by Luke Murphy
“Is that real hair?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“Who’s hair? Sanders’?” Jimmy asked.
Calvin said, “I thought that the light bulbs in cells never shut off?” He pointed to the single caged light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
The warden shook his head. “That’s only on death row.”
“What about communication?” Dale said.
“All letters and phone calls going in or out of the prison are routinely monitored. Copies of everything we have on Sanders has been handed over to the US Marshals Service.”
Dale nodded. “Of course it was. Did Sanders receive any mail or visitors?”
“That trial made Sanders famous. He received hundreds of letters and phone calls, from TV interviews, to book deals, to marriage proposals. He had adoring fans all over North America. People are sick.”
“Okay, we’ll take copies of everything as well.”
The warden let out his breath. “I’ll have them made. When you guys are done here, come back to the observation room. There’s something you should see.” He half-nodded towards the guard who’d followed them. “I’ll leave Jason with you.”
Dale slouched his shoulders. “Babysitter?”
“Just a precaution. You shouldn’t be alone in the prison when we are on lockdown, and he’ll help you find your way back when you’re done.”
When the warden left, Dale looked at Calvin. “How do you know so much about prison life?”
“I grew up in orphanages and foster homes, not much different.”
♣
Back in the observation room, the warden had a video installed, set up and ready.
“We recorded this a few days ago.”
Dale, Jimmy and Calvin watched as the video started. It showed three men in orange jail-issued jump suits, huddled inside a tiny cell.
“Who are we looking at?” Dale asked.
“The old man is Vladimir Alexandrov, as mean and nasty as they come. Alexandrov is eighty-two years old and, except for a minor kidney problem which most elderly people suffer from, in perfect health—muscles, joints, and mentally sound. Alexandrov was a major player for USSR in the Cold War, and then later Yuri Andropov’s right-hand man with the KGB, his political assassin actually. Then, in 1992, after the USSR collapsed and a free market economy emerged, Alexandrov turned on his government and took the skills he acquired with the military and KGB to create his own brand of justice, what we know as the Russian Mafia. Alexandrov is a made-man in Russia.”
“Sounds like you’ve been reading up,” Calvin said.
“Until the words were memorized.”
“Where is this feed from?” Jimmy asked, pointing to the video.
“Alexandrov’s cell. He’s being held in his own wing in the building, away from general population.”
“What’s Alexandrov doing here anyway?” Dale asked. “I’d think the Russians would want him so that they can pay him back for the crimes he committed against his country.”
“Fifteen years ago, Alexandrov got into an argument at a Vegas casino. Later that night, the guy he had the conflict with was found in an alley with a broken beer bottle sticking out of his neck.”
“Any witnesses?”
“One. A friend of the victim saw him go into the alley with Alexandrov and one of his associates. They also found Alexandrov’s prints on the beer bottle. After the trial, the witness was found in his home, he’d been suffocated with a cellophane bag and had parts of his skin torn away with pliers.”
“Just like what’s been reported at certain Russian Detention Centers,” Calvin said.
The warden nodded. “Alexandrov was given life and sent here. The Russian government has been trying for years to have Alexandrov deported back, but our government isn’t giving in.”
“Okay, what about the little guy playing chess against Alexandrov? What’s his story?”
“William Robinson, small-time drug dealer who accidently killed a guy in a bust. Minor league. Third strike so they sent him here.”
“What is Robinson’s connection to Alexandrov?”
“Good question. We still aren’t certain. The side of beef in the background is Igor Burkov. Rumor has it that Burkov is known back home as a champion bareknuckle street fighter. A lot of unchained rage. He’s Alexandrov’s bodyguard, and he doesn’t go anywhere without him. Hell, Alexandrov is so paranoid that Burkov even tests the old man’s food before he eats.”
They watched in silence.
“I really wish we could hear what they’re saying.”
The warden nodded. “Tell me about it. Would make my job a lot easier. But the ACLU says it’s an invasion of their privacy. Wouldn’t want to offend killers, rapists and child molesters.”
