by Peggy Bird
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have said it. I was wrong. But Jesus, I feel like I’m up against the wall here. I’m trying to find a way to keep you safe, but you keep going in the other direction.”
“I did fine at Blue Lake and I’ll do fine tomorrow.”
“You did fine at Blue Lake with me backing you up. Armed. This is different. You don’t get paid to do shit like this. You get paid to go into a nice safe courtroom and follow all the rules. This is cop stuff — nothing’s routine, everything’s unexpected and it’s damn dangerous. If I have to, I’ll go over Sam’s head to make sure you stick to what you’re paid to do.”
“You’re a real pain in the ass, Alessandro.”
“Been told that by tougher people than you, Keyes.”
Unable to sit still any longer, she jumped up and leaned toward him on tightly balled fists.
“So, your plan is, what? Tattle and get me sidelined? Then what, Ace? Got a next move? No? Well if you can’t put up, shut up. I’m tired of playing Nancy Drew with the Hardy Boys in Central Precinct while my colleagues cover for me here. And I’m really tired of having you as a shadow and Danny as a roommate. This will get it taken care of.”
“Because you forced the issue so you could run it the way you wanted to.”
“That isn’t true. He knew you were a cop. What I told him wasn’t news. He knows the entire cast of characters — me, you, Danny, Sam, Jeff, the feds. We use me or let him go on his merry way stealing ideas and killing people who get in the way.”
“We’ll find another way. It’s what we get paid to do.”
She stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath and then looked at him. “Okay, if that doesn’t persuade you, then how about this: he thinks I have those hard drives. If I bail on him tomorrow, how long do you think it’ll take for him to come after me? I need to deliver his merchandise and get this target off my back.”
He stood with his eyes closed and his lips thinned to a stern, almost invisible, line.
“Tony, please listen to me.” Her voice was softer, almost pleading. “This isn’t about thrills or wanting to do what you do or forcing everyone to do it my way. It’s about getting this guy into custody, using the advantage I have. For the first time, being Kenny Keyes’ daughter isn’t an embarrassment. I don’t expect you to completely understand it, but I do expect you to believe I’m doing this for the right reason. Don’t you know me well enough to know that?”
He sighed. “Yes, I do. And I even understand what you’re saying, at least a little. But Jesus, Margo, I also know what could happen and it scares the living daylights out of me.”
“I’d be lying — and stupid — if I said I wasn’t a little scared, too, but you and Sam and Danny and every other law enforcement agency in the region — hell, in the nation — have my back. I’m meeting him in broad daylight in a fairly public place. He trusts me because he thinks I’m as twisted as he is, which gives me a level of safety you wouldn’t have.” She felt like she was begging by the time she got to the end of her speech. “He’s just wants those damn hard drives, Tony. I can deliver hard drives.”
“You know what the worst part is? The worst part, the part that really pisses me off, is that I have a feeling you’re right — this is the only way left to accomplish what we want and I hate it.” He was running his fingers through his hair so hard Margo was afraid he’d pull it all out.
“Tony, I know … I wish … ” She cleared her throat and started again. “I don’t want to let what’s between us personally get in the way of doing this and I don’t think you do either … so … ”
“I can’t pretend you’re just another person I work with, Margo. Don’t ask me to do that.”
She suddenly realized that his anger wasn’t because she had hidden what she’d done. It was because he was terrified she’d get hurt. No matter what had happened between them, he still cared.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I meant … oh, God, why can’t I find the right words?” She looked him in the eye. “Okay, let’s try this: I know you’ve been angry at me. For reasons that … well, for reasons that I deserve. But can we call a truce or something? Work out the other stuff when this is over and just get this done?” She walked to his side of the desk and put out her hand to him, as if to shake it. “I’d like to go into tomorrow knowing you’re not furious at me and maybe even accept that I know what I’m doing.”
He looked at her outstretched hand and, saying nothing, left her office, banging the door closed behind him as he went out.
