The Spirit Survives

by Gary Williams Ramsey

  After checking again to make sure Leah was well secured and gagged, Cheche decided that he needed to go by his office to check in with his assistant. He had received an urgent call from Isay telling him that he must come to the office for some critical information. Irsay was paranoid about cell phone conversations, even though Cheche had told him many times that it was safe.

  * * *

  As Cheche walked out the door of his condo, the curtains parted again in another condo and Bea Morgan peered at him with squinted eyes behind her bifocals.

  Ever since the Russian had taken the girl into the building, Bea had been watching carefully and the girl had not left the condo. If she were a prostitute, she would have left hours before. Bea imagined all sorts of horrible things that could have happened to the girl at the hands of the bastard Russian. She decided then and there that she needed to take action. This might be her only chance to get rid of that damn Russian.

  Bea went to her phone and punched in 911.

  “What is your emergency?” responded the professional female voice.

  Bea took a deep breath and exclaimed, “The Russian man took a woman into his condo hours ago, and she never came out!”

  “Who am I speaking with?” the dispassionate voice replied.

  “Why this is Bea Morgan. I’m seventy-two years old, and I am scared of him.”

  “Where do you live, Ms. Morgan?”

  “I live in Clear Lake in the Breakwater Condo’s on Marina Bay Drive, number 704.”

  “Tell me in detail what you saw, Ms. Morgan.”

  “Well I was looking out the window and saw the Russian man who lives in 614 taking a woman to his place. She had a blanket over her shoulders and I think she was gagged. I’ve been watching for hours, and she never came out. He just left and I think he killed her and will come back and kill me.” Bea broke into tears.

  “Just calm down, Ms. Morgan, why do you think something is wrong? Did you hear something?”

  “She never came out,” Bea bawled.

  “Ms. Morgan, we must have more than that to send a policeman and break into the guy’s condo. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything?”

  “I think he killed her,” Bea cried again. “All Russians are thieves and murderers!”

  “Well Ms. Morgan, if you hear or see anything other than a woman going into his condo with him, let us know. It may be his sister or his mother staying with him for a few days,” the operator said calmly.

  “But I think he killed her,” Bea said again as she slammed down the phone.

  Bea Morgan was always a tenacious woman and the older she got the more stubborn she became. She was not going to drop this at all. She wanted the Russian gone.

  * * *

  Cheche arrived at his office in the Clear Lake area. He had set up a small shipping business selling boxes and mailing supplies when he settled in Clear Lake. He required a front and this business handled that need well. He had become friendly with the other business owners in the small strip mall and was well liked. Isay, another Russian immigrant working on a green card, managed the shop for him. They had two Mexican employees and were actually doing quite well in the little enterprise.

  Cheche entered the shop and smiled at Mia, who was assisting a customer packing some boxes for shipping. He walked to the back of the shop to the tiny office where Isay was sitting at the desk, drinking his eighth cup of black coffee of the day.

  Isay was wearing a T-shirt that read, “Texas an’t no place for amateurs,” and a pair of jeans. His shaved bald head glistened with sweat. He looked agitated. He scowled as Cheche sat down in the folding chair in front of the desk. “We are in deep shit!” were the first words from his between clenched teeth.

  “What in the hell is the problem?” Cheche inquired.

  Isay glanced around and spoke scarcely above a whisper, “I have never seen so much heat on the street. The Houston Police Department and the FBI have gone nuts. They’re looking for a girl who is the fiancée of a former police officer. They’re hauling in anyone who has ever been suspected of human trafficking or selling drugs. All hell is breaking loose! I got hold of a picture of the woman.” He took out a flier from his back pocket and unfolded it. He handed it to Cheche.

  Cheche carefully looked at the picture. A knot of fear tightened in his gut. It was the girl he had tied up in his condo. He knew it was just a matter of time before some squealer mentioned his name. He had to get rid of the girl and do it quick. She could mess up his carefully managed business. He put the flyer in his pocket, got up and left the shop without saying another word to Isay.

