by Jon F. Merz
My phone rang. I picked it up and tried to chew around the bulge in my mouth. "Yeah?"
"Jake?"
"Mr. Darmov?"
"You're all right?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I am fine."
"You got out of there pretty fast today, Mr. Darmov."
"Yes. I did."
I frowned. "I could have used some help there, Mr. Darmov."
"I'm sorry I had to leave you to fend for yourself, Jake."
I'll bet.
"But I had every faith you'd be able to take care of yourself."
"Glad I rate so high on your employee confidence scale."
"You're upset."
"I'm upset."
"I understand. Unfortunately, I've got to look out for my own personal safety first and foremost. With Gregor down, I had to assume the worst: that they were after me."
"Maybe they were."
"It seems that way, don't you think?"
"I don't know what to think anymore."
"What's bothering you?"
"You mean aside from having a sore back, smelling like rat feces and urine and probably having a million splinters in my lower body?" I reached for the bottle again and poured some more in the glass. "Not much, I guess."
Darmov stayed quiet for a minute. "If it's any consolation about this evening, I had to drive that limousine myself."
I almost laughed. "You're kidding, right?"
"I'm not kidding."
"That doesn't make me feel any better. Not one damned bit. You left me out there with a fucking gun battle going on."
"I'll make it up to you, Jake."
"How you planning to do that?"
"I'll up your commission rate immediately."
"Gee, thanks."
"It's not enough?"
"Mr. Darmov, do you know what forty percent of zero is?"
"Yes."
"Do I have to explain it any further then?"
"Did we lose him?"
"He wasn't killed, thank god. Someone knocked him out."
"So, he's still looking to buy?"
"Not a chance. He got spooked. Said something along the lines of if this is what it means getting involved in, he wants no part of it."
"That's too bad."
Funny he didn't seem so broken up about it. I sighed. "Mr. Darmov, remember when I asked you about competition?"
"Yes."
"You think maybe it's time you told me a little bit more about your rivals?"
"It's not necessary, Jake."
"Forgive me, Mr. Darmov, but I've been shot at twice over the last three days. I don't much care for bullets aimed in my general direction. Call me ornery on that end, but I want to know who the hell might be shooting at me. They haven't nailed me yet, but they might get lucky soon. Unless we get to them first."
"Anyone who could mount any resistance to my organization has already been taken care of."
"You killed them all?"
"Not all. Some I simply bought off. Persuaded them to move to another city."
"Gracious of you."
"Yes, it was."
"What about Melinda Patterson?"
"She was a nothing, Jake. A nobody. Just some ill-tempered woman who'd stuck her nose into the wrong career field."
"You told me she wanted a piece of the action."
"She didn't want a piece of it."
"You told me she did."
"She wanted the whole action, Jake. She wanted to take it all over. And if that meant stomping me out to get her way, that's exactly what she would have done."
"Doesn't much seem like the kind of woman who'd have that personality."
"You're referring to her upbringing? Her family?"
"Might be."
"Don't let that fool you. I did quite a bit of research into her past. Did you know the Patterson family has had inroads to most of the major criminal organizations within the past fifty years?"
"No."
"It's true. Everything from drugs and pornography to arms dealings."
"I find that hard to believe."
"Trust me on this."
"You're telling me that an old blue blood Boston family, up to their snotty eyeballs in money, is actually involved in criminal enterprises?"
"Exactly."
"I'm going to need some convincing."
"Of course," said Darmov, "it's not as though they've left fingerprints all over the place. It would be very difficult for the police to prove any of this in a court of law."
"We're not in a court of law, Mr. Darmov."
"Indeed, we're not. That's why it's easier to use the information."
"How are they involved exactly?"
"When the war ended in Europe, Edward Patterson set himself up as a principle supplier of foodstuffs to Eastern Europe. He did so at a time when it was very unfashionable to be seen as a supplier to countries potentially being overtaken by Communism. But he also knew there was a niche there and he exploited that. Realizing some success from his endeavors, he used his strategies to do so in other parts of the world. First in Malaysia and later on in Vietnam. He dealt with the governments your government would not."
Jim Beam winked at me from my desktop. I poured another slug and shot it down.
Darmov continued talking in my ear. "Eventually, it became easy enough to begin trading in other goods, rather than just foodstuffs. Patterson engaged in illegal black market items, and then heavily in narcotics beginning in the seventies."
"Incredible."
"The method, of course, was to disguise all the business and hand off the untouchable parts to the organized crime syndicates here in the states. That way, they'd be able to separate themselves from the process."
"And maintain their upstanding position in society."
"Yes."
"You've got some good information."
"Well, don't forget, I was with Soviet Intelligence for a while."
"You never told me that."
"I'm telling you now."
"What reason would Soviet Intelligence have for wanting to know about the Patterson family?"
"Patterson wasn't just involved in narcotics and arms deals. He dealt in information as well."
