The Borman Factor

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The Borman Factor Page 8

by Robert Lalonde


  Sergei came back and sat behind his desk. "Any ideas how this might have happened Mark?"

  "I have no idea how any of this could have happened. Who else knows other than the three of us, Paxton and the Mayor?"

  "I don't know Mark. James, is there anyone in your office who might be the source of our problem?"

  "No. I handle this kind of transaction personally. My secretary knows nothing about it and I don't keep any records that she could come across."

  Sergei stood up letting them know the meeting was over. "We have to find this leak and plug it fast. If people like Paxton lose confidence in us we lose a huge advantage over our competitors. I don't think I have to tell you how much this could cost us."

  Chapter 31

  It had been a crazy day for Jimmy but he decided to go to work just to keep up appearances. He'd been busted at Union Station by two crazy cops and nearly drowned while they tried to get a confession out of him.

  He worked through his shift mostly on autopilot and decided to walk home after the bar closed. He could use the fresh air and walking sometimes helped him think things through.

  Monday didn't exactly go as planned. He felt lucky he got off as easily as he did. Bad as it was, it could have been much worse. Detectives Patrick and Rossi were complete nut jobs. Two very scary dudes, with guns no less.

  It was 2am. He'd been walking, lost in his thoughts for a few blocks when he noticed there was a really big guy standing on the sidewalk next to a limo. He reached for the door handle and opened the rear door of the limo. Jimmy was pulled out of his reverie when he realized he was being asked to get in the car.

  Before Jimmy could put up much of an objection, the big man had him sitting in the back seat of what was a very well appointed luxury limo.

  The guy sitting in the rear-facing seat looked vaguely familiar but Jimmy couldn't quite place him. "How you doing Jimmy. We thought you could use a ride home; been quite the day hasn't it?"

  "Yeah, I guess." Jimmy still couldn't place him. He wasn't a big guy, maybe 5'10" 170 lbs., but he had a hard look about him; thin, chiseled face and cold, light blue eyes that looked right through you. The entire back of his right hand was covered in a tattoo and there were smaller ones on some of his fingers.

  "Tell me about this blackmail business Jimmy. How'd you get into that?"

  "What? Who the hell are you?"

  Jimmy was too slow to react. The elbow caught him flush on the right side of the face. The big guy sitting next to him explained himself "That's not what he ask. Answer question."

  The guy with the cold eyes and the tattoos was obviously playing the nice guy, "I don't want to have to hurt you Jimmy. But I need to know exactly what happened - and you're going to tell me. You're going to tell me or you're going to die trying to keep it from me. So, why don't you do yourself a favor and tell me all about it."

  "I've told the cops all about it already" Jimmy said. "I overheard two guys at the bar talking about a city official who takes care of land deals for money. A number and a name came up and I had the stupid idea to try and bribe the guy."

  Jimmy didn't notice any reaction from the guy sitting opposite him, except for the quick look he shot to the big guy. The big guy delivered another quick elbow in response to the look before Jimmy's brain could react. This one caught him right on the end of the nose. A bolt of pain jolted his brain and blood started gushing out of his nose.

  The smaller guy casually grabbed a few tissues from a box that was sitting on the side table and handed them to Jimmy. "Wipe your nose Jimmy, you're making a mess of the car."

  Jimmy grabbed the tissues with his left hand and covered his nose. His eyes were watering and tears were streaming down his face. "What do you want from me, I've told you everything I know."

  He should have known by now they weren't buying it. The big guy grabbed Jimmy's right hand and turned his wrist clockwise and downward in one, swift motion.

  His hand was bent toward his forearm in a way that pinched a nerve - the pain was incredible. Jimmy actually forgot about his nose for a minute. His body was forced forward from the way his wrist was twisted. It looked like he was trying to crawl into the floorboard of the car.

  "Jimmy. My friend here can make you feel so much pain you're going to wish you were dead. In fact, he's going to break your wrist right now if you don't answer my question."

  The big guy started to twist his wrist some more. Jimmy could feel the bones were about to snap. "Alright, alright! My girlfriend sees this guy. She saw some notes in a ledger and took a picture of the page. That's where we got the information."

  "What's her name, and who's the john."

  "Alina Buzhinsky. The guy is Sergei Mogilevich. He's a developer."

  "She was in on this with you?"

  "She told me about it and she helped me write the note. That's all. I did the rest myself."

  "How many pages did she photograph?"

  "Just the one."

  The pressure on his wrist eased up and the pain from his broken nose came back to flood his consciousness again. He looked at the guy sitting across from him. "That's everything. Really, it is. Can I go now?"

  The guy handed Jimmy a few more tissues. "You could have saved yourself a lot of grief by telling us that right off the bat Jimmy. Yeah, you can go.

