Ogrodnik Interior 2.0c

by Gary

  “What makes you say that?” Elliot replied as he turned to face the captain.

  “This was not a random act of vandalism. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. They could have easily burned the house down. It would have been much simpler to throw the accelerant into the house, but instead it was strategically spread over the bricks and metal front door—the two areas that would not burn well. In essence, the manner in which the accelerant was deployed delayed the burn process and gave us the time to put the fire out before the entire house was gone.”

  “The front door was locked, so he couldn’t have thrown the gas container inside,” replied Elliot playing devil’s advocate.

  “The door was unlocked, Mr. Forsman. I tried it myself, and just for the record, the accelerant was not gas. It was toluene.”

  That’s odd, thought Elliot. He always locked the doors.

  “Toluene? Isn’t that a solvent?”

  “Yes. It’s used mostly as an industrial solvent or as a gasoline additive for extra performance. We don’t see it used often as an accelerant because it’s just not as common as gasoline. But because it burns so much hotter than gasoline, it could have advantages for those who know how to use it. People who handle and use accelerants on a regular basis would develop an affinity for a given product. These people would prefer to always use the same accelerant as they would get accustomed to the product and be able to take advantage of its unique characteristics.”

  “What type of professions work with fire?”

  “Firemen, of course, certain armed forces units, specialized insurance investigators and the like.”

  “Thanks for the info, Captain,” replied Elliot as he started toward the house.

  “Captain, one more question. Have you ever experienced other arson jobs using toluene?“

  “Yes, I have. Let me think,” he said as he squinted. “The last time I saw this was quite a while ago, maybe eight or nine years, when the Waller Building at McGill University was torched. There was no mistaking the intent there. By the time we responded, the entire building was gone.”

  Elliot remembered the event well. The Waller Building was where McGill University conducted their pre-clinical drug trials. They had lost everything, years of tissue cultures, genetically modified mice, as well as months of data from their ongoing trials. Essentially, the entire pre-clinical program was put on hold for over a year while they found a new home and started up the practice again. Elliot could not ignore the circumstances of the fire and its connection to pharmaceuticals. He did not believe in coincidences but could not fathom how a fire eight years ago could be connected to the recent happenings and his father’s death.

  The captain had been right. The entrance way was in shambles. The door was still on but was badly scorched. Entering the house was worse. The antique mirror that usually greeted him when he came home was staring up at him from the floor in a thousand pieces. The entire area reeked and reminded him of the wet, sooty smell of a campfire after a rain storm.

  The inside walls beside and above the door were gone. Likely, the end result of an axe in its search of unseen flame. He could hear the water still dripping from somewhere down into the basement.

  Elliot surveyed the damage and thought about the why. It was clearly a warning. From Biovonix? The police? The mysterious big man? Could be any of them, or all of them. There wasn’t much he could accomplish that night; he decided to grab a few items and stay at his father’s until the house was fixed.

  He went upstairs and filled an overnight bag with enough clothes to get him through the next few days and then down to the kitchen to get his laptop. He stood in the kitchen entrance without entering. He sensed, rather than knew, that something was amiss. Like the disoriented feeling one gets when a piece of furniture has been moved but you are unable to identify what it was. This was not how he had left the kitchen this morning, but given that there was a fire, maybe the firemen were in the kitchen. When he panned his view to the far right, he saw that instead of the vigilant face of his laptop screen keeping watch over the kitchen, there were four photographs on the table in its place. The photo on the left was a close-up of himself walking on the sidewalk in front of JFK. The next one was of Rivka with a bag of groceries under one arm unlocking the front door of her house. The third was another close-up, this time of his son as he was descending the steps of what looked like a university building. Across Jake's photo was a scrawl in red marker that said, "Final notice." The fourth photo was face down. He turned it over to see a photo of his father walking up the street from his house. He could tell by the level of snow melt and size of the snow banks that it was a recent spring photo, probably only days before he was killed.

  Elliot swept the photos off the table, arched his neck back and closed his eyes. A swell of rage swept through him as thoughts of violence ran through his mind. He thought of his gun upstairs and Banik sitting in his grand office with a smug look on his face. He thought about a confrontation with Yilmaz, his fists and feet doing all the talking and Yilmaz forced to listen. He thought about how good it would feel to strike back, to hurt them in the same way that they had hurt him.

  But, as the rage ebbed his thoughts of retribution faded with it. He bent forward and placed his hands on the table, his shoulders slumped and neck drooped forward. The rage now gone, replaced by the stark realization of the situation he was in.

  CHAPTER 45

  Elliot’s heart was racing, so he sat down at the table to calm himself and take it all in. Whoever had started the fire must have been in the house first. There was no note, but the message was clear. He and the two people closest to him had been under surveillance, just as his father was in his last days. Someone else had already determined his father’s future, and now they were threatening to make the same decisions for Elliot, Rivka, and Jake.

