by Jack Dayton
“I am doing well, Dr. Quinn. I have been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and have a position with the Headquarters.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Faraj. I am honored to be talking to someone of such position.”
“Oh, please, Doctor. You know me as Hassan and you do me the honor of being my friend.”
“Hassan, you know I value your friendship and that is why I am calling. If you can help me, I need a favor.”
“Dr. Quinn, name it. I am happy to help in any way I can.”
“Hassan, I need some information about someone who used to work for a Qatari contractor for the Marines in Afghanistan. His name is Anton Kulyak . . . K-U-L-Y-A-K . . . and he worked on Operation Khanjar in Helmand in 2009. That is all I know.”
“Okay. Do you know the contractor’s name?”
“No, unfortunately, I don’t. I am really hoping you can fill in some blanks, like which contractor he worked for, how he was hired, what happened when he left the contract. Things like that.”
“Okay, yes. I can see what is available on him. Do you still have the same phone and email?”
“Yes, all the same. I don’t want to pressure you, Major, . . . I mean, Lieutenant Colonel, but we are working on something and the sooner we get the information the better.”
“No, that’s good . . . good to know that. I will do my best, Dr. Quinn.”
“I know the results of your research will be helpful. You are a complete professional, Lieutenant Colonel.
“Please, I learned to be thorough at the University. And I have much to thank you for, as well.”
“It was my honor, Hassan. I hope what you find helps us.”
“So do I, Dr. Quinn.”
Chapter 17
Vance checked his watch. 2300. He had tried Pike’s number but he hadn’t answered. He’d have to go over unannounced. It couldn’t be helped. He had thought through the options and he finally had to admit he needed some help. For one thing, it would be good to have a former Recon guy backing him up. The added advantage was Pike’s Russian. Vance wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him and there may be situations where it would be helpful.
Vance rolled up to the address Pike had given him, a block of apartments in the Navy Yard section of DC. The security door was coded so all he could do was hit Pike’s apartment number and hope he was in. Shaking his head, he punched in the number and waited. The rasp of an open line finally yielded a loud “Yeah?” Vance hit the call button, almost shouting “Pike!”
“Repeat . . . Yeah?”
“Corny, this is Vance. Can I come up?”
“Vance, what the fuck? Yeah, come up but what the fuck?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.”
The door buzzed and clicked as Vance entered. He easily found Pike’s door and knocked twice. After a pause, during which Vance knew he was checking through the peep hole, Pike cracked the door, the security chain still engaged. Pike scanned the hall and checked Vance up and down. Satisfied that he was alone and not in some kind of hostage mode, he closed the door, checked the chain and let him in. Vance noted Pike was naked but had a Glock in his right hand.
Pike’s face was skewed into an expression betraying his earlier question. “Really, Vance?”
“Hey, I tried to call but there was no answer.”
“Yeah, I just got done with PT and was in the shower. What is so GD important that you are here at this hour?”
“You have to swear? And full commando? Really? Not even some red silkies?”
“Yeah, I have to swear!” Pike’s exasperation was on full display. “And what GODDAMM business is it of yours what the fuck I wear? Or don’t wear? What is goin’ on, man?”
“Okay, I get it. I need your help, Pike. But you have to put clothes on to help me.”
“Oh, funny. You doing humor now. At 2315.” Pike’s skepticism was apparent. “You comin’ up here like you failed a piss test or somethin’.”
“I know. I’m sorry but I told you what was going on. Two Marines dead and now a Norwegian officer we worked with and the only link I have is to this Chechen that knew us in Afghanistan.”
“And what does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing except I need some back-up. I am going to see this guy and I need somebody to watch my 6.”
“Now. You need somebody now.”
“It is important, Pike. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.”
Pike sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, give me a chance to get my shit.”
“Pike, I owe you. Really, thanks.” Vance’s gratitude was apparent. Thank God for Marines and the bonds formed in hard service was all he could think.”
