by Ed Dee
"You kidding?" he said. "The crispier the better, but we can't count on it."
"I get the feeling you're on Borodenko's side all of a sudden."
"Right now, maybe I am. Everything I did to find Kate amounted to shit. Then bang, she's here. I have no idea why he'd let her go."
Helpless was the worst feeling for guys like Eddie Dunne. He stood against a wall in a long corridor that led to other long corridors, holding a torn and bloody green flannel shirt in his hand. Babsie wanted to bag it for evidence, but she let Eddie hold on to it.
Babsie said, "Don't forget Borodenko was behind all this grief in the first place."
"I'm not so sure."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Eddie fought to keep his focus, but his world spun in slow motion, as if all energy had drained out of him. The spaces between objects in the corridor seemed random and changing. He could hear Kate calling him, her voice a soft reverberation, like a whispered echo, but so real, the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He knew this was in his head. She was in the room down the hall. If he walked twenty steps down the corridor, he could see her, tubes crisscrossed over her face, machines beeping, nurses prepping her for surgery. She was fine. A nurse came out of the room, walking toward them.
"Five minutes," the nurse said, holding up her spread hand. 'Try not to excite her."
His beautiful daughter had aged terribly in twelve days. She looked like her mother in those last mournful moments of her life. Her eyes, so dark underneath, appeared sunken in bruised half-moons. Eddie put his hand on hers, trying not to disturb any of the attached lines. She squeezed his hand immediately; then she squirmed, trying to get her arms up in the air. She was trying to tell him something. But her eyes spoke for her, wide and unblinking, staring directly into his face.
"I love you," he said, fighting for his calmest expression, wanting to transfer hope, to let her draw a sense of serenity from him. "It's all over. We'll have you home soon. Grace is fine, can't wait to see you. We're all fine. Kevin is fine. Everybody is fine." He talked in a rush, knowing that words were too weak to climb the wall of her anguish. Saying them was the only thing.
Babsie held up a picture of Zina.
"Was this the woman who kidnapped you?" she said. "Just nod if you can, Kate."
"Not now, Babsie," Eddie said, but Kate was nodding furiously.
"It was this woman?" Babsie said, confirming her answer.
Kate went on nodding and trying to raise her left hand. She got it up a few inches and held her fingers in the V sign.
"Two?" Babsie said. "Two people?" She could see in Kate's frustration that there was more. But with tubes down her throat and her mouth covered by a square patch of blue material to secure the tubes in place, she couldn't speak. Enough, Eddie thought. She's too fragile.
"Let's do this later," Eddie said.
"She's stronger than you think," Babsie said, overruling him as she'd done for eleven days. "Two women?" Babsie asked as it suddenly came to her. "Two women." Kate nodded. Two women.
She kept reaching for Babsie's notebook. Babsie put the pen in her left hand. She held Kate's arm as the young woman scrawled letters over the page sideways. Four shaky letters, but unmistakably the word ship.
"A ship?" Babsie said. "They kept you on a ship."
Their five minutes ended in three; Eddie wanted the questions over with. Kate's heart rate set off alarms. "Let her calm down," he said. He and Babsie went back to the hallway. The hospital PA system reeled off a series of names: doctors summoned here and there. He recognized none of the names from his days and nights in this hospital. Times change, he thought. Your past evaporates in change.
"I thought your pal Boland had the Coast Guard looking at Borodenko's freighters," Babsie said.
"Doesn't matter now."
Babsie grunted something clearly sarcastic, then walked away, talking on her cell phone, ignoring the sign that prohibited that practice. A wheelchair was ordered for the cardiac unit; a priest was summoned to the OR.
Doctors had assured Eddie that barring unseen complications, she'd be fine. Everyone is fine. The next twenty-four hours are critical-another old hospital saw. We all resort to cliches at a time like this. How about closure? he thought. Why doesn't this feel like closure?
"Believe it or not," Babsie said, snapping her phone closed, "Martha went to pick up Grace from school. You might have to rethink some of your opinions of that woman. She's a tough old bird."
