“I have an old radio that was owned by Elvis,” he bragged. “And of course, you know what this is.” His hand came to rest on a police scanner. “I always like to hear what the boobs in blue are up to.”
His finger flicked on the power switch, and it went in search of frequencies.
“Hey, Ralph. I’m heading over to Krispy Kreme,” drawled a voice as Southern as fried chicken. “Want me to bring you anything?”
“How ’bout some glazed hot ones?” came the response.
“Will do. Over and out.”
“I wish I could pay the cops off with donuts,” Sergei jested. “Let’s see what else we pick up.”
The caviar and oysters churned uneasily in my stomach. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t we go upstairs and get cozy again?” I’d found what I’d come for. Now I just wanted to get out of here.
“I first want to know what’s happening tonight.”
I was liking this less and less.
“Then I’ll just use the bathroom.” I didn’t tell Sergei that I meant the one in my loft in Memphis.
“Go ahead,” Sergei responded absently, having reverted to the techno-nerd from hell.
I was heading for the stairs when Tolliver’s voice blared over the scanner. “Yeah. She’s in Galinov’s place right now. I thought she’d fucked up a minute ago, but things seem to be okay.”
That damn idiot! He had to know better than to broadcast a sting operation in progress!
Unless Tolliver wasn’t stupid, but looking to tack the murder of a federal agent onto Galinov’s growing list of charges.
My feet moved fast, but not fast enough. Galinov grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. The violence I’d sensed simmering beneath the surface now erupted in a raging inferno. His fingers plunged beneath my sweater and ripped the microphone off my skin, just as I yelled out, “It’s Mardi Gras time!”
Twenty-five
“How dare you!” Galinov snarled. “Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? I’m not some local hick like those clowns Woody and Virgil. I’m part of a global operation that disposes of people like you as easily as swatting a fly. Whatever little game you and your wildlife friends are playing is over!”
“You don’t want to hurt me, Sergei! Federal agents know I’m here and are already on their way.”
Galinov regarded me with disdain. “How can you be so naïve? Do you really believe I don’t have everything under control?”
The floor began to sway. Was Galinov saying Tolliver was in his pocket? I lowered my head and took a deep breath, listening for the front door to burst open. But all I heard was the pounding of my heart.
Sergei’s playing with your mind. Santou and Hickok would never leave you hanging!
“I own you now, the same as all my other whores, and I will not be betrayed!”
I own you!
My wooziness grew worse—those were the exact words he’d used with Tatyana. Sergei must have believed I was about to faint, for his iron grip loosened. If I ever hoped to escape, this was the moment. I lowered my head further, pretending I was about to throw up, and rammed it with all my might into Galinov’s stomach. Sergei grunted and stumbled backward, caught off-guard. I immediately took off upstairs.
I’d only made it through the kitchen when Galinov began to close in; there was no way I could reach the front door. I veered into the Jungle Room and grabbed the caviar as Sergei’s hands clasped my throat. Flinging the bowl backward, I nicked Sergei’s head and he released me as a shower of roe flew through the air.
“You bitch! This carpet was made to match the one at Graceland! Now look what you’ve done!”
A sea of gray eggs lay buried in the carpet’s pile, both overhead and underfoot. Galinov’s hand flew to his bruised forehead as his other arm wrapped itself tightly around my chest, holding me in place.
Sliding my hip, I placed my leg behind Galinov’s and broke his stance. Then I wrapped my hands under his knee and jerked his foot off the floor. Sergei went down like a toppled building. I turned to flee, only to have my own legs pulled out from under me. The next thing I knew, Sergei was back on his feet and dragging me out of the room.
Where the hell was my backup? Hadn’t they heard my signal? Or worse, Tolliver might think his equipment was on the fritz, and refuse to blow the operation!
I tried grabbing hold of whatever I could, hoping to put the brakes on Galinov, but everything was jerked from my grip.
“I’m not going to kill you here and pay a fortune to have the furnishings cleaned!” Sergei fumed. “Besides, I won’t taint Elvis’s memory with a murder.”