  This proved to Isay that Cheche had the girl. He shook his head. “Shit, shit, shit!” he whispered.

  Cheche got into his car, pulled out his cell phone and instantly punched in Sergey’s private number. He only called it in a case of emergency and this was such a time.

  “This is Sergey, what do you want Cheche?” Sergey said. “This better be important!”

  “We got big trouble. The girl you sent me is the fiancée of a former Houston cop and he apparently has ties with the FBI. They’re turning the city upside down looking for her. They obviously know that she’s here. All hell is breaking loose.”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone for at least a minute. Then Sergey’s very composed and stern voice said, “Kill her.. Bern is there with two of my best men and I’ll instruct him to come to your place immediately to get the body and dispose of it the same way we did the killer of my daughter. Strangle her so there is no sign of blood if they find you and search your condo. Get a team to come in and sanitize the condominium after Bern and the guys take the body. I don’t want her fingerprints or DNA or any signs that she was ever there. Get rid of any drugs you have in the place. It must be absolutely clean, do you understand?”

  “Yes sir!” Cheche answered, “I’ll get right on it.”

  “You better not mess this up, Cheche, or it’s your ass,” Sergey grunted as he hung up the phone.

  Chapter 76

  I had a restless night and managed only a few hours of sleep. I awakened to a stormy, overcast day in Chicago. I showered, shaved and dressed in a polo shirt and jeans. After ordering breakfast, I gulped it down and left for O’Hare at 7:00 a.m. After about an hour I arrived at the airport and turned in my rental car. Remarkably, the flight was on time, considering the weather. I arrived in Houston a little after noon and by one o’clock I was headed to my hotel.

  I checked into the Omni, said hello to the manager, and proceeded to room 410. I unpacked the few belongings I’d brought and ordered a tomato basil soup and salad special from room service with unsweetened ice tea. While I waited for my lunch, I called Rex to see if there was any activity in Chicago. After about four rings, I heard the trusted voice of my friend, “This is Rex Herns.”

  “Rex, it’s Ben. I’m in Houston at the Omni Hotel. I’m scheduled to meet Special Agent Gerry Stewart later today. I just wanted to check in to see if there’s anything new going on in Chicago, especially with Sergey?”

  “I’m beginning to believe that Sergey is implicated in this. I have information that supports your caller that Bo Lopez and Leah were taken to Sergey’s private apartment. I’m personally staking out his place. This is a very sensitive situation, since he’s so well connected politically. I’ll keep you up to date on anything new.”

  “Thanks Rex, I’ll call you if anything worthwhile happens here. Thanks again for everything you’ve done. I owe you.”

  “Forget it,” he said. “You’d do the same for me. Talk to you later.”

  My lunch arrived and I sat down at the desk to eat it. I had a feeling that this was going to be a productive day.

  Just as I was finishing my soup, the cell phone rang. I answered it.

  “This is Gerry. I know we had plans to catch up over dinner, but I’ve got breaking information. We need to meet right away. I can be there to pick you up in twenty minutes, okay?”

  “Sure, I’m in room 410
. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  I hung up, speculating on what was so urgent.

  Twenty minutes later there was a knock on the door. I opened it and let Gerry in. He was carrying a briefcase and walked briskly to the desk and took out some papers.

  “We’ve got something huge going on here. Unfortunately, Leah got caught in a web of criminal activity. Recently, the boss of the Salazar drug cartel and his top aide were murdered here in Houston. This morning Flores, who headed the largest Mexican drug cartel in Chicago, was shot down while picking up his daughter from school. All signs point to the Russian Mafia, but we feel like there’s a mastermind playing them like puppets. There have long been rumors of a powerful behind-the-scenes mobster who the criminals call the Benefactor. Through our deep cover FBI agents planted in the cartels, we have been informed that the new leaders of the cartels are loyal to this Benefactor. At first we thought he was just a legend, but now we know he’s real. We additionally think he might be a member of law enforcement because of his almost ghost-like existence and his ability to control the cartel leaders with inside information about raids and other law enforcement activities. It appears that he also is in control of substantial sums of money to finance certain drug activities and murders. We believe that he is now controlling the Chicago and the Houston cartels. We currently have an undercover FBI agent who has gone through hell to get to the Benefactor. This agent has been ruthless to get to the man and end his power grab. Any day now we believe the agent will meet him in person. The only man standing in his way of total power of drug trafficking in the United States is the Russian Mafia Godfather. This man may be Sergey Ivanova. If so, the Benefactor needs him dead.”

