Chapter 1: Sarah the Drunk and Boris the Don

It was either six fifteen or three thirty. Sarah Morton didn’t really care. After a whole night of drinking at the Dogs Ear Bar her brain was rid of the case she was working on for the FBI. Missing Senator. The thought bursted to her mind after a hours of fighting it with hard liquor. She tried to push it away, but it persisted. Jim Brown was the fifth politition to be kidnapped, and no clues were turning up. It seemed like they – whoever they were – had a man on the inside…

“Bartender! Gimme a beer… to go!”

She walked down the lonely streets of Miami. Thoughts racing through my head like gazelles. Who would be next? Why are these killings happening? She was getting ahead of herself… Sanity coming to her mind she remembered how her boss hated it when she arrived at work drunk or hung over. A new thought sprung came to her head. What is her boyfriend going to think? She has been saying she has been gone to meetings but has taken those times to get hammered at the Dogs Ear Bar.

She was here at my boyfriend’s new townhouse. She sat in front for a second. The realationship had all started out when he was accused of stealing from a Russian man named Boris Petrov. Boris had been marked a “person of interest” for being accused of multiple murders, but never was arrested. Some said Boris had bribed the judges and juries, or worse. Some said he just had good lawyers. And no one said he was innocent, ecept for the bribed/threatened/blind/etc. judge and jury. Even though he was “proven” innocent the government has always been trying to get his for being in the Russian Mafia. became his girlfriend so I could sneak around, and see if he was guilty. Soon, I fell for him. When the court declared him not guilty, I stayed with him and he does not know anything. I got ready for some more lying.

She stepped in Alexander’s house, singing a song. He sleepily looked off the television and said, “You didn’t go to counseling, did you?” He sighed and looked at me, with her bottle of beer still sagging sadly from her left arm.

“Let me guess, you aren’t going to your alcaholic meetings.” He passed around the living room, and knocked a book to the floor, which was barely hanging onto a old, antique, expensive desk near their comfy couch with his hand. “You can’t keep doing this Sarah you’re 34! Soon you’ll drink yourself to death!” He walked back across the room and started warming up breakfast in the kitchen with his new state-of-the-art toaster. So she guessed it was six thirty…“Want some?” He asked. “ Nah” She replied, continuing with a new suspision, “Anyways, how are you making so much money these days? You own a small shark aquarium, I don’t think you make that much.” He was a bit annoyed. He told her “Please don’t change the subject, dear.” Suddenly a wave of tiredness washed over her. “I’m gonna go to bed. I think that we sho…” Her sentence drifted off as her eyes grew heavy. He looked at her waiting for something. She swatted off the glanxe. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow” she said collapsing on his new bed, turning on the news for a brief moment. “…And that’s how the weather is today.” The next newscaster appeared on the screen. “The missing Senators are yet to be found. A source says that the CIA was just thrown in the cas-” She tuned off the TV and went to sleep.

That morning at Ten AM, her alarm clock woke her up. Groaning, she started going to work in the train. Now a pounding and throbbing headache ran through her heard, starting from the back and slowly reaching her right eye. She looked at her badge. It clearly stated ‘Detective Sarah Morton, FBI Drug unit’ the homeless man sitting next to her on the train peered at the badge to and handed her, her wallet, then dashed away through an open door. Sarah barely even noticed this, for her eyes - as sore as they were – were concentrated on the badge. The name ‘Sarah Morton’ stated clearly on the badge was fake. As fake as the reason she tells herself why to drink. Her father used to run a Mafia in Russia, and probably still did. She and her mom never had much contact with him, but he had always loved them, and always wanted to come and see them, but he was afraid of endangering them. Currently, she hasn’t heard from her brother (who was also in the business) or father in seven years. Last Sarah had heard of them, they set up a car bombing, but the case was called off because there wasn’t enough evidence to arrest Sarah’s brother and father.

Sarah wiped her nose, knowing she was coming down with a cold, the vigorously sneezed on the passenger sitting next to her. Recently, she had not been feeling well, and she had almost took the day off. Saying sorry, she read her new James Patterson book for the rest of the ride.

* * *

Somewhere over the Atlantic

Whimpering came from the back of the jet. His think Russian Accent gave away his nationality. “Shut up, or I’ll shut you up!” The captive was quiet. Boris Petrov dealt the cards like a master to his employees. When one of the yelled “Blackjack!” he hit the table. Boris was a loner. When he was eleven, his family except his younger brother, perished in a car bombing. Being the older brother he had to raise his brother, Igor. The reason his family perished was because his father and Grandfather were both Dons in the Mafia. Passing on the family business, he is now one too.

A man named Alexander White tried to steal money from him a year or so back, but Boris found him. Being merciful and wise, Boris didn’t kill him because Alexander owns a small shark aquarium, which meant disposal of evidence.

Recently, Boris has been affected by the recession, sadly like most people. To get money the family he has started a drug-dealing ring. Over the past year he has made over $300,000 by selling crack cocaine, marijuana, heroin, and some crystal meth. Unfortunately, Corrupt Politicians looking for a way to please the public have stumbled onto his ring. Some tried to blackmail him. They were sniped. Some tried to get in the project. The not trustworthy ones were drowned. Some tried to tell the public. They were shark chow. Jim Brown, sitting in the back had tried to tell the public.

Boris laughed. It started out as a small chuckle but I burst into full-fledged laughter. This was just the start of it; soon, when he had the power (in men) he would kill the family of George Henry, then Henry himself. The man who killed Boris’s family. Many call him crazy, some may call him a monster, but no doubt about it; Boris would be “creative”