Wasn’t that a relief.
“We’re going back to the basement, where Billy Paw can mop your blood off the floor.”
We approached the stairs, and I had the sinking feeling Sergei planned to throw me down them. Instead, he pulled me to my feet.
“It’s too difficult getting hair and clothing fibers off the steps,” he grumbled.
“Cleaning up can be such a nuisance,” I gasped.
“And this is going to cost me a fortune, just to shut everyone up,” he complained.
“What do you care? You have plenty of money coming in from all the caviar in your freezers. It’s just too bad you’ll never get to enjoy it,” I tormented him, laying the bait.
Galinov angrily pushed me forward. “Stop stalling!”
“Your friends aren’t going to be happy when they learn you’ve been selling caviar without their knowledge, and keeping all the profits,” I continued, giving the hook a strong jerk.
Galinov shoved me down the first step. “Not only are you stupid, you’re also crazy. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Then I guess there’s no problem that the papers detailing your true business dealings are already winging their way to your associates in the motherland,” I bluffed. “I’m sure they’ll find it interesting reading, compared to the doctored reports they’ve been receiving.”
I glanced back to see that Galinov’s complexion was as gray as his freezers.
“What you’re saying is not possible!”
“Why don’t you check the files for yourself?” I retorted brazenly.
Galinov pulled me toward the cabinets, only to discover he needed both hands to open the drawer.
“Don’t try anything funny,” he warned. “Or I will make things even more unpleasant.”
Like there was something worse than being offed?
“Where would I go that you couldn’t catch me?” I docilely responded.
Galinov swiftly unlocked the file and began to thumb through the folders, his face growing more concerned with each passing moment. I inched my way closer to the freezers, stopping near the ice chest on the floor. I glanced around, but no weapons were in sight. Where was my knight in shining armor, damn him?
Galinov slammed the drawer and turned toward me with a cold expression.
“You’re bullshitting me, Agent Porter. I don’t appreciate that.”
For once, I actually wished he’d called me Priscilla.
“Tonight was the only time you were down here alone, so the papers must still be somewhere on you. It seems we get to play our little seduction game after all.” Galinov leered menacingly. “Since power is what turns you on, I’m sure you’ll enjoy our interlude. I’m feeling particularly invincible.”
Had I been James Bond, I’d have pulled out some super-cool, state-of-the-art weapon. Instead, I was an underfunded, overworked, not-so-well-equipped U.S. Fish and Wildlife agent.
I waited until Sergei was nearly upon me and then flung open a freezer door, slamming him soundly in the head. It not only put a temporary stop to his progress, but gave me enough time to overturn the ice chest and its valuable contents. A pile of caviar oozed across the floor, creating a slick and slippery puddle.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sergei angrily demanded and took a step.
Oh, oh, big mistake. He instantly lost his
balance. I was feeling pretty smug until he reached up and pulled me down with him.
Though Sergei was bigger and stronger, he didn’t have my wrestling moves. He crash-landed facedown in the roe, allowing me to scramble on top of him.
I quickly locked my right leg under his left, slipping my hands under his armpits and clasping them behind his neck. Damn! There was something I was forgetting! Sergei squirmed, which jogged my memory. I dug one knee into his back and rammed my chin between his shoulder blades to complete a full nelson.
“You really should have studied martial arts the way Elvis did,” I chided as Galinov wriggled beneath me. “I also enjoy being in control, which is why I’m on top of things. But don’t feel badly—you can always drown your sorrows in caviar.”
I pressed hard, burying his face deep into the eggs, knowing I could end this situation here and now. There’d be no lawyers to contend with, no trial, no plea bargain, and no chance for injustice.
The faces of the women whose lives Galinov had destroyed flashed before me. I continued to bear down, only faintly aware of voices as two sets of arms worked hard to pry me off. I fought to stay on, but was pulled to my feet. My backup had finally arrived.
The blood pounded in my ears as I watched them roll Galinov over and establish that he was still alive. Only then did Hickok look at me, his face splitting into a grin.
