Critical Play (Michael Cailen Book 3)

by Mel LeBrun

  “Yeah. I think you're right.”

  “Across the hall from Grekov's girlfriend is an elderly woman. Irina Sokolov. Her husband died a few months ago. She can't pay her rent and is facing eviction.”

  “Your point?”

  “We could bribe her to let us stay in her apartment until Grekov arrives.”

  It seemed a logical solution. Michael wondered why he couldn't have thought of that himself.

  “I guess that could work,” Michael agreed.

  “You're very distracted, Michael. Are you sure you're up for this?”

  “I'm fine.”

  “What's going on?”

  Michael shifted in his seat. “Something is wrong. They wouldn't ignore me like this.”

  “You think it has to do with your family?”

  Michael closed his eyes, not wanting to go there with his thoughts. “I don't know. I hope not.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Michael was so desperate to talk to Jessica he contemplated giving David Jeff's address so he could send someone to check on them. But that would expose their connection to Jeff and open up a whole other world of trouble.

  “No,” Michael said. “There's nothing you can do.”

  “Well, let me know if that changes.”

  “I may take you up on that.”

  “I'd be pleased if you did. In the meantime, we should wait for Grekov's girlfriend to leave before we try to approach her neighbor.”

  “What if her neighbor doesn't want to cooperate?” Michael asked.

  David gave him a look as though he shouldn't have needed to ask. “Michael, you know the answer to that.”

  Michael gave him a look back. “Is there some way to handle it that doesn't involve terrorizing an elderly widow?”

  “Again, Michael, I think you know the answer to that.”

  Michael shook his head. If the widow wouldn't cooperate, they would have no choice but to force their way in. They wouldn't be able to take the risk of her alerting Grekov's girlfriend. The idea of traumatizing an elderly widow was extremely distasteful to him. “It's not right.”

  “For someone in your line of work, you're a real softie,” David remarked.

  “This isn't my line of work anymore, remember?” Michael answered while staring out the window.

  “Right. Of course.”

  MICHAEL TRIED again to call home while they waited for Grekov's mistress to leave. He was becoming greatly distressed over not being able to reach anyone. As he was walking back to the car though his phone rang. It was Gatti.

  “Where have you been?” Michael scolded him. “I've been trying to reach you for hours!”

  “We have an active nuclear threat, Michael. What do you think I do over here?”

  Michael quickly checked his temper. “I'm sorry. I'm just anxious for news on Jinx and to talk to Jessica.”

  “I know,” Gatti sympathized. “We found Jinx earlier today. She's in rough shape emotionally, but physically she's doing great considering what she's been through.”

  “What did they do to her?”

  “She hasn't said much. The doctors are working with her.”

  “Did she tell them anything?”

  Gatti knew where Michael was headed and feared he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

  “Don't worry, we have it under control.”

  “Did she tell them anything?” Michael repeated, louder than before.

  Gatti had no choice but to answer him. He tried to soften the blow. “Michael, they tortured her pretty badly. It was horrific.”

  Michael's heart pounded like a sledgehammer in his chest. “Oh God.” Michael paced. “Tim, did she tell them?”

  Yes, Michael. She did,” Gatti finally answered. “But everyone is fine.”

  Michael was ready to come out of his skin. “How are they fine? Where are they?”

  “They've left Jeff's and they're on the move. When I spoke to them last, they were driving toward Alaska. Jessica and Ana are just fine. Dmitri and his men are keeping them safe.”

  Michael's heart was pounding so hard he could hardly feel anything else. “I want to talk to her.”

  “I'm afraid that won't be possible. Cell coverage out there is sparse. They'll be calling in with updates when they have service, but we can't reach them now.”

  Michael was not buying it. Something about the whole scenario didn't sit right with him. “I'm keeping this number. Next time they call in, you forward her call to me,” he demanded. “You understand?”

  “Michael, they're fine. They're in good hands with Dmitri,” Gatti tried to allay his fears.

  “I'm not asking.”

  Gatti was running out of options. The only way to pacify Michael was to agree.

  “OK, Michael. But really, they're fine.”

  “I'm sure they are,” Michael said though he was not even remotely convinced.

  Feeling like Gatti was holding out on him, Michael hung up the phone without even saying goodbye. He paced a few more minutes before rejoining David in the car.

  “You get worse with every phone call,” David observed.

  Michael was so angry he couldn't even talk about it. “Let's just get this done,” Michael said. “Is she leaving anytime soon?”

  “She just texted her friend. They're going shopping. She should be leaving any minute.”

  “Good.”

  David stared at Michael's heel bouncing rapidly on the floor of the car. It was a bad sign. He wondered if Michael was up to the task but didn't dare ask him. They watched as Grekov's girlfriend slid into her brand new Mercedes and drove off to meet her friend.

  “Time to move,” David said. “How is your Russian?”

  “My Russian is as good as it will ever be,” Michael answered in Russian.

  David smiled. “I think you just volunteered as spokesman.”