"You're telling me he was a traitor, too?"
"To his mind, he was never a traitor. He was a businessman. Selling secrets was just another commodity for him."
"Don't even try to put that bullshit over on me. He committed treason."
"I'm not arguing with you, Jake. He sold out your country numerous times."
I made a mental note to pay Patterson a visit. I don't like traitors very much.
Darmov must have read my mind. "He's already dead, Jake."
Damn. "he is?"
"He died two years ago."
"Okay, so that begs the question who's running the show now?"
"He had some children. Melinda was one of them. She was younger than the others but seemed to have a keen sense of business about her."
"She was going to take over the business?"
"I believe that was her goal, yes. First, she would have assumed command of the family's interests and then later she would have expanded into other areas. Including my niche here in the city. You can see why I had her removed from the picture."
Jim Beam was now flipping the middle finger. I flipped it back and leaned into the phone, aware that my elbow was now supporting most of my weight. The top of my desk looked very comfortable.
"Jake?"
"Yeah. I'm here." I sighed. "So, if Melinda Patterson was going to take over the family, why didn't she wait to solidify her other interests first before going after you?"
"Perhaps she did. I don't know."
"You've got a lot of recent information about the family, though. I'd think your intelligence would be dated by now."
"Oh, it most certainly was. I had to resort to other collection methods."
"Like what?"
"I married one of the Patterson daughters."
&n
bsp; I gulped. "Which one."
"The oldest. Vanessa."
On my desk, Jim Beam fell overÉ
Élaughing his ass off at me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I never studied acting.
But the fact was I deserved a damned Oscar for my performance upon hearing Darmov tell me that. I swallowed a quick shot of Jim Beam and cleared my throat.
"Been married to her long?"
"Some years now."
"And so you've really figured out how that family works, is that it?"
"Yes."
I frowned. "It doesn't bother you that you killed your sister-in-law?"
"Should it?"
"Only if family or blood means anything to you."
Darmov actually laughed. "Jake, you seem to think I married Vanessa Patterson because I was in love with her."
"Weren't you?"
"Not at all. I haven't even slept with the woman in a number of years."
That made sense, considering Vanessa's ravenous sexual appetite. "You just did it to get information."
"Yes."
"And Melinda?"
"Became an unfortunate casualty of business."
"Unfortunate?"
"Maybe not so unfortunate. She shouldn't have poked her nose into my affairs."
"How'd you explain her death to her sister?"
"I didn't. There seemed no need. The police recovered the body in Cleveland Circle, convinced it was done by drug dealers."
"Did Vanessa know anything about what Melinda was up to?"
"I'd imagine she must have. Although, Vanessa tends to turn something of a blind eye to a lot of the activities that used to go on."
"You mean she doesn't want to accept the idea that her family was involved in criminal activities?"
"I think that's it. Yes."
"But she's married to you."
Darmov chuckled again. "Jake, let me explain something about women to you."
"Please do. I can apparently use all the help I can get."
"If you wine and dine a woman and promise her the world and are then able to fulfill that promise, there is little that they will not tolerate."
"Really." I knew some women who would have taken that sentiment and drop-kicked it right up Darmov's ass. I didn't think now was the time to tell him that, though.
"Vanessa," he continued, "is one of those women who believes only in her money and jewels. She had plenty when I came along. Now she has even more. She is quiet, content, and not interested in much else."
Apparently, my experiences with Vanessa were decidedly different from Darmov's. First of all, Vanessa liked to be noisy in the sack. She moaned beautifully.
Second, I knew she was far from content. Money didn't buy everything, and it seemed pretty obvious to me that Vanessa was about as un-content as you could possibly be.
Third, I knew she was definitely interested in what was going on. After all, she'd had the foresight to hire a very cool private investigator to look into the death of her sister.
Although, I was slightly concerned that she might have been holding back on me. There was a chance, like Darmov said, that she didn't know what was going on. But Vanessa hadn't seemed particularly dumb to me. If she knew about Darmov and she had an inkling about what Melinda had been up to, she might not have far to go before she was able to bridge them together.
Still, she'd been careful so far. Rather than accuse Darmov of killing Melinda Ð something that might have gotten her a date with two slugs Ð she'd come to me instead.
"How'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Meet Vanessa. I mean, it wasn't like you could just go up to her and propose, could you?"
"Meeting her was something of happenstance."
"Not deliberate?"
"Oh it was deliberate on my end, but I wasn't sure how to set it up. Destiny intervened, however, and we met at a charity function."
"One of the child charities?'
"Yes. Vanessa was a primary contributor to the event and she introduced herself to me."
"That was fortuitous."
"Absolutely," said Darmov. "We had dinner, a few dates, and from there, it seemed fairly simple to propose."
"How long did you date before you were married?"
"Only about three months."
"Quick."
"Vanessa was, at that point, where most women begin hearing the inevitable stomping tick of their biological clocks. She wanted to get married. I simply provided the opportunity to do so."