"The cops still with her?"
"Of course. Martha just thought a family member might reassure Grace. It was a nice idea, Eddie."
"How's Kev?"
"Critical, but stable. He knows about Kate, and that perked him up. Probably gonna downgrade him tomorrow."
"The next twenty-four hours are critical."
"Always are," Babsie said, searching his face for whatever that meant.
"We're never going to feel safe until we get Zina," he said.
"When Kate gets a little stronger, she'll be able to tell us more. You're right, though. We don't want to push her right now. Let's hold off until she can handle it. Until then, we'll put a couple of cops here, around the clock. I'll get Yonkers to supply a body."
"Sophie Borodenko knows where Zina is hiding," Eddie said.
"Like she's gonna implicate herself and tell us? Yuri's calling in all his lawyers now. If she's not already on a plane to Moscow."
"Let's go over there."
"Borodenko's house? He has no reason even to let us in the door."
"He'll let us in. I'll tell him who killed Sophie's mother."
"Nunez and Vestri," Babsie said.
"They pulled the trigger. I know who killed her."
Chapter 43
Friday
4:00 P.M.
"I wonder how much bootleg gas it took to start this bonfire," Babsie said.
Thick black smoke drifted up through the upper scaffolding of the Cyclone roller coaster. Police diverted traffic on Surf Avenue into one lane, steering them around fire hoses strung through an empty lot and down to the boardwalk. Eddie slowed down to see the blaze that fully engulfed the two-story frame building on West Nineteenth that housed Coney Custards. The entire building was too far gone, swallowed up in flames. Firefighters stood back and dumped water on it, trying to protect the surrounding buildings.
"Yuri destroying the evidence," Eddie said.
"That's why he's not going to let you near his wife," Babsie said. "He'd burn down half of Brooklyn to protect her."
The front door of Yuri Borodenko's home had the same ornate carvings as the door of the Mazurka. Eddie pressed a button and the chimes rang out a few notes of a song he didn't recognize. Before he could ring again, a voice came over an intercom. Eddie pressed another button and gave their names. He said he needed to speak with Mrs. Borodenko. He had important information about her parents. They waited over five minutes, then an Asian man in a white Nehru jacket invited them in. A set of Gucci bags was stacked just inside the door.
"Women's luggage," Babsie said.
They were led into a room lined with books. The books were arranged too neatly to have been read by anyone. Borodenko came in immediately through another door. He was much shorter than Eddie had thought, but he'd only seen him seated. The Russian introduced himself. Not a bodyguard in sight. There had to be video security throughout the house; thugs close by, ready to pounce. Babsie sat on a red leather sofa. Eddie refused a seat, wandering around instead, looking for the portal with the hidden rifle pointed at him.
"You have information for me," Borodenko said, getting right to the point.
"First, I want to thank you for finding my daughter."
"Your daughter?" he said, looking surprised. "Your daughter is in the hospital, am I correct? I heard on the television. Doing well, I hope."
"A little rough right now, but it looks good."
"I'm happy for that, Mr. Dunne. But don't thank me. I had nothing to do with your daughter's r
eturn. From what I've heard, you worked tirelessly to find her, as I would in your position. I cannot imagine what lengths I would go to in order to save my wife or child. The most extreme, I can assure you."
"I'm not here to hurt Sophie, if that's what you're thinking. Or to rehash these past twelve days."
"Very noble of you. I'll pass your thoughts on to her."
"I need to talk to Sophie in person," Eddie said.
"That's not possible. You'll just have to forgive my wife's absence. Rest assured I will relay your message."
"Then ask her where I can find Zina Rabinovich."
"Sophie doesn't have that information."
The room was far less gaudy than Eddie had expected. It could have been the library of an Ivy League dean. A huge red-and-black Oriental rug centered the room. Dark wood all around. The paintings on the walls appeared to be the work of Russian artists. Eddie recognized an oil by Konstantin Lomykin, a favorite of Lukin. Snow-covered roofs in Odessa, the scene as desolate and sad as a hollow in Appalachia.