“Do all of the cells have these cameras?”
“Not all of them. Just the major players who need to be tracked.”
“Sanders?”
“Nope.”
Jimmy pointed at the screen. “What did Burkov just throw onto the table?”
“These.” The warden handed a stack of pictures to Jimmy.
Dale and Calvin gathered around Jimmy and looked at the photos.
“Who’s the woman?” Dale asked.
“Robinson’s only daughter.”
“Burkov just handed these over to you?”
“Not a chance. We got them from Robinson.”
“So, what does all this have to do with Sanders?” Jimmy asked.
“Keep watching.”
When Robinson left the cell in the video, the warden tapped one of his guards on the shoulder. The young man fidgeted with the video equipment and forwarded the recording a few hours until a new video came on the screen, the location again being Alexandrov’s cell. Ace Sanders walked in and sat down.
“I’m assuming there’s no sound here, either?”
“You assume correct. Sanders met with Alexandrov three days before his escape.”
They watched the video. Sanders had changed. Prison had hardened him. No more royal treatment: manicures, pedicures, five-course meals and high-end clothing. His hair had thinned and was no longer slicked back, his skin looked leathery, he’d lost about twenty pounds and his eyes were tired.
“Well, this is useless,” Dale said. “Without any words, it means nothing to us. Is there any physical contact at all?”
The warden shook his head. “No, they just talk.”
Calvin smiled. “You don’t happen to read lips, do you?”
“Not likely.”
Dale threw up his hands in frustration. “Let’s talk to Robinson first.”
“Robinson is dead,” the warden stated matter-of-factly. “We found him in the shower two days ago. The cause of death was strangulation, but he’d also been stabbed with a homemade shiv.”
“Let me guess, no cameras there.”
“Nope, invasion of privacy again. There are no cameras or direct surveillance by guards in the corridors, showers, and toilets. All it takes is thirty seconds and then the attacker walks away scot-free.”
“That’s why most inmates take their pants completely off and sit down to go to the bathroom. Hard to defend yourself when your pants are around your ankles,” Calvin added.
“Robinson was naked. We found the pictures shoved in his mouth. My guess is that Alexandrov gave Robinson the option, him or his daughter. Robinson chose his own torture and death. Of course, we have no evidence that Alexandrov was behind this, but you do the math.”
Dale let out his breath. “Did the US Marshals interview Alexandrov?”
The warden nodded. “They peppered him with questions for three hours. All they got were evasive answers. They weren’t happy. Think you can do any better?”
“Let’s give it a try. Get me everything you’ve got on Alexandrov—arrest record, conviction record, background check. The works,” Dale said.
♣
Dale and Jimmy agreed to meet with Alexandrov in the inmate’s cell. The warden h
ad offered to move the old man to one of the two interrogation rooms in the prison, but they thought Alexandrov would feel more willing to cooperate in his friendly surroundings. They weren’t expecting much though.
All three of them squeezed into the cell.
Vladimir Alexandrov looked older off camera. The man was thin, his hair was shaved to the scalp and he had a lined face. He had no belt, no shoelaces, and no mirror in the cell—as per prison rules.
“Good morning, Mr. Alexandrov. I’m Detective Dayton with the LVMPD. This is my partner Detective Mason and Calvin Watters.”
Alexandrov smiled. “Calvin Watters. I made a lot of money off you in your last college game. I bet that you’d choke in the Sugar Bowl. Thank you.” Alexandrov raised an empty hand, as if making a mock toast in Calvin’s honor.
Calvin stared at the Russian, but didn’t say anything, taking the jab without comment.
“This is my associate, Igor.”
Calvin locked gazes with the bodyguard, and neither gave an inch. They were about the same height and had it been a boxing match, they’d have been in the same weight class. Burkov gave a snarl, and then crossed his arms.
“Nice haircut. Looks fresh.” Dale looked at Jimmy who nodded in understanding. “You didn’t have that when you met with Ace Sanders a few days ago.”