  I listened to Gerry intently, wondering what this had to do with us finding Leah. “How is Leah involved in this?”

  “When you inadvertently witnessed the murder of Sergey’s daughter and the killer kidnapped Leah to get to you, she became a pawn in a much larger plot. As soon as Lopez disappeared, she was no longer useful. We believe that Sergey just wanted to pick up some extra money and sell her to the sex slave business rather than killing her and getting nothing. I suspect that a Mexican they call Cheche handles the sex-trade business for Sergey here in Houston. My office has been watching him for months, undercover, but hasn’t been able to pin anything on him. We want to get to Sergey, and he is the key to that plan. If Leah is in Houston, and I think she is, he probably has her.”

  I was stunned that Gerry had been able to piece this puzzle together as quickly as he had. I knew he was good, but damn!

  He continued, “We placed the condo under surveillance yesterday, but there hasn’t been any activity until this morning. A lady named Bea Morgan, who lives in the complex, called 911 a couple of days ago. She is evidently an elderly women and the operator thought she was senile. However, the operator did report the call to her supervisor. The supervisor informed the Houston Police Department and stated that it was a low priority item. When the Houston police saw the address and determined it was in the same complex as Cheche, they phoned my office. I called the 911 office and had them play the tape for me. Ms. Morgan was insistent that Cheche practically dragged a woman into the condo, and that she has never come out. The lady thinks the Russian killed her. It may be a dead end, but it deserves to be checked out. I think you and I should go to the condo and see what we find.”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “Let’s do it now.”

  My heart was pounding as we worked our way through traffic to Highway 45 South, which would give us an open shot to Clear Lake. I couldn’t believe that I might be thirty minutes from finally seeing Leah.

  I wondered what all had happened to her, since she rushed to Lookout Mountain to try to find me. Anger flashed and I swore to myself again that, if she had been hurt, someone would pay. For now as we sped toward Clear Lake, I just hoped to see her alive and hold her in my arms.

  Chapter 77

  Bea Morgan waited two days for the police to come in response to her 911 call. She knew that Russian was up to no good and she didn’t understand why the silly 911 operator didn’t believe her. She had spent most of her time for the past couple of days watching the Russian’s condo. The girl hadn’t come out and, of course, Bea believed the Russian had killed her. She finally decided that she must take matters in her own hands. She had seen the man leave earlier, so she knew he wasn’t at home. She figured to go to the condo and see what she could find out.

  Bea took her purse with her. She had purchased a .22 caliber pistol right after the Russian moved in and kept it with her all the time in her purse. She was determined that if he bothered her, she would pop a cap in his filthy ass. She wanted to show the Russians that Bea Morgan would not be screwed by them twice.

  Bea left her condo and walked to the door of the Russians place. She looked around and saw no one. She banged on the door. “Are you in there honey?” she yelled, “Did he hurt you?”

  There was no response. Bea looked around again to be sure that no one was watching. Seeing no one, she took her Sears credit card out of her purse. Her dead husband, Sam, was a locksmith before a heart attack took him to heaven. Sam had taught her a lot about getting inside a locked door. She slipped the credit card expertly beside the lock. She maneuvered it and heard the familiar click as she opened the door. She replaced the credit card in her purse and quietly entered the condo. The layout was exactly like hers, except that his was decorated in all black. She hated black leather. Bea called out again, “Is anyone here?” She walked into the living area and called out again, “Honey, where are you? I know he brought you in here.” Bea heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom, located to the right of the living area. She hurried to the door, opened it and entered the room. Her eyes went straight to the bed and she gasped at what she saw. There was a young woman dressed in only her panties and bra tied to the bed. Each arm was tied separately to the top bed posts. Her feet were tied separately to the bottom bed posts. She was spread eagle on the bed and had a wash cloth stuffed in her mouth. The woman was thrashing wildly. Bea rushed to the bed and took the cloth out of her mouth. “What’s your name, honey?” Bea asked in a sympathetic voice, “What did that monster do to you?”

