I turned and looked at Dexter and James. They looked at each other and then back to us.
“That’s another one we can’t answer.”
Fifty-nine
The Game had never been to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. When the unveiling was broadcast on CNN, it didn’t look as big as it was in person. He admired the craftsmanship and understood why a project of this size would have taken so long to build. The artist must have been patient as he chiseled away at the stone in order to create the intricate details of the memorial. The Game appreciated anyone who understood patience.
But he wasn’t there to see the memorial.
Wearing a recently vendor-bought “I Love Washington, D.C.” T-shirt, The Game walked around the memorial taking pictures like the rest of the tourists and acting as if the words on the stone wall were as moving to him as they appeared to be to everyone else.
“I was here in 1968 when Dr. King spoke on the capitol,” an older gentleman said, standing next to him.
“You don’t say.”
“Yep. Remember it like it was yesterday. The wife and I drove up from Richmond. Two weeks later, we packed our bags and made D.C. our home.”
The Game nodded and thought the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
“Mind telling me about it?” The Game said.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
The Game turned around and started walking, and the old man followed his lead.
“D.C. was a different city back then.”
“How so?”
“Crime wasn’t as high. People were nicer to each other. You know, that kinda thing.”
“I see.”
“It was a great time to be in D.C.”
The Game made it appear as if he was interested in what the old man was saying, but really he was keeping his eyes on Detective Hayden and the one called Rule. He watched as the two men approached the detective and then as they all walked off. The Game kept his distance but followed just long enough to see that they took a seat near a bench about a hundred feet from the memorial.
The two men walked away after about ten minutes, and Detective Hayden and Rule were back near the memorial again. The Game had to admit that even though he would eventually kill the detective, his patience in waiting was starting to grow thin. He thrived off the emotions and adrenaline it took to kill a person. For a second, he thought that maybe he should kill the old man as kind of a fill-in until he could get to the detective, but then he’d be just like all of the other serial killers who preyed on the weak.
So, The Game walked and listened and watched the detective. A few minutes later, he was close enough that he could say, Hey old buddy, remember me? I’m the one who broke into your bedroom last night and tied you to your bed. I could have killed you and your mangy mutt, but I didn’t. Because that’s not how the game works. However, instead of saying that, The Game said to the old man, “Hey, do you mind if we get a picture together? It’d be cool to have a picture with someone who actually heard Dr. King speak in person.”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
The Game looked around and then said to Detective Hayden, “Excuse me, would you mind taking a picture of me and my friend here?”
The detective appeared as if his mind were on a different planet, but said, “Sure, no problem.”
The Game gave his camera to the detective and then stepped back and wrapped his arm around the old man’s shoulders.”
“Say cheese,” The Game said to the old man.
Detective Hayden took the picture and handed the camera back. The Game stuck out his hand and shook the detective’s. He kept his composure while his hand embraced Detective Hayden’s. He wanted to squeeze it and say that they’d be seeing each other again real soon, but instead said, “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
The Game lowered his eyes to Detective Hayden’s gun on his hip and said, “Oh, you’re a cop. Great to know that D.C. is in good hands.”
Detective Hayden gave a halfhearted smile and then said, “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Rest assured, we will.”
The detective and Rule walked away. The Game reached out and shook the old man’s hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Same to you, young fella.”
The Game walked away somewhat confused. First, he didn’t like the fact that the detective didn’t appear to be focused. He could have killed him right there, but then there would be an emptiness that wouldn’t be filled. For The Game, it was not the act of killing that got him going, it was the chase and the hunt. It was the thrill of knowing that he’d beaten a man who was at the top of his game. So he was a little concerned on that point. However, when he’d shaken the detective’s hand, he’d felt a grip that only came from someone with great physical strength. The detective wasn’t an overly muscular guy, but The Game felt strength and power in his handshake. So, with that, The Game reaffirmed his choice, and even though the detective’s mind may have been a little preoccupied, he indeed would be a great hunt.
A smile crawled on The Game’s face as he walked toward his car. He wasn’t going to follow the detective any longer. He was going to wait for the detective to find him. So, for The Game, the game of life or death had just officially begun.
Sixty
The last time Alexey Gavronskii saw his father he was seven years old, the same day that the shootings happened at the school. His father made him swear not to tell anyone what they’d seen. When they got home that morning, Alexey was ordered to go to his room and stay there the rest of the day. Their house only had one television, which was in the family room. They lived in a small, single story, four-room house so everything from every room could be heard. From his bedroom, Alexey heard his father put the tape in the VCR. He heard his father’s voice from a couple hours earlier laughing and playing with him as they walked to school. Then he heard the screams and the shooting and his father’s panicked voice telling him to get down.