“Yeah, well, shut the fuck up and let me get dressed.”
“Pike, one other thing.” Pike turned back to look at Vance. “Bring the Glock.”
“You have to tell me? Damn. You got yours?”
Vance lifted his coat to show his hip, .45 with two mags on the other side. Pike nodded smiling. The District of Columbia’s prohibition of weapons was a constant source of irritation for Marines, including the Commandant. As much as Marines believed in the rule of law, that was one that they routinely might risk getting caught breaking.
Within minutes they were walking out to Vance’s Prius. As they approached, Pike stopped walking. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What kind of jackassery is this? We goin’ in that thing?”
“Well, yeah,” Vance returned. “This is all I got.”
“Oh, hell, no, we ain’t,” Pike turned around and started walking away.
“Pike, c’mon, I need you.
“I get that but we ain’t goin’ in that.” He kept walking, pulled out a remote and unlocked a massive black extended cab Chevy Silverado parked in the apartment lot. “If we’re gonna do this, this is our ride.” Vance needed no convincing as he slid into the passenger seat.
“Oscar mike.”
“Roger that.”
* * *
It took twenty minutes to navigate the late-night roads of the District to Le Vizit Café. The shortest route by GPS took them down Independence Avenue along the Mall and then across to Pennsylvania Avenue. The both turned to look at the Lincoln Memorial far to the left and the Capital on the right. As they passed the green expanse of Washington’s most prized space, it caught Vance, seeing those monuments to all he believed in and had fought for. The pride, and at the same time, the humility. The feeling of being lucky to defend this country.
He knew Pike felt the same way even though it was a heavier burden to carry. He’d been out with him enough times to note the way people responded to him. A black man of his size was forced to manage other peoples’ reactions and that kept him and anyone with him frosty and aware. The complicated history of the country was something he shouldered in ways Vance would never be able to know fully. It’s what made his commitment all the more intense, the determination to stand firm and faithful regardless of the injustice. He knew Pike was a friend who had never let him down and wouldn’t now and that Pike would say the same about him.
All this was playing through his mind as they got closer to Le Vizit. Vance filled in some of the blanks for Pike as they drove. Pike shook his head a few times, furrowed his brow, his face betraying utter disgust at times as Vance described the drug and murder story. He felt like some of the details were crazy but there was no denying the lethality of the people they were dealing with. Pike deserved to know what he knew. At one point, Pike couldn’t resist asking the obvious question.
“So, Vance, if these people are so nefarious and willing to commit murder at will, why haven’t you gone to the cops with this? I mean, I’m no fan of police intervention but, damn, this is way above your pay grade, ain’t it?”
Vance had been turned toward Pike in his seat and now he pivoted forward. “No doubt but the cops are all over the place. MacLean is fighting with the State Department security and the Norwegian embassy about jurisdiction. Hell, Dahl was killed right in the embassy and there is no
way they are offering any answers. They are calling it a suicide, an overdose but I know it’s a snow job but I don’t have the juice to call it out.” Vance paused. “Don’t even ask me about Q-Town’s investigation of Seelbach’s murder. They got three people on the force and none are capable of handling a murder investigation. NCIS is helping but they are clearly letting Quantico call the shots.”
“Well, what do you expect to find from this little Hail-Mary trip we are on?”
“I know this guy knows something. There are too many dots that connect right here for it to be a coincidence. I’m gonna poke the bear and see what happens. It’s all I got, Corny.”
Pike shook his head. “And I could be home, tucked in my cozy little rack . . . ”
“Lima Charlie. But think of the stories you’ll be able to tell.” Vance risked a quick sideways glance at Pike. “You had to come to the rescue of the famous Gunny Roscoe Vance. How many Marines can say that? You won’t regret this, Pike.”
“Pffffft,” Pike sputtered. “I already am.” Pike looked over at Vance, a slight smile imposing its will on his face.