  GATTI SAT back in his chair fully convinced that if there was a Hell, he was going to it. He wondered how long it would be before Michael knew the truth. There was no doubt he suspected something was wrong. What would he do when he figured it out? Would he ever forgive him? Gatti began to second-guess his decision, thinking maybe he should have just been honest with him. But that would have brought its own consequences, and Gatti eventually determined they would have been much worse. There was no good way to handle the situation. There would be hell to pay no matter what he did.

  As he silently cursed himself, his secretary's voice came across the intercom. “Sir, your flight is ready.”

  “Thank you,” Gatti replied. “After I land I'll need you to hold my calls. I'll let you know when I'm free again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gatti wearily ran his hand down his face and then stood. Grabbing his briefcase, he left his office.

  Chapter 25

  David accompanied Michael to the Russian widow's apartment. Michael knocked on the door and rehearsed again what he would say as he waited for her to come to the door. The old woman cautiously opened the door a crack.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Hello, Mrs. Sokolov. My name is Pavel,” Michael said. “My friend and I were hoping we could speak with you for a moment.”

  “Speak to me about what?” she asked.

  “We know of your difficult situation and would like to offer you a solution to your financial problems.”

  “What financial problems?”

  “I understand your husband has died and you are facing eviction,” Michael said bluntly.

  The woman seemed disturbed that these two strangers at her door knew so much about her situation. She started to close the door. “I think you have the wrong house.”

  Michael held the door open. “At least hear my offer.”

  “What do you want?” she asked again knowing whatever help they were offering came with a price.”

  “A quiet place for me and my friends to stay for a few days. In exchange, I will pay you ten thousand euros.”

  “Ten thousand
euros?” she repeated in disbelief.

  “Yes. Provided you tell no one of our stay.”

  The woman was greatly tempted. That kind of money would pay her rent for the next year and beyond, thus allowing her to remain in the home she had shared with her husband for the past twenty years. It certainly wouldn't be a permanent solution, but it would postpone the inevitable for a bit longer.

  “Why so much money?” she asked. “And why me?”

  “We need to stay in this area and you seemed like you could use the money.”

  The woman had many more questions about why they needed to stay in the area and how they knew of her situation, but the money was more appealing than satisfying her curiosity. She knew enough to understand that along with the money would come secrecy. If she asked too many questions, she could lose her chance of getting the money.

  “You pay me first,” she said.

  Michael smiled. He turned to David who handed him an envelope stuffed with the money. He passed it to the woman through the crack in the door.

  “I will count,” she said. She then shut the door leaving them standing in the hallway.

  David looked at Michael, not liking the fact that they couldn't see what the woman was doing.

  Michael read his mind. “Just relax. She's counting the money.”

  “At least that's what she said she's doing.”

  “I didn't tell her anything she could use against us.”

  David grew impatient as the minutes passed. “What's taking so long?”

  Michael sighed. “She's old and she's counting ten thousand euros, probably twice.”

  David was ready to break down the door. If Michael hadn't been there, he just might have.

  Finally the door opened again. “OK,” she said. “You can come in.”

  Michael thanked her. “We have two more friends who will be coming,” he informed her as they stepped inside.

  “Fine,” she said. “Make sure they bring food. You're not eating all of mine.”

  Michael smiled as he restrained a laugh at the woman's feistiness. “Of course,” he agreed. “Is there anything you need from the store? I will tell them to bring it.”

  The woman eyed him suspiciously wondering if it was a trick. “I need eggs.”

  “Is that all?” Michael asked.

  She nodded.

  Michael turned to David and instructed him in Arabic to make sure his men brought food for themselves and eggs, milk, and bread for the woman. It was the first time he had spoken anything but Russian in front of the woman and she was surprised and a little nervous that she couldn't understand them. Michael turned back to the woman and gave her a reassuring smile.

  “They will bring eggs, milk, and bread for you,” he told her.

  She smiled and seemed to relax a little. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Michael replied.

  “Are you FSB?” she asked.

  Michael just smiled without providing an answer. If she believed he was with the modern-day version of the USSR’s KGB, she would be less likely to talk to the authorities about them. So he let her believe it.

  The rest of David's team arrived a few hours later, bringing with them a laptop that was set up so they could monitor Grekov's phone calls and emails as well as those of his mistress. One man stayed behind to keep tabs on Grekov.

  The men in the apartment took turns sitting by the front door listening for anyone coming and going from the apartment across the hall. Grekov's girlfriend arrived home late that evening with multiple shopping bags.

  Since Michael's Russian was better than anyone else’s he was tasked with listening every time Grekov made a call. They learned nothing helpful from the few phone calls that he made. When it was confirmed that Grekov had returned home, Michael decided to get some sleep. He asked the widow where he could lie down. He didn't want to presume the couch would be OK. His polite and respectful attitude paid off. She showed him to the guest room and offered him the bed. He thanked her and settled in for a few hours.

  He lay on the bed and all he could think about was Jessica and Ana. He sat up as his heart began to race. He should have heard back from Gatti by now. Something about the whole situation with Jessica and Dmitri stunk. He sat on the edge of the bed holding his head in his hands. The anxiety of not knowing what was going on was beginning to wear on him. His heart continued to race and he wanted to call Gatti again, but figured he would get the same response.

