Dead Game jm-3

by Kirk Russell

  “Yeah, but the story made more sense yesterday.”

  “The way I hear it you’ve already been allowed unusual access.”

  The crow cut back in. “Which you just abused. Listen to me, Lieutenant, a lot of people are at risk and this is not a game of who’s hooking those bizarre-looking fish.” Her nostrils flared. “If you aren’t one hundred percent straight with us, you’ll put agents at risk. I guarantee you, you’ll lose your badge, your job, and your honor.”

  “My honor?”

  “That’s exactly right.”

  “Where’s Ehrmann?”

  “Unavailable.”

  Marquez looked at Peres. “Are you part of the undercover team watching Weisson’s? I feel like I saw you in a window.” Peres stared hard at him. “Am I right?”

  Peres turned to his companions. “The only safe thing is to lock him up until this is over. We’ve got him up on a levee road playing James Bond, and I don’t want to take this risk. Let’s find her and let’s hold him.”

  “You’re making the risks,” Marquez said.

  Peres turned to the balding agent. “Who is this horse’s ass?”

  But the balding agent had a question now for Marquez. “What do you mean you saw him in a window?”

  “He didn’t see me,” Peres said.

  “We saw a surveillance team, and Peres here looks like the guy that was in the window. I looked at him with binoculars, but I could be wrong. We were checking out everything surrounding Weisson’s because we’d followed two suspects there.” The balding agent nodded. “Look, I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have met with her, but we’re still trying to crack this poaching ring. She told me she had information on the poachers she’d give me today and I bit. I should have called you first.”

  He realized he’d started to get through to them and continued talking. The balding agent was Stan Sullivan. He introduced the crow. “This is Special Agent Walker,” and Marquez gathered that she was out here from the East, possibly Quantico. She was dead serious as she faced him again.

  “We have significant charges we’re prepared to file against a number of people. I don’t know the details of the promise made to Burdovsky, but I’m certain we haven’t reneged on anything. We wouldn’t do that. That’s all I can say about it. I know about Seattle, and despite what you may believe, the Bureau is very sympathetic to what you are trying to do.”

  The door opened, and Douglas walked in. He took a seat and looked across the table at Marquez.

  “John,” Douglas asked, “did she tell you anything else?”

  In this room full of people Douglas focused on him, was trying to communicate with him. He waited for Marquez to respond to the cue. Marquez told the story again. Left out nothing, added what he was saving for Ehrmann, that she’d asked him not to stop her from trying to get away.

  “Why wouldn’t you stop her? She burned you.”

  “She was three steps and in the water and there were two blacked-out Suburbans closing on me. I didn’t see any reason to chase her.” Then the last thing, what he was saving for Ehrmann. “She said you have another source inside this Eurasian crime ring and that you don’t need her.”

  “She told you we have another source?”

  Marquez nodded, added that he’d been waiting for Ehrmann to arrive.

  Marquez heard Peres to the crow, “What did I tell you?”

  Douglas silenced Peres with his hand.

  “Did she name this other source, John?”

  “No, and she didn’t say any more than that.”

  “That’s disturbing.”

  The room was quiet. The crow’s stare had turned opaque. But the balding agent seemed to understand his holding out for Ehrmann.

  “How soon is your bust?” Marquez asked.

  “Too soon to have her running around.” Douglas looked from Marquez to the balding man. “We need to get Ehrmann right now.”

  36

  He was another hour at the Sacramento Field Office, and when he walked out he was no longer angry that he’d been hauled in. He knew what the hours before a bust felt like, the countdown after the hour was picked, the premeetings done, the safety talks, warrants in place, everything ready to go. Then something unexpected happens and you don’t really know what to do with it, par t icularly at the Federal level where the momentum is harder to start and stop. Momentum acquired its own life as a big bust neared, and in the hyped-up, sometimes near paranoid state before a significant takedown anything could rattle you.

