this quaint village of Kedainiai and its better-than-average coffee shop. Besides, Europe was full of them, some more hospitable than others. Even with the progress after the fall of the old Soviet Union, many of these towns and villages had not stepped out of the 19 th century let alone into the 20 th. Yes, it was a much saner time.

Tomorrow he would have to leave. Too many of the townsfolk had seen him numerous times and therefore may remember him even with his unremarkable face. His plastic surgeon had made sure of that. When the FSB came looking, those same townsfolk would talk if they knew what was good for them. Who knows, it may make them a few dollars if they pointed in the right direction and he couldn’t blame them one bit.

Money was hard to come by, especially greenbacks. The United States dollar could buy anything even cheaper than the local currency allowed.

If the plastic surgeon had done as good a job as he felt he did, then the pictures of him that his persecutors would show to the townspeople would be unrecognizable. His brow, nose, and jawline had all been enhanced or taken away, depending on the desired effect. His scars had healed fast and no one outside of a trained professional could tell he had the procedure. They would have to say they did not know him.

Unless of course the FSB or their delegates had gotten to the surgeon. He thought for a time that he should have killed the surgeon leaving no loose ends, but the doctor had treated him like family during his recovery. People like the doctor, well, let’s just say it doesn’t take a great deal to get them to talk and then he would be dead anyway. Mikhail’s way was much more merciful. A muffled cough took care of the problem. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was not a murderer even though he sold arms to anyone for the price.

Tomorrow he would sort through his passports, cash, and other personal items and decide where his next move would play out.

Chapter One

The Bunker / Present Time

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My crew had slipped out of town as discretely as they had entered, blending into the throng of rush-hour traffic and the ever-lengthening evening shadows created by the slowly sinking, setting sun. The reds, yellows, and orange it produced were spectacular tonight, almost as spectacular as those on a Caribbean island. If a Caribbean sunset was just right, it was rumored that one could see a green flash as the sun fully set. Coupled with the large puffy cumulus clouds, the sky looked like a scene out of a fairy tale.

There was an eeriness of quiet throughout the bunker except for the occasional newscast or activity in the kitchen for the few of us that remained. Our conversation was muted for fear of disturbing the young girl in the room she shared with Gina. She probably didn’t know we even existed, let alone know where she was.

Gina kept her sedated and even if we had spoken in a normal tone, she probably wouldn’t have heard us due to the acoustics. Aside from a moan or a retching sound, we didn’t know she existed either except for the fact that we had rescued her, or I should say Gina rescued her.

As for the girl, a dark heavy fog raged in her brain and pain racked her body as every muscle contracted at once and held for what seemed like an eternity. I had been there a few times myself after late-night dates with too much Booker’s, forcing myself to hold it down while slumped in the back seat of an Uber.

Her stomach did somersaults as she leaned over the side of the bed and attempted to empty the contents of an unfed stomach. Nothing came out. The room seemed to dance about in a mad choreography of spinning, adding to her disorientation and ill feeling. The unfamiliar surroundings didn’t help and caused her to panic slightly. She knew it wasn’t her room which gave her more pause for alarm.

Even though her stomach revolted she felt famished at the same time. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate but sensed it had been a while.

Chloe felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder and a soft voice assuring her, and said, Lay back, you are safe. Take this. The woman whose voice she heard and touch she felt on her shoulder handed her a glass of water and a pill. Chloe at first recoiled as she had a cloudy, vague memory of the last time she was touched, which hadn’t been a pleasant experience.

What is this and who are you? she managed in a low moaning voice. She was trying to be assertive while scrunching up her face and drawing back.

Right now I am your best friend. This is something to help the pain and the withdrawal. I’ve been injecting it into the IV but now that you are awake you can take it orally. I carried you out of that hellhole you were trapped in. Do you recall anything?

The last thing I remember, I was at a nice restaurant and then my mind seemed to float away like I had no control over what I did. How long have I been here and what happened to me? Where’s my mother, please, I need to call her right now, she said as she swallowed the pill and gulped the water to quench her parched throat. Her mouth tasted nasty and her breath smelled worse. What, wait a minute, did you say withdrawal? Please tell me what happened and why does my arm have these marks on it, and what is this stuck in me? She was referring to the Lactated Ringer’s IV that was inserted into the back of her left hand to keep her hydrated.

You’re really dehydrated but let the pill work and the spasms will stop. I will tell you everything once you’re not in pain, Gina said in a calm but assuring voice. I’ll get you something to eat and when you are ready to get up there’s a shower. You can clean yourself up good. Everything you need is in there along with a toothbrush and toothpaste. I’m sure you could use it. I’ve been sponging you off, but you need a good, long, hot shower. Now, what would you like to eat?

Just some toast would be fine. That’s what my mom always made me when I didn’t feel well. And thank you, whoever you are.