Margo swallowed hard and sniffed back tears. She’d held out an olive branch and he’d rejected it. That said it all. Still sniffing, she sat at her desk and forwarded the series of emails between herself and Viktor to Sam. As she was sending the last one, there was a knock at the door.
“Come.” She didn’t look up, assuming it was Kiki wanting to dig into what was going on or Jeff with more advice about the next day.
“A truce sounds good.” Tony held out his hand. “Sorry I stormed out of here.” She stood up and put out her hand. He covered it with both of his. “I don’t know if I can say I accept what you’re doing,” he continued, “but you absolutely have the right to make the judgment call yourself. Just promise me one thing: you’ll give him the hard drives and get the hell out of there. No messing around trying to gather evidence or make a good case or get a confession from him. Let us take care of that.”
“I promise. No heroics.”
“Right. No heroics. Other than what you’re already doing.”
She extracted her hand from his and sat down, afraid if she continued touching him she’d give in to the impulse to walk into his arms and nestle her head on his chest. “Listen, I’m not much good around here today. How about I call Danny and see if she’s ready to go to the hotel? Maybe you could join us for an early dinner.” Although she said it casually, she held her breath waiting for the answer.
“I’d like to, but Sam and Amanda invited me for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, well, maybe another time.”
“Doubt there’ll be too many other times, Margo. Once this is settled, I’ll be headed back to Philly.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes and had no amusement in it. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be free of Danny and me just like you want.”
Right, she thought. Free of you. Just like I want.
Chapter 20
Pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall just off the Sunset Highway west of Portland, all Margo saw was a pho restaurant, a dry cleaners and a payday loan company. Then she spotted a store with signs in Cyrillic and English, vacant stores on either side of it. Assuming that to be her destination, she parked her Forester beside the Lexus and the Cadillac SUV already there.
The homey smell of fresh bread greeted her, as did an older woman behind the counter who motioned her toward a closed door at the back of the store. When she knocked, a male voice with a Russian accent told her to come in. She opened the door to a small, dimly lit room with a desk in the center, the top clear of anything except a computer monitor, a keyboard and a handgun. Sitting at the desk, hands in his lap, was a fiftyish man with graying hair, who looked familiar and not just because he vaguely resembled Nikita Khrushchev.
“Well, I’m here,” she said, trying to sound irritated and belligerent. “Let’s get this taken care of so I can get on with my plans.”
“Miss Keyes, sit down and be quiet.”
Margo stood in front of the desk for a moment, trying to look like she was making up her mind whether to go or stay, before she turned her back on Viktor, walked to the chair furthest away from the desk and picked it up. When she returned to where he was waiting, she stared at him again before sitting down.
“I don’t know what the hell kind of game you’re playing — putting me off, then not listening when I told you I had to outwait the cops, demanding I come out here in two days. I don’t like it … not one … ”
His dark eyes bored into hers, unsettling her. His face look
ed cold, unmoving and … familiar. He had stared at her like that before. When? She’d seen his face briefly at Blue Lake but it had been in shadow, not clear enough to be so familiar.
Then it hit her. Not at Blue Lake. Outside a courtroom. “Jesus, you’re Gene Orlov’s father, aren’t you?”
He nodded. He was playing with the gun. “When you refused to listen to good counsel about my son and about getting involved in this. Didn’t you learn anything from your father?”
Margo leaned her forearms on the desk, as if taking him into her confidence, but really to bury her shaking hands under her arms. “What I learned from my father was to take advantage of what falls into your lap. But I’m not making a career out of this, like he did. That’s why I’ve been trying to get the best deal I can.”
“I know what you’re doing, Miss Keyes. But you don’t seem to appreciate what a dangerous game you’ve been playing.”
She sat back in her chair, her shakes under better control. “I know that Jameson and Nixon are dead because they tried to play you off against your former friend Dmitri Petrakov. Who is, I believe, also no longer with us.”