  But he was disturbed by what he’d learned and what he was piecing together. They hadn’t found Anna and were frustrated and surprised she’d eluded them. Ehrmann had walked into the room where Marquez sat with Douglas and asked, “Where is there to hide out there? There’s nothing there but vineyards and orchards. There aren’t six buildings on that levee island. Is she scuba trained? Is it possible she swam out underwater in the slough? How could we lose her out there?”

  Now darkness was coming. Ehrmann had made it clear they were going forward with the bust, and Marquez had guessed that explained Douglas’s presence in Sacramento. Not even Douglas would tell him when the go hour was, but it wasn’t hard to figure out it was within twenty-four hours.

  He drove to the safehouse and continued on to Bell’s house. Everything was in place for Ludovna’s visit. Roberts would be his wife for the night. She had put on bright pink lipstick and cut up celery and emptied bags of baby carrots and potato chips onto a platter. There was a sour cream dip.

  “I’m in here, honey,” she called, and he heard Cairo laugh. “Would you bring me a martini?”

  He walked into Bell’s study, and they were arranging fishing trophies and had hung photos. In a loose way they’d decorated the house for the guy he was. Roberts smiled and batted her eyes at him.

  “I forgot the martini.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie, but do you think everything looks nice? Should I run out to the market and buy more potato chips, and do you think your friend will go through more than one bottle of vodka?”

  “He might but we’ll pour champagne first. He told me he’s bringing some caviar.”

  “That’s too bad, I thought we should poach our own sturgeon. I thought that’s why you’re late. Wouldn’t the party be more fun that way?”

  He smiled at her. “You look nice. I’ve been with the Feds and that’s why I’m late.”

  “I went all out,” she said, and she wore a tight black dress, her long legs stretching from underneath it. “I bet I know what you’re wondering,” she said. “You’re wondering where my gun is.”

  “You’re not wearing it.”

  “Not tonight. I have it here in the kitchen and I could change, what do you think?”

  Alvarez would be on the street and Marquez wasn’t worried, but he was jittery. He tried to lighten up and hook into the banter, but his mind was on the FBI bust. Ludovna connected to Weisson’s via the sturgeon and that got talked about in the FBI Field Office. He’d sat an hour with Ehrmann at the long table there and ticked off the names again of the suspects in their sturgeon poaching investigation. Ehrmann had acknowledged that the Bureau suspected Ludovna was trafficking in caviar. But he wasn’t concerned about Ludovna’s animal trafficking. That was Marquez’s to deal with. The conversation was all about Anna.

  Marquez sat with Roberts before Ludovna arrived. He told her what had happened today, told her about the call from Anna, meeting on the slough road, the questioning at the FBI Field Office.

  “They’re getting ready to make a bust and they’re not saying where or when, but it’s very soon. I saw an FBI SWAT commander that I recognized come through the Sacramento Field Office while I was there, and they all have that feel to them. They’re gearing up. What I’m not clear about is Anna’s role. I think they were hoping she’d get some particular bit of intelligence for them. They hoped and she didn’t deliver, and now they’re not sure what side she’s on. She’s stopped cooperating with them. They’ve threatened
her with new charges and that’s frightened her even more. And, because they didn’t find her today, they think she had help escaping.”

  “What do you think?”

  “She might have had help. My friend Douglas showed up and that calmed things down, but they’re wired up and ready to go.” He paused. “I made a mistake meeting her this morning without calling Ehrmann first.”

  “Because she’s trying to use you?”

  “Or communicate through me. She knows I don’t trust her, but she assumes the FBI is talking to me.”

  “Sounds like they did plenty of that.”

  “If by any chance her name comes up tonight, and there’s no reason to think it will, play dumb with Ludovna.”

  “That’s easy for me. No one has ever seen me with her. Not so easy for you if August knows Ludovna and they’re talking.”

  “If that’s the case, then Ludovna has always known who I am.”