“Nevada is an extremely hot state.”
Dale pulled out a tape recorder and placed it on the chess board. “Detective Dayton, 10:34 a.m. Wednesday, March fourth. Mr. Alexandrov has waived his right to an attorney.” Dale handed Alexandrov a Rights Waiver Form to sign.
Once it was signed, Dale said, “So, we’ve heard that you met with Ace Sanders three days before his escape.”
“I liked Mr. Ace. He was a businessman, like me,” he said, with a thick accent.
“What was the nature of this meeting?”
“Oh, Mr. Ace wanted to do business. He was looking for protection in here. This is a scary place, Detective.” The Russian looked like a snake when he smiled.
“Why would Sanders need protection? Did he have enemies?”
Alexandrov smiled. “We all have enemies.”
“It was quite a long conversation. What else was discussed?”
“Just his protection. You have it on tape…” Alexandrov hesitated and then continued. “Oh, that’s right, the ACLU doesn’t allow you to listen in—what a shame. I just love this country, with their rights and laws.”
“Were you involved in Sanders’ escape?”
Alexandrov’s face feigned surprise. “This morning was the first I’d heard of it.”
“So he didn’t mention it to you?” Jimmy asked.
Alexandrov shook his head. “Not at all. For all I knew, Mr. Ace was really enjoying our retirement community.”
“So, you aren’t involved in this mess in any way at all?” Jimmy asked.
The Russian shrugged, pursed his lips and shook his head. He sat still, in defiant silence.
Burkov swayed back and forth on the balls of his toes, looking like he was ready to pounce at his boss’s order.
Dale opened the sheaf of papers he’d brought in with him. “You amassed quite a rap sheet before coming here.” He read from the sheet. “Aggravated assault (six counts), possession of a firearm, kidnapping (four counts), criminal possession of a weapon in the first degree, criminal possession of a weapon in the second degree, criminal possession of a weapon in the third degree, aggravated assault of a peace officer, resisting arrest, first degree murder (twelve counts).”
Alexandrov smiled. “I was acquitted of those.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re innocent, does it? Too bad you couldn’t bully your way out of this one.”
Alexandrov didn’t answer.
Dale whispered into Jimmy’s ear, “We’re not gonna get anywhere with him. It doesn’t matter how many questions we ask, he won’t answer us honestly.”
Jimmy nodded.
“You know, Mr. Alexandrov, cooperation from you could go a long way in court. Maybe reduce your sentence,” Dale said.
Alexandrov snorted. “You don’t have the pay grade, Detective.”
Dale sighed, frustrated. “Thank you for your time.”
“Da.”
The three men left the cell and headed back towards the room. As they rounded the corner and entered a hallway, Calvin stopped abruptly.
Dale looked back. “What’s up?”
“Let me talk to Alexandrov.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jimmy said.
“Why not? He obviously won’t talk to you guys, you’re cops. Maybe I can get something out of him.”
Dale looked at Jimmy, who shook his head and mouthed “no”.
“This is what I do,” Calvin said. “I’ve been getting information from people for years. Might as well make use of my talents.”
Dale was unsure. “Calvin, this is a prison, it isn’t the streets. You can’t use those tactics in here.”
Calvin smiled. “Trust me.”
“What the hell, go for it,” Dale finally said.
“Dale—” Jimmy started.
“He’s right, Jimmy. Alexandrov won’t answer our questions. He won’t cooperate with cops. Hell, we expected that before going in there. We need some information on Sanders. We’re standing in quicksand with this one. How could it hurt?” He turned to Calvin. “Okay, what’s the plan?”
Calvin shrugged. “No plan.” He smiled. “I’m just gonna ask him nicely.”
“Remember, there will be eyes on you,” Jimmy said.
Calvin patted them both on the back. “You guys are just gonna have to trust me.”
“Okay, we’ll be watching from the room. Let’s go, Jimmy. Good luck, Calvin.”