“I think you just found yourself a new career, Bronx. If Fish and Wildlife gives you the boot, you can always open your own mud wrestling club. I never realized how much hellcat there is in you.”
Neither had I. Now that I did, I was frightened. I jumped as Santou approached from behind, and whirled to face him. He tenderly wiped the roe off my face.
“Just my luck—you’re probably spoiled for life. What can I offer a woman who bathes in caviar?”
Then he noticed the look in my eyes.
“Don’t worry, chère. It happens to us all at some point. There’s always the danger of snapping and losing control. The important thing is to stare the bastard down and don’t let it get the better of you. Besides, if it’s wrestling you want, I can help you channel that in a way we’ll both enjoy.”
Santou’s roguish grin banished the fear, releasing my tension.
“The FBI will take charge of Galinov, but I’ll break away as soon as I can. We’re gonna spend some mighty fine quality time together.”
It was no longer the transmitter that sent sparks flying through my body, but Santou’s suggestive touch.
Damn! I suddenly remembered the papers and pulled them from the back of my pants. “Here’s a list of women that Sergei and his cronies smuggled in, along with the addresses of brothels which bought them. You’ll find their passports in the top drawer of that cabinet.”
Santou took the papers from my hand. “Maybe you should consider jumping ship and coming over to the FBI.”
“Like hell she will!” Hickok roared. “I taught her everything she knows. This gal is mine!”
I knew that was Charlie’s way of saying I’d done a good job.
Then I realized who was missing from the scene. “Where’s Tolliver?”
“You mean Captain Queeg? We ended up pulling a mutiny.” Hickok sniggered.
“I’ll fill you in later,” was all Jake would say. Then he handcuffed Galinov and led him up the stairs.
After they were gone Charlie opened each freezer and stared at their contents in disgust. “Well, I’m glad you helped solve the FBI’s case. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll give you a Twinkie. Meanwhile, we’re left with nothing but this.” He motioned to the gobs of trampled roe on the floor.
I began to lift my pant leg.
“Forget it, Bronx. A strip show ain’t gonna make me feel any better.”
That was a man for you. I unwrapped the bandage and removed the hidden treasure.
“If you don’t want these, I’m sure someone else will.”
Hickok snatched the papers from my hand and gave them a quick perusal. “Hell! This contains the whole ball of wax! Everything from Galinov’s network of fishermen to his fancy-pants clientele.”
Then he arrived at the sheets I’d ripped from Galinov’s ledger.
“Holy crap—ol’ Sergei just handed us his balls on a silver platter. By the time I’m through squeezing ’em, he’ll not only give up the names of his partners, but everyone else involved in their caviar scam.”
I chose not to burst Hickok’s bubble by remarking that the FBI probably wouldn’t share access to Galinov.
“Okay, Bronx. You can take the rest of the night off. But don’t let this go to your head: I expect you in first thing tomorrow to start writing up your report. Then you can get back out in the field and check hunters’ licenses.”
Fat chance—there were still the murders of Mavis and Woody to unravel.
Charlie stayed to explore Sergei’s basement as I dragged myself upstairs, leaving a trail of caviar in my wake.
Twenty-six
My loft had never felt so welcoming as when I arrived home. I emptied the contents of my pockets onto the kitchen counter, where I spied Terri’s handwriting on a note.
We’re back from our jaunt. Come meet us at the Blue Mojo this evening for a drink.
Love,
Terri & Vincent
They were now an official couple. While a drink at the Blue Mojo was tempting, the only thing I wanted to do was bathe, and then hit the sack.
I took a long, hot shower, then I crawled into bed with a glass of red wine, planning to watch a rerun of The Sopranos. The sudden ring of the phone took me by surprise, causing the wine to spill. I picked up the receiver to hear a near-hysterical Tatyana crying on the other end of the line. Her panic seeped under my skin as effectively as the bedsheets had soaked up the wine, her words an unintelligible stream of Russian.