The tape stopped, and Alexey heard his father talking to himself in the living room. His father was talking fast and in a low voice. Minutes later he heard his father’s footsteps through the hall and then he heard what he assumed was his parents’ bedroom door closing. His mother was still in bed, as she had not been feeling well that morning. He could hear mumbled voices coming from his parents’ room and then he heard his mother gasp and scream. Seconds later, his parents’ door opened, more footsteps sounded through the hall, and his mother flew into his room and wrapped her arms around him. Her face was flooded with tears, and she said over and over again, “My love, my love.”
Hours later Alexey’s father told him that because of what they’d seen, they had to leave their house and hide out until things blew over. Alexey had never heard his dad talk in such a nervous way before. His father said that he was going to go out and hide the video camera, and that he was going to come back for him and his mother. Alexey’s father kissed him on the forehead and left the house. That was the last time he saw his dad.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. After the first year went by, eight-year-old Alexey Gavronskii knew that he wasn’t going to see his father again. Even at such a young age, his schoolmates talked about how people sometimes went missing and never returned. One of Alexey’s friends had a father who disappeared. He said that men in black masks came during the night and took his father away.
When Alexey was twenty-three years old, he took his first job working for Lev Oborski as a personal bodyguard. Alexey was always big in stature for his age, and in his teens and early twenties he developed into what was similar to a muscular machine. His appearance was threatening, but he lacked killer instincts. Lev Oborski introduced him to Viktor, who at the time had made a name for himself as the last person you’d want to see standing in front of you. Up until his death, Viktor was one of the most feared men in Russia’s underground world.
Six months ago, Lev held a meeting with Viktor and Alexey that
had changed Alexey’s life. They were sitting on plush leather chairs in Lev’s library in his home. Lev sat in his motorized wheelchair with a cigarette in his left hand. He took a puff from a cigarette and let the smoke slowly escape between his lips. His deep-set eyes blinked a few times and looked directly into Alexey’s before speaking.
“Your father is still alive,” Lev said.
Alexey looked over to Viktor and then back to Lev. “What do you mean?”
“He has been held in seclusion for all of these years.”
“I don’t understand,” Alexey said.
Lev took another drag from his cigarette.
“Do you know why I came to you and offered you a job?”
“No.”
“You were just a child when it happened. Do you remember that morning? The men with the guns at the schoolyard?”
“I have every day of my life.”
“I was there too, in the schoolyard.”
Alexey and Viktor looked at each other.
“My son, Mikel, was shot and killed that morning.”
“I did not know,” Alexey said.
“You and your father were across the street. He was holding a video camera.”
“He was filming my first day to school.”
Lev nodded. “He also filmed the whole thing.”
Alexey stayed quiet.
“I saw him with the camera. And apparently I wasn’t the only one. He was taken because of what he filmed. They asked him where he hid the camera, but he wouldn’t tell them. It wasn’t until they threatened you and your mother that he finally told him where to find it.”
“How do you know all of this?” Alexey asked.
“It’s taken me all of this time to find the truth. Some of the men with the guns were Americans. They’re the ones who kidnapped your father. They’re the ones who took the tape.”
“It’s been so long. How could he still be alive?”
Lev took another drag from the cigarette.
“We know. We have information.” He paused before continuing. “Your father is a very sick man and doesn’t have much time left. You will see your father, and then you and Viktor will go to America to retrieve the tape.”
Alexey never got the chance to see his father. The next day Lev told him that his father had died.
Now, sitting on a sofa in broad daylight, Alexey waited in the only place that he was sure the detective and Rule would end up. He looked around the unfamiliar room and at some of the family pictures on the wall. The mountain-sized dog was sleeping, thanks to a tranquilizer he’d put in a candy bar. Alexey had a Desert Eagle handgun in each hand and waited quietly for the detective to come home.
Sixty-one
The information that Detective Patricia Jennings received from Interpol on the man from the black Lincoln Navigator was mere formality at this point. They knew that the men they were dealing with were Russian, and Interpol confirmed that the man from the black Lincoln was indeed Russian. He’d been a lawman for over twenty years until he was linked to the Russian Mafia. Pat read through the two-page report and marked with a yellow highlighter important facts that she’d bring up to Jacob.
She looked at the clock and saw that it was coming up on 4 p.m. Her heart fluttered a little as it was getting closer to the evening, which meant that she was going to be meeting up with Tim, the guy from the grocery store. She wondered if she was making the right decision in agreeing to go out on the date. Handsome, flattering guys in her experience had always been trouble. Especially the ones who tried to act like they weren’t flattering. The one difference with this situation was that Pat had eyed Tim before he saw her at the grocery store. He caught her eye and not the other way around, which was different for her.
Next, her mind went from wondering if she should even go on a date to what in the world she was going to wear. Should she wear a dress or shorts? Should she wear a low-cut shirt or keep it more formal? Hair up or down? Open toed shoes or closed? The thoughts carried on and on.