All right, just lay back until after you eat. I’ll bring you some ginger ale to help with settling your stomach. And you may call me Gina.

Gina left the room and entered the kitchen area of the bunker. Sly and I were the only ones around having our usual sip. For those unaware, our usual sip is a glass of Booker’s Bourbon. Brit was upstairs in the club cleaning with the rest of Sly’s crew. The place needed a cleaning after the last couple of weeks, and all signs of everything had to go away—meaning forensic signs. And what had to go away was blood and gore.

How is she? I inquired.

"She doesn’t remember anything yet, but she wants to know what happened. I’m debating what and how much I should tell her, but I am inclined to tell her the truth. I would want to know, waking up in a strange room, not knowing anyone or anything and feeling sicker than shit. I wish we could have given them a small measure of what they did to her, Gina said in reference to the Albanians. Imagine what she would have endured had they made away with her."

She would have been better off dead, Sly commented. I’m glad we got to her in time.

I think killing them all was a pretty good start at payback. But then again, they won’t have the pleasure of emotional scars like she will, I said.

Gina said, I made it out, she will too. By the time I am done with her no one will fuck with her again.

Care to share? I asked not letting her Freudian slip get past me.

Share what? What I’m going to do with her?

You said you made it out, care to elaborate?

My focus is on her, not what happened to me. Maybe someday if you’re a good boy. In the meantime, I hate your total recall, she replied. That devious little smile appeared on her face and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. No doubt it would be a good tale, a little sad and a lot bloody if I knew Gina.

She was a lethal assassin with kills all over the world making her targets of no use to anyone anymore. She had more than double the number of kills that Chris Kyle, the American sniper, had and that was a lot to be said.

The toast popped up golden brown and hot. Gina slathered butter on both pieces, took some honey and a jar of jelly, and placed them on the tray to take to Chloe. Hopefully she will be able to keep this down. I am going to start her on withdrawal today, cold turkey, after I talk to her, so this may be all she will eat for a few days. Her withdrawal could take up to seven days and none of it fun.

Whatever you need we’re here to help, I said.

How are you feeling, able to breathe any better? Gina asked referring to the twelve-gauge shotgun slug I took in the trauma plate of my vest.

Every day it gets a little easier, thanks for asking, I responded. Gina walked away with the tray as if my answer was not required. But then again that was just Gina being Gina.

Alright, sit up and try to eat this. I brought jelly and honey if you have a taste for it. We can talk as you eat, Gina told the girl as she mopped her brow with a cool cloth and pushed the girl’s hair behind her ears. Gina helped her sit up and placed pillows behind her back to prop her up. Chloe picked up the knife that Gina had placed on the tray and she spread the berry jelly over the two slices of toast and took a bite.

As she chewed, she asked, Okay, first question, where am I?

You are in Boston at a friend of a friend’s club in what they like to call the bunker. As you can see, it is a bit lavish.

Swallowing her first bite she then asked, Why am I here?

You said earlier that you remember a restaurant. Do you know the name of it? Gina said while evading the answer and prodding her for more information. Gina was no rookie when it came to interview and interrogation, just like yours truly.

I think it was called Strega, it was by the water, she said while chewing.

Do you remember who you were with?

She took another bite and said, Yes, I think he was a big Albanian man, his name was Alban. We had some fun the night before, if you know what I mean. She looked down while smiling and her face and neck turned red with embarrassment. Yes, that’s it, his name was Alban. The food was good but then I don’t remember much at all.

You’re right, his name was Alban. Alban Tole. He was an Albanian mobster and he drugged you, probably with ecstasy and then heroin. That is why you have the marks on your arms.

Why would he do that? He was going to take me to New York and give me a job and live with him, she said with a hint of sadness and disbelief. Who did you say he was? Her dream of escaping from her humdrum existence vanished with her new reality. She continued to eat the toast waiting to hear more from Gina.

Oh, he was going to take you to New York all right, but not to live with him. He was a mobster. But let me start at the beginning so it all makes sense to you.

Gina brought her up to speed about what had transpired over the last couple of weeks and stopped just short of the raid. Chloe curled up in the bed and hung on every word Gina told her. The rest of what I have to tell you is not pretty and it may upset you. Are you sure you want to hear it all?

I’d rather know now than later or not at all.

You’re a brave girl, and we found video proof of what happened to you over several days, Gina told the girl and the color seemed to drain out of her face.

It was bad, wasn’t it? Chloe queried after seeing a few of the video clips.

It was, but I’ll just tell it like I saw it. I believe in getting right to the heart of the matter. I tend to be blunt, Gina said looking straight into Chloe’s eyes. She continued, They hooked you on heroin and gang-raped you over several days. They were then going to take you to New York and make you work in the sex trade, making porn and prostituting you. But you no longer have to worry about them. I was the one that found you and carried you out. I made sure you were examined by an OB-GYN doctor here and there was nothing seriously wrong, but you will be sore for a while. Do you understand all I’m telling you?