Orlov’s wolfish grin made her feel like she was Little Red Riding Hood about to become lunch. “No, unfortunately, he is not.”
“So, saying I don’t know how dangerous you can be is not true. I respect your ability to solve your problems even if I don’t approve of your methods.”
“Good. We understand each other.” He leaned forward and put out his hand. “Now, my merchandise, please.”
“Wait. I said I understand you. Now you understand me. I know how much you can get from what’s on these hard drives. I want a bigger cut. One hundred thousand isn’t enough. I want half a million.”
“That’s out of … ”
He was distracted by a sound from the grocery store. Orlov went to the door, holding the weapon in his hand, listened for a moment, opened the door slightly and said something in Russian. The old woman responded in kind.
Then a man’s voice interrupted. It sounded like English but was quiet enough that Margo couldn’t make out anything except the rude, impatient tone. Orlov answered in English, “I will take care of it my way,” before returning to the desk. “Half a million is too much. But I might be willing to go to one-hundred thousand for each of the two hard drives.”
She sat back in the chair and crossed her legs, tilted the chair back slightly and ran her hand through her hair. “Two-hundred and fifty thousand for both and they’re yours,” she said.
“You can be your father’s daughter, can’t you? At least you learned how to negotiate in ways that would make him proud.”
She shrugged it off. “So, do we have a deal?”
“Yes. I have $100,000 here for you.” He pulled a briefcase from under the desk and dropped it in front of her. “You give me my merchandise and I will put the rest of the money in your bank account.”
“For that you get one and only because I’m a nice person. I’ll take the other hard drive to my bank and put it in my safe deposit box. When can you have the rest of the money?”
He stared long and hard at her. “Tomorrow.”
“I’ll meet you at my bank tomorrow at noon. And when I see that the money’s in my account, you’ll get the second one.”
“Tomorrow at noon at your bank.” He passed the briefcase full of money to her.
Margo took a padded envelope from her shoulder bag and wrote the address of her bank on the outside. “Here’s where I bank. And here,” she removed one hard drive and put it back in her bag then slid the envelope across the desk to him, “is what you just bought.”
He picked up the envelope and looked inside. She used the distraction to grab the briefcase and walk toward the door to the grocery store. When she felt his arm around her neck and his gun in her back, she realized he hadn’t been distracted at all.
“I thought we had a deal.” She coughed and moved her head, trying to release the pressure on her windpipe.
“Did you really believe you could just walk out of here without giving me what I want?” He released his hold on her throat to reach for the strap of her shoulder bag. As he did, his hand brushed against her chest. He came around to face her and ripped open her blouse, exposing the wire she was wearing.
“Where are the police who are listening to us?”
“The last time I saw them, they were at police headquarters,” she said, her voice less steady than she would have liked.
He said in a very loud voice, “She is wired.”
The door to the grocery store opened.
“Margo, I thought you were smarter than this,” Paul Dreier said as he entered.
Chapter 21
Dreier ripped the wire from Margo’s chest. She yelled, “Jesus, Paul … ” before Orlov muffled her mouth with his arm.
When he’d destroyed the listening device, he rummaged in her purse for her cell phone, which met the same fate. Then he said to his partner, “We don’t have much time. They know something’s gone wrong and will be here in minutes. Take the hard drives to the airport. Our contact will meet you there. I’ll take care of her.”
He raised the weapon he was carrying.
• • •
Margo woke in a dark and dusty place to the sound of a smoothly purring engine and the feeling of something hard pressed against her stomach. From the pain in the back of her head, she didn’t have to guess what Paul had done with the raised weapon. After that, he’d apparently bound her hands and feet with something and gagged her.
A little late, she realized she should have recognized the Lexus parked out front of the grocery store as Paul’s. Apparently she was riding in it, lying face down in the foot well of the back seat and covered with some kind of itchy, dusty blanket.
When she tried to move, the hump in the center of the car prevented her from shifting her body. Unless whoever had been listening figured it out, she was on the way to some place she was sure she didn’t want to go.