  I've got some advice for you though; you should forget about trying to fleece bigger fish than you. That's a sure way to get in a lot of trouble. Remember that next time - and get rid of any information you have about this ledger Jimmy."

  "Don't worry, I will. Thanks for the tip." The big guy got out and Jimmy followed. He quickly headed home holding the tissues to his nose.

  The man with the tattoos hit a speed dial on his cell phone. "It's Alina. Logan said she saw some notes in a ledger and snapped a picture of the page."

  "How's Jimmy?"

  "He's reformed. I don't think we have to worry about him causing us any more problems."

  "Alright. Take care of the girl. We can't afford to have someone like that around."

  Chapter 32

  Wednesday morning

  I got up at 6am and went down to the gym to work out for about an hour. Back in the room, I made a pot of coffee and turned on the morning news.

  The big news story of the day was the discovery of a dead woman. Her body had been spotted by a man who was out for his morning jog. He found her body snagged along the eastern shore of the Don River, right where it passes under the Bloor Street bridge.

  I was getting ready to go meet with Detective Novak when another special news bulletin came over the air waves. The woman had been identified as Alina Buzhinsky, a thirty-five year old former real estate agent. Preliminary reports said she had been brutally raped.

  Joe Fontana and Sue Hardy of the award-winning City News team covered the story:

  Joe: "Don Smith's morning jog was cut short this morning when he came across the body of a woman who had been brutally beaten and murdered."

  Sue: "That brings the total number of homicides in the city to thirty five this year Joe."

  Joe: "Yes it does. Police don't have autopsy results yet but they have released the woman's name. Alina Buzhinsky, 35, was found dead on the shores of the Don Valley River just after 7am this morning. Police say the most likely cause of death is a broken neck."

  The city of Toronto has a pretty low violent crime rate considering a population of over six million. 425 people were injured by gun shot in 2015. The total homicide count from all sources was 56, 26 of which were from gun shot wounds.

  I did a search on Alina Buzhinsky. She had made the news a few times for commercial real estate stories back when she was in the business. There was one photo of her celebrating with a few friends at a bar called The Reservoir Lounge.

  I had been looking into homicides and violent deaths that occurred during the last three months trying to see if any of them seemed related in any way. Same killer or same motive for example.

  The weak link in thi
s approach is that if the cops didn't call it a homicide, as in Terry Reynolds' case, it wouldn't show up in the list.

  The question I'm normally asking is 'who could be a spy?' The question I'm asking now is, 'who could be a killer?'

  Chapter 33

  Mark Fenton woke to the morning news flash as did everyone else in the city. Alina Buzhinsky was found dead, no, brutally murdered early this morning.

  Ever since his meeting with Borman, Fenton felt like he was walking under a dark cloud. Though he felt the private investigator had blown things out of proportion, it still got to him. What if Terry Reynolds' death was a cold-blooded murder?

  As he turned into the parking lot of the Executive Suites hotel that morning, the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. He shook his head in an effort to shake the feeling off.

  Fenton parked the Mazda CX9 in his reserved parking spot and made his way up to the office he shared with Sergei. Mogilevich was at work early as usual.

  "Morning Mark. Grab a coffee and join me in my office. There's a few things I'd like to go over with you before my meeting with James this morning."

  Fenton put his briefcase down on his desk and went to the small private kitchen to make a coffee. He decided he wasn't going to bring up the subject of Alina unless Sergei did. Same goes for the meeting with Borman.

  He wasn't going to bring it up. He wasn't going to lie about it if he was asked; that would be a big mistake. It would be an even bigger mistake to be 100 percent truthful about all that was said between them.

  Sergei got right to the point before Fenton even got seated. Alina didn't come up.

  "We've got to figure out how this information got out Mark. I've got too much time and money invested in building a relationship with city hall to see it slip away because somebody's got loose lips."

  That dark cloud began to feel even more ominous. "Do we know who this Jimmy Logan character is or who he might know?"

  Sergei knew the answer but he wasn't going to let on in front of Fenton. "I'm still waiting on the police report. I've got a few other people out there looking into who the guy is. It shouldn't be too much longer."

  "We're really careful at our end Serge. Do you think it could be someone at city hall?"

  "Anything is possible. Problem is, they're pointing the finger at us."

  "The bar story is possible though not very likely."

  "No. There's more to it than that. There's a connection somewhere. I can feel it and I intend to find it."

  "I'll keep my ears open. Do you need anything else right now?"

  "No. Keep my calendar clear today and tomorrow."

  Chapter 34

  Wednesday 8pm

  The 6 o'clock news had basically been a repeat of the morning program. Two hours later at 8pm, they were still broadcasting the same news clips - it was starting to annoy me and I wasn't sure why.

  I decided I'd go for a run to clear my head. The hotel staff had mentioned there was a nice park just down the road.