A grateful Vance closed his eyes for a quick moment. Pike was right. This was way out of his lane but the fact that Pike was going to back him up convinced him he was on the right track. Somebody had to take the risk for the sake of the Marines who couldn’t do it for themselves.
Vance had no idea whether Kulyak would be at Le Vizit but he was betting on him being there managing the various tentacles of his illicit organization. They rolled up and drove past the front of the darkened restaurant. Pike turned the corner at the end of the block and found a space on the opposite side of the street about 100 feet past the back of the restaurant. Pike maneuvered the truck smoothly into the space and viewed the backdoor of the café.
“So that’s it, huh? Doesn’t look like much,” Pike observed. “You sure he’s gonna be there?”
“No, not sure. Just guessing but I think a guy who has as much going on as he does puts in the hours. And this is his CP.”
“You sure this is gonna work?” Pike turned directly toward him.
“No but this guy is dirty and I am going to go face-to-face with him. He knows more about this shitshow than anyone else and I am going get something out of it.”
Pike shook his head. “Who the hell do you think you are? Jack Reacher and Jack Bauer, all in one?”
“Pike, I am going in cold but at least I am going to know more when I leave than I do now.”
Pike sighed. “If you leave there . . . ” Pike scratched his head as though a better plan might emerge if he just scraped hard enough. “Okay. I got this but I am giving you 20 minutes. After that, I am coming in looking for the head. You got that?”
“Twenty minutes . . . Roger that.”
With that, Vance got out of the truck and headed across the street. The back of the building was an unadorned façade with rear door in the middle of the outer wall. A dumpster was positioned to the right of the door and space on the left side had a Chevy Suburban SUV parked close to the door.
Vance approached the door scanning for any possible movement. The door was closed but the outer edge wasn’t flush with the frame. Vance took the knob and pulled. It stuck but a harder pull brought it open with a scrape. He opened the door to a darkened hall. A doorway on the right at the end of the hall spilled light into the black of the hallway. Vance moved quietly into the hall, letting the door come to rest without closing it. He could hear a voice speaking, a one-sided phone conversation. Vance wished Pike had come with him. The language was clearly Russian. It crossed his mind to take the Glock out but he wanted to wait. No need to up the ante yet.
Vance waited, assessing whether anyone else was in the place, what the layout was, possible exits besides the one behind him. The hall led to a larger room, the main dining room straight ahead. A doorway on the right went to another room, probably the kitchen. As he scanned, he heard whomever was talking finish his call. Slowly, Vance crept along the wall to the door. Just as he was about to the fill the doorway, a shadow advanced and he was face-to-face with Anton Kulyak. Vance didn’t necessarily expect this but he wasn’t totally unprepared either. “Kool, dobryy vecher.” Good evening.
Kulyak more than lived up to his name. He did not so much as raise an eyebrow but his forearm caught Vance full in the chest and pushed him up against the opposite wall. “Dobryy vecher. Ya mogu vam pomoch?”
Vance’s only other card. “Kool, do you remember me from Afghanistan?”
The murky light of the hall prevented a response. Kulyak stopped short and now peered closely at Vance. One eye squinted. He dragged Vance toward the lit doorway. He backed up into the light of the office, both hands gripping the front of Vance’s jacket. Vance didn’t resist, both hands in front of him. No threat.
Kulyak squinted both eyes now. “You a Marine, yes?”
“Yeah, I’m a Marine.”
Kulyak’s face hardened. Why now, a Marine in the backdoor hallway of his operation? “I don’t know. There were a lot of Marines in Afghanistan.”
“This was at Faizal . . . you were working with the poppy guys. I was a sniper. I was friends with Aksel Dahl.”
Kool’s face changed. It lit with acknowledgement and another response . . . a wariness. “Yes, I remember now. You were with the Marine with the name . . . what was it? Some water . . . ?”
“Sergeant Freshwater, yeah,” Vance nodded and risked a brief smile. “Yeah, you got it. You used to tag the camel spiders with your Ka-Bar and then roast them.”