  He took stock of where he was in the investigation and what he should do next. His standing theory was that his father was killed because of information he stumbled upon regarding Biovonix and the drug Isotin. Banik was likely behind the murder, but he had no proof of that nor was he likely to get any. Banik hired a small army of mercenaries in Eastern Security that enforced the law, his law. He also had the police in his back pocket for when the mercenaries needed support. Banik’s miracle drug, which will be worth billions to Banik and his investors, was only days from getting approval. People had been killed for far less. He came to the conclusion that if Banik had himself or Rivka murdered, it would eventually lead to questions and connections to his father’s murder. Once the press made that connection, it would only be a matter of time before Biovonix would come under scrutiny. That was why he and Rivka were still alive. He also concluded that as soon as Yilmaz determined that their investigation was getting too close or that Elliot would not give up the chase, Eastern would have no choice but to eliminate the JFK threat.

  He couldn’t go to the police for obvious reasons. He could take his story to the press, but he didn’t have anything for them. There was no proof; there was only conjecture, speculation, and unfounded theories. No newspaper would touch a story like this without proof. Men like Banik would eat the paper alive if they went to press without any backing.

  He stared blankly at the aquarium as he peeled through the events of the past days. He’d made remarkable headway into the case in just five days, but every time he thought he was about to get close, to catch a break, he was shut down. Someone was manipulating events. Someone was pulling strings, and Elliot was just one of the puppets. He imagined a stage with Elliot and Rivka puppets being chased by police puppets with thug puppets lying in wait for them. Off to the side of the stage were the crumpled forms of his father and Frank, their strings clipped and jointed bodies motionless. Orchestrating the entire stage overhead was Alex Banik.

  As he mulled over his situation, he noticed there was no sucker fish on the aquarium glass. He walked over to see where it might have been hiding and noticed something at the bottom of the tank. He saw
the lifeless body of the sucker fish lying at the bottom of the tank, skewered with a toothpick.

  CHAPTER 46

  Elliot cracked a beer and sat back down at the table to assess his situation. Up until now, he’d been gung-ho to find his father’s killer and bring him to justice. This was more than he anticipated. He weighed his options and asked himself what he had to gain by going through with the investigation and what he had to lose. The more he thought about it, the more one sided the equation became in his mind.

  His father was dead, and his killer should be made accountable. Ever since the day in the grocery store with his mother, he imagined himself as the firebrand of justice, a shining sword in the night, slashing through the dark shadows where crime lived. For the first time, he thought it was an infantile dream. He was not the noble knight he imagined himself to be. There was no such thing. He was just a man with a fantasy. No, more like a man with a delusion. The crime novel heroes he fashioned his dreams after did not exist: his life, a charade.

  This insight slammed into his head like an uppercut, and he realized he was hopelessly out of his league. He had jumped head first into a situation that he couldn’t manage and had dragged those he cared about in with him.

  The other side of the ledger already had his father and Frank on it and now threatened to add himself, his partner, and his son. The decision was obvious. He would shut it down. He would stop the investigation, forget about Biovonix, about Les RD Boys, the big man and turn his back on Banik, Yilmaz, and his thugs. He’d wave the proverbial white flag and surrender. He didn’t like the idea of slinking back to his little practice with his tail between his legs, but the alternative was not an option.

  Now that he’d made the decision, he felt tiny in his chair, insignificant and foolish. He felt the burden of duty shift from his shoulders down into his chest. It settled in close to his heart and next to his soul, where it hung like a dead animal.

  CHAPTER 47

  Elliot didn’t want to think about the future of JFK. He might even fold the company while he was at it. There was always school to fall back on. Even that was optional. He no longer needed money. Between his father’s savings and life insurance, he would never need to work again. He picked up the photos and stuffed them into his overnight bag and then paused when he saw the case files he had left on the counter two days ago. Whoever came for the laptop either didn’t want these or didn’t see them. Without thinking about it, he stuffed them into the open bag and left.

  ********************************

  Elliot unlocked the door at his father’s house and turned the lights on.

  He thought he should feel relieved after making his decision, but he didn’t. The first thing he did was open a bottle of wine from the liquor cabinet and poured a glass. He needed to talk to Jake and Rivka to let them know what was happening.

  “Hello,” he heard on the other end of the line.

  “Jake,” he said and let the words hang for a moment. “It’s Dad.”

  “Dad. How are you?” Jake answered. Elliot heard a question behind the question that asked, "Why are you calling me?’

  “Is something wrong?” Jake added before his father could reply.

  “Yes and no. I’ve got myself involved in a situation that may affect the people around me, so I’m calling to give you a warning and explain myself before it goes any further.”

  “Okay,” answered Jake cautiously.

  Elliot proceeded to tell Jake about how he started looking for his grandfather’s killer and where it had led him over the past week. The only sounds from Jake were grunts of acknowledgement.

  “So Jake, in order to make this right, I’m stopping the investigation immediately. That should appease the powers that be. I’d also like you to take a hiatus from school for a couple of weeks. I want you to go somewhere where nobody can find you. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. Use cash only, and don’t call anyone. These people are more powerful than you can imagine. Look at my Facebook page every day, and I’ll give you updates if there are any.“

  “OK, I’ll leave in the morning. Be careful, Dad.”