  The girl could only manage a slurred whisper, “Leah Hamilton.” It was obvious she was having problems forming her words. Bea knew immediately that she was drugged.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here,” Bea said in a reassuring voice as she started untying Leah’s feet.

  Bea didn’t hear Cheche’s car arrive. As he pulled into his reserved parking place in front of his door, he noticed that the door was slightly ajar and knew someone was in his condo. He quietly opened the door, walked in, closed the door and locked it. He heard voices in the bedroom, where he had secured the girl. Cheche pulled out his gun and walked calmly to the open bedroom door. He saw the busy-body old lady from next door fumbling with the rope on his captive’s feet. He looked at her in disbelief.

  Leah saw him enter the room and walk up behind Bea. She screamed at the top of her lungs.

  Bea had finished untying one foot when she saw the look of terror on the girls’ face and heard the scream. She turned around quicker that a seventy-two-year-old woman could possibly do. She saw the enraged face of Cheche glaring at her. In one motion, she grabbed her purse from the floor and pull out the pistol. The quickness of the move momentarily froze Cheche, however the sight of the gun brought him back to reality. He grasped Bea’s arm, twisted it and the pistol fell to the floor. He swung the flat side of his gun and hit the old lady. Bea turned her head and suffered a glancing blow from the handle of the gun on the side of her head. Cheche hit her because he couldn’t risk a gunshot being heard. Blood spurted from the head wound and Bea fell unconscious to the floor. He would have finished her off right then, but the girl was screaming and he needed to shut her up.

  He grabbed the washcloth, which had been thrown on the floor, laid his gun on the end table and turned to stuff it in Leah�
��s mouth. As he leaned over the bed, Leah kicked him as hard as she could with her free foot. The wild kick landed squarely on his crotch. He yelped in pain and went to his knees. Leah continued to scream but her voice was feeble. Even with his balls aching, Cheche grimaced, grabbed her loose leg and retied it to the lower bedpost. He stuffed the washcloth in her mouth and the screams turned into muffled grunts. Angry from the kick to the crotch, he backhanded the girl on the mouth. Blood oozed from the side of her mouth from the split lip.

  “That’s for kicking me, bitch,” he hissed. “I was just going to kill you, but now I’m going to make you suffer!” He reached up and ripped off her bra. Leah shut her eyes knowing she was going to die. Cheche chuckled and grabbed her breasts with both hands and squeezed them. Knowing that the humiliation was overwhelming, he reached down, took the top of her panties in both hands, ripped them and jerked the shreds of silk from her now-naked body. Given that he didn’t have to worry anymore about delivering damaged goods to the buyer, he decided rape her and afterwards choke her to death. Even with the kick to the balls, he felt himself getting an erection. Cheche loved feeling pain and he loved dishing it out. He was practically delirious with the anticipation of assaulting Leah and killing her. He unbuckled his belt and struck Leah on the midsection. He dropped his pants, grinning at the defeated girl. He wanted her to fight, but she lay motionless with her eyes closed.

  Cheche had his full attention on Leah and didn’t notice Bea’s left hand as she wiped the blood from her eyes. Her pistol was still lying on the floor where it had fallen. She attempted to move her right arm to pick it up, but the Russian must have broken it when he twisted the gun from her grip. Watching him through squinted eyes filling up again with blood, she reached over with her left hand and grasped the gun. With all the strength left in her, she lifted it and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out as Bea passed out again.