"I know who Sophie is," Eddie said. "I know all about her."
"And just what do you know about my wife?"
"I was the detective handling her parents' murders."
"I've read your reports."
"Then you haven't read the truth."
Borodenko was less imposing than Eddie remembered. He'd gotten paunchier, and balder. The cardigan sweater, though a soft expensive wool, gave him a frumpy look. His face showed the ravages of the long trip from Moscow and a marriage to a troubled woman half his age.
"Being that you know the tragedy of Sophie's parents," Borodenko said, "it surprises me that you would embarrass her with those photographs."
"We had a potential tragedy going here ourselves," Babsie said.
"I needed a way to force you home," Eddie said.
"Those photographs did not get me home, sir. My travel arrangements were made days earlier."
"Do you want to know why Sophie's mother died?" Eddie said.
Borodenko picked up a silver humidor from the table. He opened it and offered its contents to both of them. Eddie expected cigars, but it was filled with cigarettes-unfiltered cigarettes in a cream-colored paper. Borodenko lit one and walked to the window. The ocean looked as calm as a lake, not a ripple of white anywhere except at the very edge of the shore.
"Sophie's parents were killed during the act of robbery," Borodenko said.
"Nunez and Vestri, the two men who committed that act, went there with specific orders to kill them."
"Give me one reason why I should accept your version of the truth."
"You don't have to accept it, because I'll only tell her what happened," Eddie said. "Are those her bags near the door?"
"Sophie is going away for a short time. She has had a rough period recently and needs rest and medical attention."
"She's well enough to travel?" Eddie said.
"Yuri," Sophie called out.
Yuri Borodenko crossed the room and put his arms around the slender woman. Sophie was wearing a dark business suit, but she looked to be still in the process of getting dressed-no jewelry, no makeup, her hair still wet from the shower. Borodenko spoke softly to her in Russian, obviously imploring her to go back to her room.
"My wife is not prepared for this, Mr. Dunne. She is being treated for severe depression and is taking medication."
"No, Yuri, please," she said, pushing him away. "I want to say how sorry I am for the trouble I have caused. It's all my fault, all this trouble. All of it."
She was glassy-eyed and slurring her words slightly.
Yuri said, "My wife is a victim, Mr. Dunne. She has listened to an adviser who preyed upon her like a vulture."
"Zina only wanted to help," Sophie said. "First, let me explain everything to you about Zina."
"You have nothing to explain," Borodenko said sharply; then he spoke to her again in Russian. When he was finished, he said in English, "We are not doing this. This woman is a detective sitting here. We are going to postpone this discussion until I have time to have a lawyer present."
"Nothing any of us says will leave this room," Eddie said. "You have my word."
"I want to speak," Sophie said, pointing to Eddie. "I don't care of the consequence."
Even mob guys can be whipped, Babsie thought. Yuri doing everything but licking her shoes. And she didn't like the way Eddie was letting Sophie work him. Both males circling around her in some middle-aged dance of seduction. Babsie didn't want to hear the blonde's story, or Eddie's latest tale. She'd had enough sad stories in her life. But what pissed her off most was the fact that Eddie had the balls to commit her to legal silence.
"After my parents were killed," Sophie said, "my grandparents took me to Russia with only one small suitcase. They were frightened and only trying to protect me, but I had no pictures, no mementos, nothing of my parents. After I married Yuri and came here, I tried to find out things about them, some old friends with stories or someone with pictures, but no one will help. Yuri won't help because he says it will upset me."
"I hired Zina to help you."
"You hired Zina to guard me, but she did help. But Zina was afraid of Yuri, so I couldn't tell him what we were doing."
"You could have told me," Yuri said.
"Zina worked like crazy," Sophie said. "She found newspapers with pictures, and old friends who knew my parents. We met them in restaurants or Zina's apartment. Like a storybook, everything unfolded for me. Every week new people or mementos, always some memento of my parents' life. That's how I found out about you, and Pavlo going to the boat with my mother."
"Why kidnap my daughter?" Eddie asked.
"Mistake," Sophie said.