The sound of sirens wailing behind them gave her hope that someone had figured it out. But Paul sped up and Margo’s elation passed as they cut from one lane to another and the sirens faded. As her head bounced from side to side with the swaying car, she figured Paul might be saved the trouble of killing her. The consequences of the high-speed chase would take care of it quite nicely.
Her hopes and the sirens rose and fell for what seemed like an eternity. Then suddenly she was thrown violently against the backseat as Paul swerved to the right and made a dizzying turn around a sharp curve. Cars screeched to a stop. There were explosive sounds. The Lexus came to an abrupt halt. Two other cars banged into them. There was an unfamiliar sound inside the car. Then silence.
In a few moments, there was a cacophony of voices. “Police! Put your hands where we can see them.” “What the hell is going on here?” “Move. This is a crime scene.” “My car’s wrecked.” “Open the door.”
And the most welcome, a familiar voice saying, “Where’s Margo?”
The back door opened and the blanket was pulled away. “Jesus, sugar,” Tony said as he extricated her from the foot well. He carried her to a nearby patrol car and sat on the passenger side, holding her so hard and so close she had trouble breathing. After a few seconds, he loosened his grip and began to unbind her wrists and ankles.
When she was freed, he sat with her on his lap, holding her tightly while Sam negotiated who would be doing what and with whom among the law enforcement agencies of the state, two cities, two counties and the federal government. The security of his embrace, the smell of his cologne, the strength of his arms were exactly what she needed. She didn’t fight him.
When it was all sorted out Tony drove her back into Portland. Their thirty-minute ride back to Central Precinct started out silently. She sat with her eyes shut aware of his nearness, wanting to touch him, but afraid he’d push her away. When she opened her eyes, she saw he was glancing over at her.
“That must have been a helluva ri
de.”
“It wasn’t fun. How’d you know to follow Paul’s car?”
“You’re not going to like the answer but … I asked Sam to put a GPS in your shoulder bag while Danny was wiring you up.”
“Shit. You really did bug me this time, didn’t you, Alessandro?”
“Yup. With the tracer on the hard drives going one way and no cell phone signal, we’d have been chasing the wrong thing if it hadn’t been for the one in your bag.”
“Okay, I’m grateful. But how’d you know to stop Paul’s Lexus?”
“Danny. She thought she recognized his voice. Then, when you called him Paul, she was sure. She pulled up the information on his car just as we heard that a county mountie was on his tail for reckless driving. When that came over the radio, we knew exactly what to look for. Got the state police to close the freeway and herd him to a spike strip and that’s that.”
“He didn’t put up much fight.”
“Airbags can knock you silly if they hit you right.”
“Airbag. That’s the sound I heard.”
At the Justice Center, Tony hovered a bit, bringing her coffee and a sandwich, some solvent to get the remains of the tape adhesive off her wrists and ankles. Margo wasn’t sure if the tears she felt close to the surface were because of her car ride or his attention.
Once Sam returned, everyone involved spent the rest of the day beginning to put the pieces together. They started with three Russians: in Portland, Vasily Orlov, aka Viktor. The dead Russian in Newark, a former colleague of Orlov’s and the erstwhile competitor for control of the industrial espionage operation, Dmitri Petrakov. The third Russian, who made it out of Portland International Airport on a plane bound for Frankfurt, Germany just ahead of the police sent to arrest him, was Yuri Volkov. They had alerted the authorities in Frankfurt to pick him up when the plane landed.
All three of them had known each other in Russia before coming to the U.S., involved in shady deals but clever enough to avoid arrest. Somehow, Orlov had found Paul Dreier and, because of Dreier’s contacts with businesses not likely to ask questions about how their attorney had access to information that would help their bottom line, they formed an alliance. It was a nasty, if lucrative, business that had resulted in a half-dozen deaths and millions of dollars of damage to businesses more honest than Dreier’s clients.