by R Weir
“I guess it’s not important for us to like each other to cooperate.”
“Wilson and I butted heads plenty and still got the job done. I’ll be happy to share what I know and will even start first, if you can give me information on the Platov boys. I have a feeling I’ll be running into them again and I need to know what I’m up against.”
“Tell me what you know.”
I gave Dezmond all the details of my encounter with them, all of which started when I began poking around in WANN Systems business and the murder of Aaron Bailey. For once, I didn’t leave anything out, other than whom my client was.
“So you are poking around trying to solve a murder and the three Platov boys show up. Who hired you?”
“I’d rather not say. Be safer for them, the fewer people know.”
“Fair enough. Certainly no coincidence they show up after you visit WANN Systems and talk with their former head of security.”
“How long have they been in town?”
“Flew in that night on a private jet.”
“And you know this?”
“We watch all undesirables these days pretty closely.”
“If they are undesirable, how come they aren’t in jail?”
“Nothing much to hold them on. You got them arrested and saw how quickly they were out. Even if charges hold up, they likely wouldn’t do much jail time. Most witnesses generally withdraw their complaints or disappear.”
This was worrying to hear. April could be in danger, though from the skill she showed the other day, she could probably handle herself. Still, a word of warning wouldn’t hurt.
“So give me the scoop on these three. I doubt they were raised in a church by nuns.”
No smile at my humor. He returned to his chair, sipping his juice.
“They are all from Chechnya. They were born there and during the two major wars with Russia, fought for and against Chechnya, eventually integrating into the Russian forces there. In time they left the army, being recruited to join several organized crime groups. One of those groups grew in scope and power, by making deals with other crime groups and then destroying their leadership by taking complete control. This was led by the man they work for, Orell Krupski. He is powerful and ruthless. Even the Russian government fears him.”
“Does his organization have a name?”
“Vlast, which loosely means control.”
“So, the Platov boys work for him?”
“Correct.”
“Why send them here about a simple murder case? Seems small in the grand scheme of things.”
Dezmond stopped to contemplate what to say next.
“It is rumored, though never proven, that Vlast may be investing in various companies, many in the United States.”
“And one of those companies is WANN Systems?”
“Yes. Though again, we’ve not seen any evidence of this. The money is filtered many times, through many countries throughout the world, before ending up in their hands. But on a couple of occasions WANN was out of money and on the verge of bankruptcy. The last time a few years back, they received an eleventh-hour infusion of cash in the hundreds of millions of dollars. It was never reported where it came from. A private investor was all that was said. After the tech crash, which lasted until 2002, investors were scarce. Companies weren’t picky about where the money came from. Even with the smaller crashes the last couple of years, cash is tougher to come by, at least without stipulations. It is possible they have a stake in WANN they are trying to protect. The question is, what threat did a lowly software engineer present that required killing him?”
“Is Vlast in the business of stealing user information?” I asked. “Identity theft?”
“Good question. Mostly they deal in drugs, prostitution and gambling. But some of the biggest Internet theft and hacker groups come out of Russia. They certainly could have their hands in that arena. It is a multibillion dollar business.”
“And all it needs is a bunch of nerds to capture the data and a network of connected machines for it to flow. WANN has all of that.”
“True, but how do we prove it. As of now, the Bureau can’t even begin to stop it. Most companies just write it off as a cost of doing business and don’t even try to bring anyone to justice for stealing this way.”
“My job is to solve a murder right now. That is the only thing that matters to me. If it leads down a road to a bigger fish, they are all yours. I can only do so much and would prefer not to be killed in some horrible fashion. So the question is, can you do something about getting the Platov boys off of my back so I can work?”
“So you think you can solve the murder?”
“Yes. But I can’t be looking over my shoulder constantly.”
Dezmond rubbed his chin for a good two minutes, then got on the phone.
“We need to get a team together to round up three terrorists and send them to Cuba. We need this ASAP. Put your best men together and we’ll have a meeting in two hours in the situation room where I’ll spell out the details… Sounds good. Thanks.”
Price turned his attention back to me, with a happy look on his face.
“Once we find them, we can hold them indefinitely. Probably seventy-two hours to hustle them out of the country.”
“They’ve got good lawyers.”
“Who?”
“Local ones. Bristol & Bristol. Do you know them?”
“I’ve heard of them. We’ll do our best to keep them away, so they don’t mess things up. Of course we won’t be reading them their rights or allowing them a phone call.”
“Sounds illegal.”
“Patriot Act says otherwise. These men are terrorists and a threat to national security.”
I wasn’t sure if that was completely true, but I wasn’t about to argue.
“Thanks.”
“I’m not doing it for you. And I expect updates on your progress.”
“I always cooperate with the Men in Black.”
“Wilson said you’d say that. And he said it was a lie.”
I smiled.
“Well, maybe an exaggeration.”