"My wife was not part of that," Yuri said. "These are thirdhand rumors she speaks of. She had no knowledge."
"She was driving the BMW," Eddie said.
"I have caused problems," Sophie said.
"We call them felonies," Babsie said.
"This interview is over," Borodenko said, grabbing his wife by the arm. She was stronger than she looked, and, combined with the power of tears, she made Yuri release her.
Sophie said, "Zina went into your house only to get mementos for me."
"What mementos?" Eddie said.
"She found nothing."
"She found Kate," Babsie said.
"She didn't know anyone was at home. Everything was bad after that, it happened so fast. Zina said Yuri would kill her so nothing mattered. I was afraid of what she was doing next."
"You could have stopped it anytime," Babsie said.
Tears ran down Sophie's face. "I wanted to. I wanted Yuri home so bad, but I couldn't tell him what had been done. Zina became crazier, saying she loved me."
Yuri held his wife.
"Enough," he said. "We'll set an interview at a later time."
"Just tell us where to find Zina," Babsie said.
"Not to hurt her," Sophie said.
"I think we've said enough," Borodenko said. "Sophie has a flight to catch. If you have matters concerning us, take them up with our lawyer. We will cooperate fully."
"You sent Sergei all the way to Italy for mementos?" Babsie asked.
"Am I wrong for wanting to know answers?" Sophie said. "Would you leave such questions unanswered?"
"What questions?"
"My father, Marvin Rosenfeld, had a defect," she said. "Zina found his first wife. She was surprised of my birth, due to doctor saying my father had medical defect. He was not able to have children." Sophie shrugged, as if any further medical explanation was beyond her.
"It was your DNA that Zina sent to Celltech," Babsie said. "You thought Paulie Caruso was your father."
"None of this matters," Borodenko said. "Zina Rabinovich is the criminal here. She is the one who sent Sergei to Italy. I fired her immediately when I heard. This woman clouded Sophie's judgment with alcohol and drugs. My wife had no idea Mr. Caruso would be murdered."
"I knew of Pavlo's tim
e with my mother," Sophie said.
"Many people knew of them together. Zina said we'll have a medical test for proof. A little teeny bit of blood, she told Sergei, was all that was needed."
"Mission accomplished," Babsie said.
"Then Pavlo told Sergei of you and my mother," Sophie said.
"Your mother was killed because of me," Eddie said.
"I don't believe this," Sophie said.
"It's true," he said. "I met your mother my first week in Brooklyn."
"When was this happening?" Sophie said.
"Latter part of 1974."
"A love affair?" Sophie said.
"For a few months. Then she broke it off, never gave me a reason. Later, I heard she got married. I'd see her shopping on Brighton Beach Avenue, but she didn't know me. She'd look away."
"Pavlo said about the boat."
"I didn't speak to Svetlana again for years. In the early eighties, Paul Caruso brought her to a party we had on the new boat. He introduced her to me as Lana, the love of his life. 'Nice to meet you,' she said. And it went like that, until one night we were alone together."
Babsie Panko turned away and walked to the window. It was her turn to shake her head and stare out at the ocean. Yuri Borodenko nodded, beginning to understand. Eddie knew Yuri could see the whole robbery plan unfolding in his mind, the Caruso brothers at the helm. Sophie flopped down on the red sofa, sitting in the spot Babsie had vacated.
"Paulie was obsessed with your mother," Eddie said. "I knew that when he found out about us, there would be hell to pay. But I never thought he'd do this. I still can't believe he let them kill her. Not in a million years."
"From jealousy?" Sophie said.
"From a sick, vindictive mind," Eddie said. "I should have seen it coming."
"She wouldn't blame you," Sophie said. "I know what her heart was like and I saw your gentleness and kindness. I saw that when I watched you with your little one. Your granddaughter. I knew you couldn't have hurt my mother."
"You've said enough, Sophie," Borodenko said.
"Such a sad, beautiful love story," Sophie said.
"Beautiful?" Babsie said.
"Tell me something about her," Sophie said. "Please. Give me one memory of my mother. One special thing, please."