I sighed. "Okay, so let me get this straight: you move your operation into Boston and what Ð research who your competition might be?"
"No. I knew about the Patterson family from my years in Soviet Intelligence. I also knew that moving into the Boston area would most likely produce some friction. After Mr. Patterson died, I though the family might collapse, at least in terms of their criminal enterprises."
"But they didn't."
"No. Melinda assumed command. I didn't have any recent information about her. Insinuating myself into the family seemed a good way to bring about its downfall."
"What about now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, with Melinda gone, who's running the family's operations?"
"No one."
"Are you planning to step in and take command?"
"Me? Good heavens, no. I've got far too much to do with my own piece of the pie. I don't want any more."
That seemed odd. "When did Melinda realize what you were up to?"
"It took her a while, actually. Only after she met Don Woolery did she piece anything together."
"How did she and Woolery meet?"
"As far as I know, they met at that ridiculous bar on Newbury Street. Melinda had something of a drinking problem. She also liked quick convenient sexual dalliances. Woolery was convenient on several fronts."
"And he worked for you."
"Yes."
"So Melinda finds out about you. How come she didn't tell Vanessa?"
"Maybe there was no time. I don't know, really."
"And you killed her."
"I wasn't a completely ruthless, Jake. I offered her a share in my business. She refused. Turns out she'd inherited her father's stubborn streak. It was her undoing."
"After you killed her, what Ð you went home?"
"Yes."
"I admire your ability to separate the fact that you killed your sister-in-law in cold blood from a good night's sleep."
"Don't be rude, Jake. I learned how to kill a long time ago, courtesy of my government."
"Done a lot of it, have you?"
"Do you remember that rash of terrorist attacks back in the early eighties?"
"Sure."
"I was part of Spetznaz prior to my intelligence work. I was assigned to a special Alpha team. Are you familiar with them?"
"Vaguely."
"Alpha Teams were the spearhead of Spetznaz. When we invaded Afghanistan in 1979, it was an Alpha Team that parachuted into Kabul and assassinated the government officials there."
"You on that mission?"
"No. But a few years later, a militant splinter group off of the Islamic Jihad kidnapped and tortured several members of the Soviet embassy in Beirut."
"So what happened?"
"My team went in."
"You found the terrorists?'
"We didn't bother with them. We went straight to their families. Understand? We started mailing back pieces of their families to the terrorists. Our people were returned. Some dead, some not. But no terrorist outside of Russia has ever dared commit an act against us again."
I paused. "Pieces?'
"Pieces, Jake. We cut them up and mailed them back. I'll tell you something: if you are able to do that, my friend, then it is not so difficult to kill your sister-in-law and then go home to your wife and sleep."
"I guess not."
"Shocked?"
Shocked wasn't the word for it. Everything about this case seemed ups
ide down. Nothing made much sense anymore. If Darmov dropped any more revelations like he'd been doing, I was going to need years of therapy.
Or detoxification.
I tried to clear my thoughts. "All right. So, tell me this: where do we go from here?"
"Do you still have the other prospect?"
Thompson. He wanted to use Thompson. I frowned. "I'm not sure. I think so. I'll have to check."
"Jake, don't go to pieces on me just because of what happened earlier, all right?"
"Mr. Darmov, it's kind of tough not needing some time after you've been in a gun battle."
"You've seen combat before."
"Yeah, but I haven't seen this much action in years. Twice in three days is a bit much for anyone."
"Not me."
"You're my role model." I sighed. "I'll call Thompson. Can you still deliver a child if he wants it?"
"My networks weren't compromised. I only lost Gregor."
"You know we haven't even discussed how this could have happened yet."
"I'm working on that from this end, Jake. There must have been a leak somewhere."
"On your end."
"Of course. I'm not suggesting it was due to your involvement. After all, you almost died as well."
"Almost. Yeah."
"I assure you everything will be okay. Once I unleash Viktor on the perpetrators, there will be nothing to do but carry on with our business."
Great. Viktor the killing machine unleashed. Why did that not make me feel any better. "All right."
"Keep your chin up, Jake. It's going to be fine."
He hung up and I stared at the phone. I slowly slid the receiver back into the base and took a deep breath.
The woman who had hired me to find the killers of her sister was married to the killer.
Wonderful.
I started to reach for the phone Ð McCloskey would love this Ð but then stopped. McCloskey wasn't in such a good mood right now.
I sniffed the air.
I still stank.
I still ached.
My head hurt.
My buzz was gone.
Someone wanted me dead.
I was involved in a criminal conspiracy to kidnap children and sell them to the highest bidder.
I was sleeping with my client.
My best friend was pissed at me.
My chair was banged up.
My legs didn't work.
I looked up at Rodney Dangerfield's picture on the wall. Usually, it made me grin, thinking about all the hysterical lines he'd come up with in his time.