  Marquez could see headlights out on the street. Wind picked up dry leaves from the gutter and sidewalk that flickered in front of the headlights as the BMW turned into the driveway. His cell rang. Alvarez said, “Your guests are here.”

  “Who’s with him?”

  “Nike Man.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I should get it,” Roberts said.

  “Yeah, it should be you. Remember he’s still suspicious of me. He was an interrogation specialist, and he’s here to find out about me. He may ask you a lot of questions, and he may try to get you alone to question you.”

  “And whatever else.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  Roberts opened the door and said something that was supposed to translate as Greetings! I welcome you. She got it off an Internet clip of Voyager space ship greetings in various languages, kept replaying the Russian one until she got it down. They moved into the living room, and Ludovna smiled at Marquez after he took in the room. He spread his arms.

  “So you were fucking with me. You live like a king.”

  “I’d rather have that house of yours and what comes with it.” He winked at Ludovna. “I’ll trade you.”

  “How much is this worth?”

  “Two and a half million, but we don’t own it. We lease and it costs too much to do that, but to build a business you have to put a good face on.”

  Ludovna’s gaze followed the skin high on Robert’s thigh as she bent over and put down the plate of appetizers. Marquez opened the first bottle of champagne, and Ludovna made a present of the caviar he’d brought. He had it rolled up in a black cashmere scarf that he pulled from the pocket of his coat and unfolded, revealing the glass jar. He gave it to Roberts, taking her hand, pressing the jar into her palm.

  “Better than gold,” he said.

  Marquez took the jar from her, made a show of trying to read the label while complaining about nearsightedness. Caspian label but he had to wonder if it was from Raburn’s, and it would be like Ludovna to test him now. The vacuum seal on the jar made a low pop as he opened it. The cork came out of the champagne, and Roberts took the bottle from him, her eyes teasing him, saying, “That’s my job.”

  She poured Ludovna’s glass first, then Nike Man and came back to Ludovna because the champagne’s foamy bubbles had kept her from filling the glass as high as she’d wanted. She was near enough to him for Ludovna to feel the heat off her legs, and later, after Marquez had toured him around the lower floor of the house and satiated his initial curiosity, and after Nike Man had gone down the hallway to use the bathroom and secretly look into the bedroom, after they had opened the vodka and drunk a couple of glasses, Ludovna took him aside.

  “Your wife,” he said.

  “What about her?”

  “Does she know about our business?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sometimes I want you to send her instead of delivering yourself.”

  “She may not want to do that.”

  “But you’ll ask her, okay, and then you get her to do that for me. I don’t like the same people delivering all the time.” Ludovna moved the air with his hand. “Too predictable.”

  “She likes to stay out of it, but I have a friend-”

  “No friends.”

  “Look-”

  “No, you understand, I don’t want anybody more that I don’t know, so send her sometimes. I’ll tell you when.”

  Before the night was over Ludovna had held her hands, kissed the backs of each, and told her she was lovely and he wanted to see her again. He said good night to Marquez, but he thanked Roberts. After he left they rearranged the paintings, collected the trophies and moved everything into the garage as Marquez had promised Bell.

  “I’m real surprised Bell let us use his house,” Roberts said.

  “He said it doesn’t feel like his house anymore, and he’s signed a lease on a house in D.C. You ready to get out of here?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Marquez turned off the lights, shut the door. He doubted he’d ever see the inside of the house again and wondered when he’d see Bell. He got in his truck, and Roberts pulled away ahead of him. He figured he’d call Katherine after stopping in at the safehouse and then make the hour-and-a-half drive home. Then, just before getting to the safehouse, he got a call from Ehrmann.

  “Where are you, Lieutenant?”

  “In Sacramento at our safehouse.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what happened today, and I’m sorry for the way it went down with you. Not all of the agents were up to speed on your team working with her. There was no reason to bring you in that way.”

  They were playing a game here. Ehrmann didn’t owe any real apology and they both knew it, but Marquez went along.

