Mobtop -

With three keystrokes, he told the ghost drone that the gold depository was actually the basement of Viktor’s own mansion. Then he told every other drone in the sky that Viktor’s mansion was dropping 50 kilos of uncut heroin.

“Not mine,” hissed Mikhael from the Bratvas. mobtop

Lev Tarasov didn’t need a gun. He had gravity. With three keystrokes, he told the ghost drone

The rain over Verensk had a name: Lev “The Sponge” Tarasov. He wasn’t a killer or a thief. Lev ran the mobtop —the clandestine airspace above the city’s five crime families. With three keystrokes

Lev exhaled smoke. “Same as always. Nobody owns the mobtop. You just rent it from me.”

The Turks were already screaming in broken Russian.