Chapter 18
Once my meeting was done, I immediately wanted to call April, but didn’t have her personal number. So I called down to the Denver PD and got Bill on the line, asking if he had it.
“What do you need it for?” he asked. I think he was concerned it was for personal reasons.
“After a conversation with the FBI, I need to let her know she might be in danger.”
“Related to your skirmish?”
“Yes. Those three are extremely dangerous.”
“Let me see if I can access the personnel records and find it.”
After several minutes he found her cell and gave it to me, which I called immediately.
“Hello.”
“April, it’s Jarvis. Where are you at?”
“Home. I’m about to go to my martial arts class. Why, what’s wrong?”
“You might be in danger. Do you have a gun?”
“It was taken from me while I’m on leave. I don’t own one myself. Why, am I in danger?”
“Those three men you took down and had arrested are some bad dudes…” I went on to explain what Dezmond had told me. There was no “oh my gosh” reaction from her.
“I’m not going to hide away. If they come after me, I won’t go quietly.”
“I’d feel better if you had a gun. I’ve got an extra .38 I can loan you.”
There was a lull before she answered.
“OK. But I’m late now for my class. Can’t it wait until I’m done?”
“Where is the class and I’ll bring it to you? Promise you’ll go straight there and don’t dawdle. If you see them, get somewhere safe.”
“Why Jarvis, I didn’t know you cared?”
“Enough not to see you dead!”
“Oh, you sweet talker.”
She gave me the address and promised to be diligent. I went home and got my extra
.38 and took it to the studio. When I arrived I found a seat as her class was already in session. She was a red belt and was very good, showing speed and agility. Several times she brought her opponent to the mat with a thundering thud. I liked what I saw and wondered if I should join to improve my hand-to-hand martial arts skills. After the sixty-minute session she was sweating hard. I was impressed with her skill set. She grabbed her bag and walked over.
“Damn, lady, I’m glad you were on my side the other day,” I stated. “Maybe you don’t need a gun.”
“Thank you,” she replied, while toweling the sweat off of her face. “I can hold my own in hand to hand. But three of them would be challenging. And if they are armed, there is no martial arts move that can deflect a bullet.”
“True. And they won’t underestimate you this time, thinking you’re just a sexy woman. They know you have some skills.”
“Sexy woman. Are those your words?”
I may have blushed, but did my best to mask it with a big grin.
“There is no denying it. They certainly thought so too. But now they’ll not hesitate.”
We walked outside and once we reached her car, I handed her the gun. She took it, opened it to verify it was loaded, and tucked it in her bag. I then handed her an extra box of bullets, in case the six inside weren’t enough.
“Gee, you’d think I was going to war!”
“Hopefully not,” I replied. “The FBI are going to round them up in the next day or so. Once they are put away, then the danger should be over.”
“And until then?”
“Stay home and lock the doors.”
“Hell no, Jarvis. I’m not hiding.”
“Then don’t go out unnecessarily.”
“What if a good-looking detective was with me? Would that be OK?”
I smiled.
“I didn’t realize you knew any other private detectives?”
She gave me a smirk.
“Of course I’m talking about you.”
I responded with an “oh, you meant me” gesture.
“I don’t normally go out on a date armed, unless the lady is dangerous. But yes, you should be safe.”
“So then dinner tonight? The one you owe me for saving your butt?”
I thought it over for a minute, but what else could I say? At least I’d know she was safe.
“It’s a date. You pick the place.”
“Colore’s. Pick me up at seven.”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, and thanks for the sweet corn. I’ve got it stored away in the fridge. Maybe you’ll have to come over for some later this week, if we live through our dinner.”
I had to laugh. Let’s hope we did.
Chapter 19
Time was short, but I needed to check in with my client. Mandy was home so I stopped by to give her an update. She let me in wearing blue jean shorts and a tank top. Her hair was tied back and she was wearing dark-framed glasses. This was much different than when I’d seen her the other times. At first I wondered if I was at the right house.
“Hardly recognized you,” I said, after letting me in.
“This is the casual me. The one for sitting around the house waiting with little to do.”
“Not working right now?”
“No, I’m still taking some time off. Feel like I need to get this settled before I can move on.”
“Money must not be an issue.”
“No, it’s not a problem right now.”
“What do you do normally?”
She paused for a minute. Not sure if she was uncomfortable with the question. I really wasn’t trying to grill her for information. Just wanted to make some small talk, though the more I knew about everything, even small facts about a client, the better I can do my job.
“I was an administrative coordinator at my last job. I quit shortly after Aaron was killed. Fortunately, we had a healthy amount of money stashed away, and no major bills other than mortgage and utilities. We weren’t the type of couple to spend money foolishly.”
“Good to hear you have no financial issues,” I said. “I do have some news I wanted to share about how the case is going.”