“Tatyana, tell me where you are in English!” I sharply commanded.
“I’m at home! You must come right away!”
That was all the information I needed. I threw on some clothes and stuffed the items I’d tossed on the counter back into my pockets, grabbing my gun as well. Then I raced out.
My Ford tore through the night like a knife slashing in fright, not knowing what lay before or behind it. I flew down Highway 51 so fast that I must have left scorched rubber behind me. The nearby Mississippi’s current easily kept pace, its sound a steady roar. Only when I arrived at Tatyana’s house did I realize the bellowing river was the rush of my own blood.
I didn’t knock. There was no reason to: the front door had been torn off its hinges. Inside, the place looked like a hurricane had hit it. But Tatyana seemed more broken than anything else, her face a canvas of inconsolable sorrow.
She wrung her hands as her anguished wails filled the room. A teenage girl stood helplessly by. A wet cloth was wrapped around the back of the girl’s head, its white cotton stained with blood.
I stood in front of Tatyana, who didn’t respond until I grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
“Tell me what happened!” I demanded in fear.
Tatyana’s reddened gaze fixed on me as though she were a shipwrecked survivor and I, her only lifeboat.
“I called home from the club, as I always do, to check in with the baby-sitter and say good night to Galya. Only this time, there is no answer. I call again in five minutes. It keeps ringing and ringing. That’s how I know something is wrong. My little girl, she always runs to pick up the phone and send me kisses. I immediately rushed home to find Irina unconscious on the floor. And my daughter?” Tatyana’s lips quivered, barely able to form the words. “My malenkaya is gone!”
Her nails raked at her face, scoring red lines in her skin.
“It is my own fault! I should never have told you about Sergei and the organizatsiya. He warned me to talk to no one. Now this is my punishment. He has kidnapped my Galya!”
“Tatyana, listen! I’ve been with Sergei all night. He’s now in the custody of federal agents. It couldn’t have been him.”<
br />
“Then tell me who took my child? Why have they done this to me?” Her voice cracked, hoarse with grief.
I turned to Irina, who looked away in embarrassment.
“What happened here tonight?”
The teenager wordlessly shuffled her feet.
“Tell me now, or I’ll have no choice but to throw you in jail,” I threatened.
Irina instantly burst into tears. “I don’t know! I heard all the noise and I hid! Then somebody pulled me out from under the bed and there was a terrible pain on the back of my head.”
“Was Galya with you?”
Irina nodded, her sobs growing louder.
“Show me where it happened,” I insisted.
Tatyana led me down the dingy hall into a tiny room decorated with posters of Britney Spears and ’N Sync. Bedsheets covered with fluffy lambs lay huddled in a pile on the floor. Getting down on my hands and knees I peered under the bed, where I spied Galya’s little dog curled up and shaking with fear. I pushed the sheets away to reach for the pooch, and something fell from within their folds. A black wooden cross lay on the floor like the emblem of some chilling satanic ritual. Oh, dear God. It was Virgil Hardy who had taken the child. The question was why?
I thought back to when he’d trapped me in his shed. He’d made a remark about how I spent too much time with Sergei’s hookers. Still, what would prompt him to kidnap Tatyana’s little girl?
Oh, come on! Why not ask what made him toss a woman off a bridge, or feed Mavis to his hogs? Virgil Hardy’s a certifiable lunatic!
Standing up, I ran out of the room and down the hall. Tatyana raced after me, catching up as I reached the front door.
“Where are you going?” she cried, grabbing my arm.
“To bring Galya back.” I refused to consider the possibility that I might not be able to make good on my word.
I threw the Ford into gear and tore out, making tracks for Virgil’s place. The only other cars on the road were cruising home from blues clubs, their drivers too mellow to get in my way. Those disappeared as I turned onto a country lane where the cotton fields lay still as graves. The few passing telephone poles were eerie reminders of Virgil’s wooden cross, until even those dropped from sight. The gravel ended, turning to dirt beneath my tires, as I began my descent into Chickasaw Bluffs.
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