  “No, I shouldn’t have gone out to meet her. I should have called you, but I’ve wanted to confront her in person, and she sucked me in with the promise of names of poachers. Have you found her yet?”

  “No.”

  “Are you out there looking for her tonight?”

  “Until we find her we’ll be out there.” There was a staticky pause, and Marquez realized they hadn’t gotten to the reason for the call yet. “How far is your safehouse from our field office?”

  He had no doubt Ehrmann already knew the answer to that, and he knew what was coming but wasn’t sure of Ehrmann’s reasons.

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “Do you want to ride along with me tonight? There are people you might help us connect.”

  “So it’s tonight.”

  “We’re stacked and nearly ready to go. You and I won’t go to the on-scene command post, but we’ve got a building we monitor from and afterwards you’ll get a look at the suspects. We’d like you to listen in to the initial interrogations. With these Eurasian gangs we get a lot of partial answers, things alluded to but not said, and you may hear something said about sturgeon poaching and be able to help us with the next question. We’re going to separate them and try to work a couple against each other. Some of these guys will get charged with enough to put them away for life.”

  “All right, I’m on my way.”

  He wheeled the truck around and accelerated. At this hour he’d probably get there in under ten minutes.

  37

  The FBI Sacramento Field Office kept a SWAT team, but Weisson’s was big enough that they had probably asked for help from San Francisco, which had an Enhanced SWAT team, one whose training included hostage rescue. The Feds prided themselves on gathering and preparing and probably had a precise plan for the takedown. They’d have layout diagrams, blueprints of the building, the whole works. If there was going to be a dynamic entry, then it was likely to be on the front face. Their usual MO was to show up with overwhelming force, seal and contain, then call out the suspects, one team waiting on the back side, one on the front, an extrication team standing by.

  And they had a predesignated location they were gathered at now, a staged location where the on-scene SWAT commander would run the bust from. Blacked-out Suburbans with their ru
nners on were already lined up, stacked and ready by the time Ehrmann had called him, and if they’d suspected him in any way, there was no chance the call from Ehrmann would have happened. He felt an odd relief in that.

  Marquez waited now for the heavy steel gate to roll open. He’d heard the gate had cost eight hundred thousand dollars and could stop an eighteen-wheeler at fifty-five miles an hour. Ehrmann walked out as the gate opened and directed Marquez where to park. A few minutes later they left in Ehrmann’s car.

  “How many are in the building?”

  “Five and some bodyguards, and then there’s us.”

  He smiled over at Marquez, but Ehrmann didn’t really have the demeanor of a field guy, and his joking lacked the feel of someone who’d been there. It made Marquez think of some of the new aspects of the Bureau. The weight had shifted from CID and criminal investigation into the still amorphous fight against terrorism. Taking on Eurasian criminal gangs required an international scope and understanding of elaborate computer crime and sophisticated networks overlapping countries. It took a different kind of breed. Ehrmann was probably very adept with a computer. He thought of what Anna had said yesterday about Karsov owning a yacht he kept in the Med and a house in Switzerland.

  “Is Karsov here?”

  “We hope he is, and we think we watched him arrive, though the vehicle’s windows were tinted.”

  “What else do you expect to find in there?”

  “Weapons that came in disguised as car parts.”

  “Is that what this has always been about?”

  “Yes.”

  So it was all coming out now. Ehrmann was suddenly very upfront and nervous too. His hands moved constantly. A long investigation was coming down to a moment. Marquez listened to the back-and-forth radio chatter, listened to Ehrmann’s responses. Weisson’s had been color-coded by SWAT. The front was red, the back side black, the west end green, east blue, and the roof purple. The purple team would go in first and access the roof. A helicopter was on its way. They drove up to a drab building a good mile from Weisson’s, and Marquez saw a line of cars and several TV vans. He had thought they’d be as close as the on-scene SWAT commander, and Ehrmann guessed what he was thinking.