  “You too, son.”

  CHAPTER 48

  “Hello.”

  “Riv,” Elliot blurted.

  “Oh, hi. How’s the fire?”

  “The fire was mostly confined to the front door and porch.”

  “What happened?”

  “It was arson, Riv. It was a warning from our friends. They also left a clear message.”

  “Oh?”

  “On the kitchen table, they left photos of me, you, and Jake: all taken from a distance with a telephoto lens. We’ve all been under surveillance.”

  “Riv,” he said to stop her from saying anything yet. “They also left a photo of Dad, turned face down on the table.”

  “The bastards. We’ll get them, Elliot.”

  “No, Riv. I’m conceding. I’m waving the white flag. I can’t put those closest to me in danger any longer. I can’t risk it, Riv. It’s not worth it. I’m telling Banik and Yilmaz that we’re shutting down the investigation and walking away.”

  “Elliot, they killed your father,” Rivka yelled trying and failing to keep her voice from cracking. “What about the Stungun Killer? You’ll let him walk away? Are you telling me you want to turn your back on all of them?”

  “Rivka, we can’t win,” he said, resignation ringing in his voice. “They have resources we can’t even comprehend. Every time we turn, they’re already there. We can’t bring back my father, Frank, or your niece, but we can live to fight another day.”

  “Knowing that we could have made a difference and then not following through is not living, Elliot,” said Rivka as her voice shook. “It’s dying!”

  The phone disconnected.

  CHAPTER 49

  Rivka tossed the phone into her purse in irritation.

  How could he do that? she thought. He can’t make that kind of decision on his own. He can’t let these killers just walk away. They killed his bloody father. What was he thinking? She wondered how she ever considered Elliot a friend, how she had ever admired him. How did she not see this side of him before? He was nothing but a goddamn coward.

  CHAPTER 50

  “Enver Yilmaz.”

  “One moment, please,” answered the receptionist in her usual efficient manner.

  A few minutes later, a voice answered on the phone.

  “Yilmaz here.”

  “Yilmaz, Elliot Forsman.”

  “What do you want, Forsman?” Yilmaz answered without enthusiasm.

  “I got your message; I’m shutting down the investigation. Call off your dogs, and I promise not to pursue the matter any longer.”

  “Wise choice, Forsman.”

  “What assurances do I have that you’ll back off?”

  “All I can offer is my word.”

  “Stay away from me and mine,” spat Elliot as he slammed the phone down.

  CHAPTER 51

  “Banik, Yilmaz here.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Forsman just called. He’s says he’s dropping the case.”

  “Do you believe him?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He knows too much. I’m going to take him and his partner out. I’ll do it quietly and make them disappear. ”

  “Do what you have to do.”

  CHAPTER 52

  “Hello, Anne. Elliot here.”

  “Elliot! Quel surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I’m enjoying a nice glass of 2006 Bordeaux de Treux and thought to myself, 'This would really go well with some female accompaniment.' Interested?”

  “’I’m always willing to moisten my palette.”

  “That sounds indecent.”

  “What’s your address? I’ll call a cab.”

  “620a Elm Avenue.”

  “You’re upstairs?”

  Elliot stomped on the floor with his heel three times to acknowledge Anne’s question.

  “Oh,
how unusual. You rode your horse.”

  “Naaaayyyy.”

  “I’ll be up shortly, horse man.”

  Elliot refilled his glass and poured another for Anne while he waited and did not permit himself to think of the case or his recent decision to back off. He hooked his phone up to the stereo and played some Van Morrison. Van played an unusual blend of jazz, soul, and traditional Celtic music that was all pulled together by Van’s throaty voice that filled the musical hollows without overpowering them. Just as "Tupelo Honey" was concluding, he heard a knock on the basement door followed by the sound of a slide lock being opened. He opened the door on his side and was greeted by Anne in a tight, black t-shirt dress that covered everything but hid nothing. She was stunning. Elliot stood at the door with a wine glass in each hand, and all thoughts of the pleasant conversation to come vanished when he saw her. The intended greeting kiss morphed into something long and deep.

  Hours later, the light of the moon crept across the floor to reveal two still full wine glasses standing sentry over a rumpled black dress.

  CHAPTER 53

  Elliot lay in Anne’s bed looking at her back as she slept facing the wall. Her shoulders and back were uncovered, and he watched in fascination as her back rose and fell slowly with each breath. She had the toned musculature of an athlete, and he wondered what she did to keep in shape. A small birthmark on her neck, just below the ear, caught his attention. Without thinking he reached up and touched it lightly with his finger, tracing around and over it. His touch was light, but it was enough to wake Anne.

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” she said lazily.

  “That ship sailed last night.”

  “Ha-ha, I guess you’re right. It’s Friday. Do you have plans for the day? You’ve probably got work to do on your case.”