  CORVO RAN the phone calls they recorded with the informant through voice recognition software, comparing it to a brief audio clip of Renier they took from a voicemail recording. The result was inconclusive. Though he hadn't expected it to pan out, he had still hoped it might.

  He sat in his office with the door closed, resting his head in his hands, worried sick about Jessica. He hadn't slept or eaten since hearing about Jeffrey Bowen's estate being destroyed. He spent his restless hours during the night staring at his phone, hoping it would ring. Hoping maybe Jessica would call to tell him she was all right. Or that Gatti would call and tell him he heard from her and that they were all right. No such news came, and the morning sun rose. His hopes faded along with the night.

  Corvo's office phone rang, prompting him to sit up straight. He looked at the caller ID. It was a private number and he let it ring a few more times as he decided whether or not he cared to take it. Anyone who really needed to reach him would call his cell phone. He reached forward and lifted the receiver before it went to voicemail.

  “Special Agent Lance Corvo,” he answered.

  “It's me.”

  He recognized the voice immediately. “Michael. Why are you calling me here?”

  “What's going on with Jessica?” Michael got right to the point.

  “What do you mean?” Corvo tried to play dumb.

  “Gatti told me you don't know where they are. Why wouldn't you tell me?”

  Corvo felt sick. He couldn't believe after all that talk about lying to Michael, Gatti went ahead and told him the truth anyways. Lack of sleep and stress about Jinx, Jessica and Tatiana had taken its toll on him and his normally acute mind was suffering. It didn't even occur to him that Michael might be tricking him.

  “God, Michael, I'm so sorry.”

  Michael closed his eyes as he got confirmation of his fear. Time seemed to slow and his body felt like it was sinking in quick sand. Michael could hardly believe it. “What happened?” he asked softly.

  “You don't know?” Corvo now realized what Michael had done, but it was too late. He had all but admitted it already. He cursed under his breath.

  “Where is my family, Lance?”

  “The truth is, we don't know, Michael. We just don't know.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Michael spoke slowly but forcefully.

  “We're not even sure of that.”

  “Lance,” Michael's tone expressed his frustration.

  Corvo sighed. “We couldn't get ahold of Jessica, Jeff, or any of his guards. So Tim sent someone to the house. When he got there, it was in flames. We don't know yet if anyone was inside.”

  Michael tried to remain calm despite feeling like his world was collapsing in on him. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “About eighteen hours ago.”

  Michael didn't say a word. Jessica would have called someone by now, he thought. He didn't know what to do with the news. He didn't know whether he wanted to cry or scream, carry on the plan or kill Grekov and be done with it. If Dmitri and his family were already dead, there was no reason to continue with the plan. Clearing Dmitri wouldn't matter.

  “Michael, I'm sorry,” Corvo said again. Michael remained silent which began to worry Corvo. “What do you want to do?” Corvo asked. There was no reply. “Michael?” Still no reply. “Michael? Are you there?” He swore, realizing Michael had hung up. He quickly called Gatti to break the bad news and strategize about what to do next.

  MICHAEL PACED the bedroom trying not to scream. His mind was rapidly becom
ing focused on killing Grekov when he showed up at his girlfriend's apartment. Neither David, nor his men, would stop him. He wouldn't even need to tell them. He would just do it. What happened after that, Michael didn't care. As Michael was plotting revenge his phone rang. He knew it was either Gatti or Corvo, so he just let it ring. A few seconds later, it rang again. Then a third time. The thought crossed Michael's mind that maybe they had news on Jessica or maybe even it was her calling. So when it rang for the fourth time, he answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Michael, listen to me...”

  “Tim, unless you're patching Jessica through, we have nothing to talk about,” Michael cut him off.

  “They're fine, Michael. I swear to you, they're fine.”

  “Bull!” Michael screamed at the top of his lungs. “Stop lying to me!” Michael followed that up with an obscenity laced tirade. “Lance already told me you don't know where they are, so don't feed me that bull about them being fine!”

  “OK, you're right. We don't know where they are right now, but I do know for certain they escaped the house. Jessica and Tatiana are safe with Dmitri, Ivan, and Timur. I swear to you, Michael.”

  Michael shook his head. Tears finally broke as his frustration overwhelmed him. “How could I possibly trust you?”

  “Michael, I have intel that I can't share with Lance. OK? I know for a fact that Jessica and Tatiana are fine.”

  “How? How do you know?” Michael desperately wanted to believe what Gatti was telling him, but after talking to Corvo it was nearly impossible.

  “I can't tell you that.”

  “That doesn't work for me, Tim. How do I know you're not lying to me? How could I possibly believe anything you tell me?”

  “Michael, do you believe I'm your friend?”

  Michael grit his teeth. He didn't know what to believe.

  “Michael, you know me. You know my family. Do you believe I'm your friend?”

  “I did.”

  Gatti sighed. “I'm still your friend, Michael. And I need you to trust me right now and know that your family is safe. Whatever you're thinking of doing. Whatever revenge or self-destructive thing you're planning. I'm telling you now, don't do it. Because they are fine. Don't destroy your life over something that hasn't even happened.”