When Calvin had left, Dale looked at Jimmy and said, “Did a former leg-breaker and murder suspect just tell us to trust him?”
♣
Calvin returned to the cell. Alexandrov was lying down on the cot, arms crossed over his chest like a mummy, and Burkov stood just inside the cell door, his arms locked confidently across his chest.
Calvin stopped in front of Burkov, standing nose-to-nose. “I have a few more questions. Can I enter, Boss?”
Burkov’s face was like stone. “Nyet.”
“Oh, you do speak. Good boy.”
Burkov made fists, the veins in his arms and neck popping out. He breathed loudly through his nose, grinding his teeth, and staring hard.
Alexandrov sat up on the cot, and motioned Calvin inside. “It’s okay, Igor, let the choker in.”
Calvin didn’t wait for Burkov to step aside. He tried to slip in between Burkov and the bars when the bodyguard grabbed him by the wrist, grasping his arm tight. Calvin swung his body, using his momentum to twist Burkov’s arm aggressively behind his back, and put the bulky Russian in a choke hold with a strong right-armed grip.
Burkov struggled, using brute force to try and break the move, but Calvin wasn’t budging. Calvin could see the man turn blue, his breathing slow. He pressed the giant Russian against the bars, mashing his face against the steel as blood dripped from his lips.
Alexandrov stood. “There’s no need for this, Mr. Calvin. Don’t come into my house and start this. If you want to talk, I’ll talk.”
Calvin released the hold, but only slowly. He smiled. “Hey, what d’ya know? You’re right. I am a choker.”
Burkov pulled fiercely out and turned to face Calvin. Alexandrov yelled something in Russian, and Burkov backed off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Enter, Mr. Calvin.”
Calvin stepped in and looked at the chessboard, he could feel Burkov’s stare on him from behind. “How about a game?”
♣
When Calvin stepped back into the observation room, Dale, Jimmy and the warden waited just inside the door.
“You played that one pretty tight, your toe a little too close to the line. I had to keep the warden from sending in the troops when you almost choked out Burko
v,” Dale said.
“I’ve never seen Alexandrov lose a game of chess before,” the warden admitted.
“Everybody runs out of luck eventually.”
“I doubt you learned how to play chess in foster homes,” Jimmy said.
“The internet. I play against people from all over the world. When I moved to Vegas, I met a guy who showed me a few things. Jarvis and I play once a week. He might be blind, but he’s one hell of a chess player.”
“We didn’t see any talking. Did he give you anything?” asked Dale.
Calvin shook his head. “Nothing. We didn’t say a word the whole time. Let’s go.”
They said goodbye and let themselves out. When they got in the car and Jimmy pulled out, Dale turned in the passenger’s seat and looked at Calvin.
“Okay, so what did you do?”
“What do you mean?” Jimmy asked.
Calvin smiled. “What makes you think I did something?”
“Because I’ve worked with you before, and I know how you think and act. Your brother told me you were a US Military history buff. You know when to use brute force, and you know when to use finesse, smarts, when that kind of arrangement is needed.”
Calvin removed a small electronic device from his pocket and plugged in a tiny pair of earbuds.
Dale’s eyes grew. “You planted a bug?”
“Two, actually.”
Dale looked at Jimmy. “Did you see him do that?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Nope, and I doubt the warden did, either. Or at least I hope he didn’t.”
Dale turned back to Calvin. “Okay, you put one on the chess board. Where is the other one?”
“My buddy.”
“You planted a bug on Burkov?”
“Yep. A Radio Frequency Bug just under the collar at the back of his jumpsuit. The warden said that Alexandrov doesn’t go anywhere without him, so we should be able to hear them at all times.”
“How’d he not feel it?”
“He was too busy being pissed at me. Plus they aren’t very big. You guys seem to forget that I’m a PI, with the best equipment money can buy. There’s a transmitter in this recorder so it’ll save everything.”
“Where did you get the money for all of this stuff?” Jimmy asked.