Yeah, yes, I do, but why me, what did I do to make them do that to me? I don’t have a disease, do I?

You’re a naïve young girl and those men live to find young girls like you and make promises they never intend to keep. It was not your fault, and like I said you don’t have to worry about them anymore. And you do not have any diseases. The doctor checked. The only thing you have extra are a couple of stitches and I will take them out in a few more days.

Where are the stitches? Chloe asked.

In your lady parts. You had a little tear so be gentle when you wash.

What happened to them? she asked.

We killed them all, to answer your question, Gina answered without missing a beat and being her blunt self.

Chloe looked at Gina in disbelief but then said, Too bad for them, they deserved it. But my mother, I need to talk to her. I need to let her know I am okay.

I spoke with your mom the other day while you were sleeping. She knows you are safe and that you will call once we get you well. I want you to be strong when you talk to her, not weak. Your strength will lift her up. She’s been a mess, but I reassured her you were all right. Also, the man that owns this place dropped off an envelope with money for your daughter.

He did? Why would he do that and how did he know I had a daughter? Gina saw Chloe’s eyes well up at the mention of her daughter.

Let’s leave it at that—he is a good, honorable man. Your picture was all over the news, that’s how he knew. Your mom reported you missing.

Chloe was baffled and a little confused, but Gina assured her she would get it all sorted out.

How long will I be here?

For about another week while you detox, and then we—you and me—are leaving and I will train you. When I am finished with your training, no man will ever lay a hand on you if you don’t want him too. I have very special skills that I will not go into here and I am willing to teach those to you. You look athletic so you should do well. I am a hard teacher, but I think you can handle it. It will help with your recovery. Who knows, you may find a new career path.

Chloe seemed a bit uplifted and smiled for the first time since Gina had found her. The smile Gina saw showed that Chloe had hope and was not going to let what happened to her ruin the rest of her life.

Besides you, who rescued me?

We came to the warehouse for another reason. You just happened to be there, and I found you. But the people who were with me were very heavy hitters. Some of the best in the business. They are not people you would want to cross so leave it at that. They are glad I got you out of there.

Chloe’s puzzled look returned to her face. You mean the military or police by heavy hitters?

They were very special former military and law enforcement.

Chapter Two

Road to Recovery

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Chloe had managed to hold down the toast partly due to the last and final dose of morphine that Gina had given her. She also drank several large glasses of water along with the ginger ale and Gina felt it safe to take out the IV that had been running for the last three days.

You ready to get cleaned up? I’m sure a hot shower will make you feel better.

After what you told me, I think I want to spend the rest of my life in the shower to wash all of their nasty filth off of me, Chloe said referring to the bodily fluids that had been expelled on her while she had been captive. Oh my God, I just thought of something. I couldn’t take my birth control. Oh shit, I hope one of those fucking degenerates didn’t get me pregnant. Anger flashed in her eyes.

It only takes once to wash it off the outside, but up here, pointing to her head, it may take longer and that I will teach you how to do. We will turn it into a positive. I also had the doctor check you for that and she said you were all clear.

Okay, Chloe said. I’ll take your word for it. I think I can trust you. And thank you, Jesus, for small favors. I may have to go back to church. Momma would love it if I did.

Trust is relative, Chloe. It is one of the lessons you will learn, but for now you are very safe with me. As for God, I put my faith elsewhere like my abilities, but I know Carlo and Sly both believe in a higher power. So if you do, then good for you. Just not for me, I believe He abandoned me a long time ago, but we are not here to discuss my beliefs in a God.

Wait, who are Carlo and Sly? Who else is here? she asked inquisitively and somewhat puzzled.

Sly owns this place and Carlo is the man that killed the bastard that put you in the position you are in. He also took a shotgun blast to the chest. Fortunately he had on body armor. You need to thank him. This whole thing was his op. Now, let me help you up and into the shower, then you are on your own.

Gina helped the girl into the shower and turned on the water. Chloe let the hot steamy spray cover her for what seemed like hours as she sat on the bench seat in the shower. She washed and rinsed several times. Gina was right about being sore in her privates and she had to wash delicately there. She was swollen and bruised but took Gina’s word that she was intact. Besides, it would be some time before any man saw her hoo-ha again. She was amazed at the amount of dirt that washed off her body and her hair. Her hair, what a mess. It was knotted and tangled but with a few applications of conditioner she was able to at least get her fingers through it. She was sure a comb would soon glide through it.

She felt some redemption as the hot water soothed her aching body from the abuse and withdrawal. Chloe started to feel like the girl she was before all this happened, and somewhere deep down she knew she would get through the trauma she endured and show Gina she was worthy of being saved. Chloe open the shower door, turned off the waterfall showerhead, and brushed