Boris handled disputes, watched over the common fund, welcomed new men into the upper circle, and judged those who had seriously crossed the line. Life behind the walls moved in its usual rhythm.
But he could see with growing concern that the criminal world around him was changing fast. Younger men were arriving with a completely different set of values. They wanted money, and they wanted power.
The old rules meant nothing to them. They called themselves proper men, but in truth they were reckless opportunists. In 1987, a man named Vitaly Rogov arrived in the colony. His nickname was Bull.
He was twenty-five, huge, loud, and full of swagger. He bragged nonstop that he was a major figure from the capital and that everybody there respected him. Boris had already heard about him on the outside.
Reliable word had reached him that Bull was shaking down businesses and working with local officials while hiding behind the old code. Bull came to Boris on his second day in the colony.
“I hear you’re the one making decisions here,” he said, not even bothering to greet him. “I’m joining the top tier, so give the word.” Boris looked at him for a long, cold moment.
He saw empty eyes, hard and greedy. He looked at the man’s hands and noticed the calluses of gym weights, not real work. His behavior was all nerve and no judgment.
“No,” Boris said simply.
“What do you mean, no?” Bull snapped. “I told you who I am and who stands behind me.”
“I’ve heard exactly who you are,” Boris said. “That’s why the answer is no.” Bull jerked forward, ready to say something reckless. Boris only raised his right hand slightly.
The gesture was small, almost invisible. But at once several hard, silent men moved closer, as if they had appeared out of the walls.
“Go do your time,” Boris said evenly. “This isn’t your place.” Bull turned and walked off, but within a week he was already stirring up trouble…