Her shift ended in about two hours, and then she’d have to fly home and get ready. She thought about the perfume that she was going to wear, and the makeup and jewelry. Her mind was so caught up in thinking about the date that she didn’t notice that Jacob and Rule were standing next to her.
“Earth to Pat,” Jacob said.
Pat blinked and shook her head.
“Oh, hey … how long were you standing there?”
“Long enough to know that your mind was in another world. You didn’t hear me calling your name?”
Pat smiled and blushed a little. “No, guess not.”
“Hmm, if I didn’t know any better,” Jacob said, “I’d say that someone’s finally broken through that brick wall you’ve built up.”
“Not likely,” she rolled her eyes. “Just going on a little date tonight.”
“Well, well, this is a first. Guy must be special to be taking you out.”
“Hardly.”
“The way you were staring into no man’s land, I’d say that it’s more than hardly.”
She gave Jacob a sarcastic look, squinting her eyes and tilting her head to the side, and then moved her eyes to Rule.
“You must be Rule?” Pat stood up and extended her hand. “Sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances.”
Rule nodded and shook her hand. “Same here.”
“So,” Jacob said. “We just had an interesting conversation with the CIA.”
Pat’s eyes widened, “Really? What about?”
Jacob pulled his chair from his desk and then grabbed a chair for Rule. He went through the conversation with Jadyn at the hamburger shop, and then with what happened at Mrs. Cardinal’s house. He told her about the conversation with the CIA and also that Rule revealed that he’d seen his father murder someone back in the mid-1980s who he believed was Congressman John Turner from North Carolina.
“Wow,” she said, “all of this for a videotape.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Pat picked up the report and handed it to Jacob.
“Interpol got back to us pretty quick. Dead guy from the black Navigator was a former Russian cop.”
“I’ll be damned.”
Jacob read the report and then handed it to Rule.
“Has there been any more news on the Terminator guy?” Jacob asked.
“Nope. Forensics hasn’t gotten back to us yet with any fingerprint analysis, and he hasn’t been seen by patrols.”
“He’ll show up again,” Rule said. “This tape means something to them, and I don’t think they plan on leaving without it.”
Jacob looked over at Rule, “Coming for you is the only way they’d get it. And you don’t know where it is.”
“They don’t know that.”
“How many more of them could there be?” Pat asked. “By my count, they’re down at least four men.”
“Doesn’t matter how many they bring,” Rule said. “Coming after me is a death sentence.”
“Rule,” Jacob said sternly, “we’ve got to be smarter than that. Don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”
“I’m just saying.”
Jacob nodded, “I know you are, and that’s what worries me.”
The three fell quiet for a few seconds.
“So where do we go from here?” Pat asked.
“See if you can find anything out about the Lazarev Gang while we wait for the fingerprint analysis to come back. Maybe we can get an understanding of who these people are and how to deal with them.”
Jacob nodded to Rule and they both stood up.
“I’m going to follow up with Jadyn to see if she’s gotten any more information from her contacts.”
Pat nodded and shook Rule’s hand as they left.
Jacob turned around, “What time’s the big date?”
“Eight, why?”
Jacob shook his head, “Where?”
“Not sure yet. Again, why?”
“Oh, nothing. Just te
xt me if you need anything. Rule can be intimidating, if you know what I mean.”
Pat smiled, “Will do. But don’t worry about me. I can be more intimidating.”
Pat turned around and looked at her computer, and again, a smile crept across her face.
Sixty-two
Jadyn met us at the entrance of the FBI’s Hoover Building located on 9th and E Street. At one point in time, the public was allowed to enter the lobby, but after 9/11 a lot of things changed. She smiled when she came through the front doors and was holding a manila folder in her right hand. Even in this hectic time, I caught myself staring and admiring her a little too long when she came outside.
“Let’s take a walk,” she said.
“You don’t want us common folk to see how well government workers are treated inside?” I smiled.
“Let’s just say that you never know who’s listening in on conversations.”
We walked down the front steps of the Hoover building and turned left onto E Street. Before she started talking, I told her of our run-in with the two CIA agents and the little bit of information that they were able to confirm.
“Then the passports make sense,” she said.
Rule and I both nodded.
“So I did a little digging on Congressman John Turner and was able to piece together what he was possibly working on at the time of his disappearance.”
By now we’d walked a few blocks and were across the street from Freedom Plaza. We took a seat on a bench underneath a tree that gave a little shade from the sun.
Jadyn opened the manila folder and scanned the top piece of paper. “Does the Tillman Project ring a bell to either of you?”
Rule and I both shook our heads no.
“Me neither. It’s been classified as top secret, but apparently in 1982 Congressmen Turner and Albert Tillman from South Carolina were secretly spearheading a negotiation between members of the Soviet Union’s government.”
The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 14