The hint of a smile now from Kulyak. He snorted lightly. “I don’t remember your name.”
“Vance. I was Sergeant Vance then.”
“So, Sergeant Vance, what are you doing here now in my restaurant. You didn’t come for a meat pie, I know that.”
“If you let me go, we can talk and I can tell you more.”
Kulyak paused, looking Vance straight in the eye. His mouth gathered in a pucker. A moment and then he slowly released Vance’s jacket and stepped back.
“Okay, yeah, I remember you now. You were very good at your job. That is something I remember from the shitheap of Afghanistan,” Kulyak mused.
“It was a tough assignment. You probably had the toughest job of all. Trying to get farmers to change from centuries of poppy farming to wheat.”
“You came here to talk about poppy farming?” Kulyak’s patience was diminishing.
“No. I came here to find out what you know about the Norwegian defense attache’s murder.” Vance paused. “The shooter was Chechen.”
Kool snorted. “Because I am Chechen I know who killed some Norwegian? You give me too much credit.” Kulyak sat down at his desk chair now. “It is late and I cannot help you.”
“You are more than a restaurant owner.” Vance knew he was testing the limits of what Kulyak would be willing to say.
“Why should I care who killed the Norwegian?”
“You sure? The kid that got his throat cut? You don’t know anything about him getting set up like that?”
“And what if he was Chechen. What difference would it make?”
“Maybe none. But that kid wasn’t the only one at that party that you might know.”
Kulyak’s eyes narrowed. What was this Marine after? “What do you mean?”
“There was another Marine there with me who died that night right next to the Chechen kid. He’s the reason I am asking questions. He didn’t need to die that night.”
“So, you think I know who might have killed them? How would I know that? Why would I have wanted that?”
“Kool, I don’t know. It might be because you had a problem with Aksel Dahl being sent home.”
Kulyak bristled. “Now you are very mistaken, Marine. I do not know what you think you know but this Dahl. I am not involved with him.”
“Not anymore. He’s dead.” Kool’s steel blue eyes locked on Vance. “That’s convenient for you, I guess.” Vance pushed.
“You are
talking to the wrong person, Marine.”
“Maybe. Why two Norwegians though? One for sure by a Chechen . . . maybe both.”
“Look, I was not there and I am not interested in this conversation. We are done here.”
“The person who cut the throats of my friend and that Chechen shooter knew what he was doing with a dagger. Your skills . . . well, we always admired what you could do with a knife.”
“I do not have time for your crazy theories.” Kulyak leaned forward now, over his desk and spoke in a loud whisper. “I do not care. Do you get that? I. do. not. care.”
“Did you know that Serge Kovak was there, too.”
Kulyak went completely still and leveled his dark eyes at Vance. “So? I don’t even know who that is.”
For the first time, Vance began to believe there was something. “You sure?”
“Yes. I am sure you need to leave now.”
“Well, that is weird because I saw Kovak in the back outside the door here talking to somebody for quite a while.”
“Talk to someone outside? What does that have to do with me?”
“It was someone who came out of the same back door Kovak did. They exchanged phone numbers.”
Kool started breathing quickly. He recovered quickly though and sneered. “I don’t know anything about that or who he might have talked to. I will say it only once more . . . You need to leave. Or do I need to force you out?”
“I’m going.”
“Well, then, go . . . now.”
Vance backed up slowly, his hands in front of him. He wondered if Kool could see the butt of the Glock or the extra mags under his jacket. He hoped if he did it would quell any inclination Kulyak might have to go kinetic.
Kool got up and came around the desk. He seemed preoccupied now and in a hurry to get Vance out.
Vance backed to the doorway, down the hall and up to the door, Kulyak following him a couple feet behind. “I didn’t come here to make trouble, Kool. I just want to find out who killed my friends.”
“You keep going,” Kool answered. He watched Vance back out the door and then grabbed the door handle and slammed it into the door frame.