  I put on my jogging suit and sneakers and ran south a few blocks. Queen's Park turned out to be a pretty nice spot. There were lots of mature trees and the half mile dirt track was well-groomed and comfortable to run on - I actually forgot I was in the middle of the city for a while.

  Back at the hotel I hopped in the shower while the coffee brewed. I was toweling off when I realized what it was that had been nagging at me these past few hours. Tons of news coverage about the Buzhinsky woman but still no idea why she was killed, not even speculation.

  I made a coffee and printed off a couple more copies of the photo of Alina Buzhinsky with her friends at the bar. My next stop was the Reservoir Lounge at 52 Wellington St.E.

  The Reservoir Lounge is tucked away in the cellar of a stone building in the Old Town Toronto area. It's half Paris jazz cavern and half supper club. A semi circular stage against a brick wall reminded me of someplace I'd been in New Orleans.

  I went to the bar and ordered a Heineken. I gave the bartender a ten and showed him the picture of Alina and friends, "Do you know this girl or anyone else in this picture?"

  "Sure. That's Jimmy. I'm filling in for him, he didn't come in today."

  "Jimmy who? Do you know where I can find him."

  "Jimmy Logan. He's probably at home, but I don't know for sure. Look, I can't be giving out the guy's address to anyone who comes in here asking questions.

  "That fine, you've been a great help." I left the change on the bar for him.

  Back in my hotel room I called Stan Novak and asked him to see what he could find out about the bartender Jimmy Logan. Stan called back a half hour later with an address and a bit of intel. Logan had a B&E charge about ten years back.

  The address on file was 171-205 The Esplanade. My sixth sense was ringing a full alarm. I decided to pay Logan a visit. Unless I was mistaken, Logan could be in a lot of trouble.

  Chapter 35

  Wednesday, 10pm

  The building Logan lived in was close to downtown at the corner of Sherbourne and The Esplanade, just a few blocks east of Yonge St. It was a newer 7-storey apartment building that was part of a housing project the city owned.

  I took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor and knocked on number 205. The door opened just enough for the bruised and battered face of Jimmy Logan to peek through the crack. The minute he saw my face he tried to slam the door shut but I had forced it open just enough to stick my foot in.

  "Jimmy Logan? Can I come in for a minute Mr. Logan, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you?"

  Jimmy didn't really want to let a stranger in his apartment. Can't say I blamed him. He'd had a rough night judging by the look of his face. "Who are you and what do you want?"

  "My name is Nick Borman. The Piermont family hired me to investigate the death of Terry Reynolds."

  "I don't know anyone named Terry Reynolds. I think you've got the wrong apartment."

  "Alina Buzhinsky was found murdered this morning Jimmy. I think she was murdered by the same people who killed Terry Reynolds."

  I got his attention with that one. "I just need to talk to you for a couple of minutes. It won't take long."

  I guess I didn't strike Jimmy like one of the bad guys that messed him up the day before so he decided to let me in.

  "I was just about to head out but I guess I can spare a minute to answer a couple of questions."

  Jimmy stepped back into his apartment and I followed him in. Logan's face was a mess. He had two black eyes and his nose was noticeably twisted toward the left side of his face.

  "I heard about what happened to Alina on the news this morning. You say you think you know who killed her?"

  "I don't know for sure just yet but I think there's a connection to Terry Reynold's death. If you could answer a few questions for me, it might be a big help in finding out who is responsible."

  "I don't know this Terry Reynolds and I don't know anything about the murders."

  "I didn't say you did Jimmy but you may have some information that could help me figure out what happened."

  "Look Mr. Borman, I'd like to help you but this is some pretty scary shit going on here and I'd rather not get involved."

  "I understand how you feel Mr. Logan but you might not get to sit this one out just because you don't want to get involved. The people who killed Alina and Terry Reynolds are probably worried about any loose ends. I'm not trying to scare you but there's a chance they might decide it might be safer for them if you weren't around."

  I could see the blood drain from Jimmy's face. "What do you want to know?"

  "Let's start with Alina Buzhinsky. I showed him the picture. What's your connection to her?"

  "We've been seeing each other off and on for a couple of years."

  Time to play poker and call, "You're pretty beat up and Alina is dead. It's not likely that I'm the only one who made the connection Jimmy. Is there something you want to tell me while you still can? Maybe I can help."

  I could see
that Jimmy was at wit's end. He was exhausted and he was scared. "She was involved with Sergei Mogilevich. She went to his hotel once a week on Wednesdays. She saw a secret ledger they used to record bribes and payoffs to city officials and she managed to snap a photo of one of the pages with her phone one day."

  "And you tried to blackmail him?"

  "No, not him. There was an entry in the ledger for $150,000 paid to the city treasurer. That's who we tried to bribe."

 

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