She pointed to a leather recliner for me to sit in, while she took the matching sofa, curling her legs under her.
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ve come to the conclusion you may be right about the murder of Aaron. Something fishy is going on over at WANN Systems.”
“What have you learned?”
Her eyes were focused on me, absorbing each word, as I filled her in on every detail of the last couple of days, other than graphically explaining about the three Russian enforcers’ past of killing witnesses. She showed no emotion or fear, which was a little surprising. Maybe inside she was tougher than she looked, or good at masking her feelings.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, standing up. “I have some coffee I can make, soda or some bottle water.”
“Water would be great.”
While she went to get the water I stood and looked around the room. The living area was small, what I expected from an average-sized two-story home. To the back was the small kitchen and dining area, to the right, an office or workroom. The furnishings were modern, with dark mahogany hardwood floors and surprisingly no television, and only a stereo system, with well-hidden speakers, as they were hard to find. There was a bookcase with various novels, many classics and some from modern writers, fiction and mystery the common theme. One shelf was open, with framed pictures of the couple: static poses of them together. Nothing obvious as to what they did in their spare time. Only poses of them hugging or holding hands, and one of their wedding day. The place was orderly and tidy, not a dust ball in sight. Either she was very neat or cleaned to pass the time. Mandy returned several minutes later and handed me the water, a cup of coffee in her hand, the steam rising from the mug.
“You have a nice home here,” I stated. “How are you holding up?”
“Thank you,” she replied, after a long sip of the dark brew. “The days are better, but the nights are lonely. Sleep is hard without Aaron by my side. I’m managing as well as can be expected.
“Do you have friends to help you? Talk to?”
“One really close friend. She checks up on me pretty regularly. Takes me out to dinner and we talk on the phone. I’m not the most social person and mostly keep to myself, other than with Aaron. You would say he was my soulmate.”
“Did you call any of those numbers I gave you? People who you can talk with and work through your emotions.”
“I did. But I’m not quite ready yet. I promise I will once this comes to a conclusion.”
“Don’t wait too long.”
Her sorrow appeared real and I was concerned. Deep and scarred, with a long road of healing ahead. It was a pain I felt earlier in the year when I lost Flynn. In time the hurt stopped, but you’d never completely get over it.
“Do you mind answering a couple of other questions about Aaron? It’s important for the case.”
She grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped her eyes, which were moist.
“Please do. Whatever I can do to help.”
“From those I talk with, they say WANN Systems were pretty much slave-drivers. Demanding their employees work crazy-long hours without paying any overtime. Was that the case with Aaron as well?”
“Yes. He did work sixty-plus hours a week at times. He’d fudge it some and still have time for us. But there were days where he’d work sixteen hours.”
“So did he work at home? Or was he always at the office?”
“No, he worked at home quite a bit.”
“So he would bring his notebook home then and work?”
“Yes, absolutely. Every day he carried it in his bag. It was a big powerful workhorse of a computer. The work he did demanded it.”
“So there was no mention of his notebook being found with him? And I found this odd.”
“True. In my grief
I didn’t think of this at first.”
“So do you know where it is?”
“No. Maybe the person who killed him took it.”
“That was my thought. I’m certain it was securely protected. But still I’m curious what happened to it. It doesn’t seem WANN was too concerned. Unless they were involved and did recover it. Do you know if he kept anything on there he was trying to keep from them?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Did he have a home computer he worked on?”
“No. He did all his work on the computer WANN provided.”
“Could he have saved files on some cloud storage area or external device they weren’t aware of.”
“I doubt it. The computers were locked down to prevent this, I believe he mentioned once or twice.”
“Do you own a computer he could have used?”
There was a slight hesitation.
“Other than my iPad, no. I’m not a computer geek like he was. Only email and browsing the Web to shop.”
I’d file this away under something I’d need to look into further. Not having a home computer was not normal in this day and age.
“Maybe I can find out from WANN what happened. Someone on the inside might be able to answer the question.”
“Hopefully. They are not forthcoming when querying data. I believe they hope it all becomes yesterday’s news.”
“I can be persuasive and sneaky when needed. The mark of a good PI.”
“I’m so glad you are making progress. I was worried at first when you didn’t call me back. So I’m glad I stuck with you. That other PI I talked with sounded creepy.”
“Who else did you talk to?”
“Well, when I didn’t hear back when I first gave you the deposit, I started looking for someone else. I contacted a King Detective Agency. Talked with an Adam King.”
“Crap!” I said.
“You know him?”
“Oh yes. He is pretty slimy. We’ve had it out once when he tried to steal my client. Not one of my favorite people.”
“He was kind of creepy when I met him. He’s been bugging me ever since, telling me what a slacker you are. I don’t like it when someone denigrates someone in an obvious attempt to get business. I keep telling him I’m not interested, but he won’t give up. I have been ignoring his calls as best as I can.”