Denouement

by E. H. Reinhard

  After a quick morning talk with Callie, I was back reading phone numbers and the notes beside them. I finished with the guy I’d started on the night earlier and grabbed the only file that remained. The cover sheet listed a circled name next to the words “Time, date, weather”. The woman’s name was Iris Sanchez.

  I looked into the numbers called by the man, named Nikolay Bondarev. Halfway down the sheet, I found the number for that time-and-weather service in Miami. Two more inches down the page, I found it again. It was simply too much to ignore. Whether Faust and his team had found anything or not, I could no longer ignore the fact that all these associates of Ray were calling the same number. I leaned back in my chair, thinking of what to do.

  Hank walked into my office and laid his stack of records on my desk. “Zip,” he said.

  I nodded and tossed them in the “completed” box.

  I clasped my hands behind my head. “So if a number of these Azarov associates were all calling the same number for something that seemed like nothing on the surface, you would have to assume that there is something there, correct?”

  “What do you mean?” Hank asked.

  “I have three guys all calling a time-and-weather number located in Miami.”

  “Yeah, I had one of those too. You had three, you said?”

  I nodded.

  “So what is it, really?”

  “Faust said they looked into it. I guess the website and phone number come back to a woman. She has a clean sheet. No connections to the Azarovs that they could find.”

  “Sounds like she’s connected somehow. Where does she live?”

  “Miami somewhere. Hold on.” I typed her name into my computer to pull her sheet. “Apparently, she has an apartment in Miami Beach.” I searched the address and brought up a map. “It’s oceanfront. I’m not super familiar with Miami.” I searched images of the building. “The building looks nice, though.”

  “Does the address from the website and phone number match the apartment?” Hank asked.

  “No clue.”

  “Terry could probably get the information from the website registration and find out. What’s the website name?”

  “Miami T and W dot com,” I said.

  “Call down to tech and see if he’s in.”

  I reached out for my desk phone and dialed Terry Murphy’s desk in the tech department downstairs. On the seventh or eighth ring, someone answered.

  “Terry,” he said.

  “Hey, it’s Kane. I’m wondering if you can get me a physical address for the registration on a website.”

  “I can try. What’s the domain name?”

  “Miami T and W dot com.”

  “T as in the letter?”

  “Correct.”

  “Give me one second.”

  I heard Terry typing.

  “It looks like the WHOIS report is showing the domain as private.”

  “I have no clue what that means,” I said.

  “It just means that the owner spent an extra couple of bucks to not have the information listed as public.”

  “So we won’t be able to get it, or…?”

  “A phone call from a cop to the company that the domain was purchased from might be all it takes to get the name and address. Do you want me to make the call?”

  “Sure, what the hell. The feds already looked into it, and we have the woman’s name that it belongs to, but you never know. If it’s a different address, it may lead us somewhere.”

  “Okay. I’ll give them a ring, and I’ll let you know what I get.”

  “Thanks, Terry.”

  “Yeah, no sweat.”

  I hung up and looked at Hank. “He says he’s going to make a call to the place the domain name was purchased from.”

  Hank nodded. “So this woman is clean? It’s too much of a coincidence. Who do we know in Miami that could maybe do a little sniffing around?”

  I thought for a second. I didn’t know anyone from Miami personally, other than Callie.

  “What about the detective that sent you all the information on the Azarovs when they had Callie?” Hank asked.

  I smiled. Hank had nailed it. He was exactly the man to call. “Lieutenant Harrington,” I said.

  “Think about it. Look how much time he put into creating that file on Viktor. He’d probably jump at the chance to do a little poking around if it had anything to do with the Azarovs.”

  “It’s worth a phone call, at the very least,” I said.

  Hank slapped the edge of my desk and stood. “You make the call. I’m going to go grab a coffee. Karen has been brewing this godawful organic stuff at home.”

  “But I thought both you and Karen agreed that organic anything was so much better?” I asked.

  “I got over the whole kick when I had to do the grocery shopping and saw the bill. I’ll stick with my processed junk food from here on out.” He rubbed his stomach. “I think I’ll grab a couple of Twinkies to soak up the coffee.”

  Hank turned toward the door and left my office.

  I searched the number for the Miami Dade PD and dialed.

  A woman answered within a couple rings. “Miami Dade Police, how can I direct your call?”

  “Lieutenant Kane from the Tampa Police Department. I’m looking for a Lieutenant Harrington.”

  “One moment. I’ll transfer you to his office.”

  Hold music played in my ear. It was cut short by the phone ringing once again.

  “Harrington,” he answered.

  “Hey, this is Lieutenant Carl Kane from Tampa Homicide. We spoke a few months back regarding Viktor Azarov. You sent me up a file.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Lieutenant Kane. I got word a few weeks back that Viktor was killed in prison. It’s just so unfortunate.” His voice rang with sarcasm. “What can I do for you?”

  “Well, were trying to locate his brother, and—”

  “Brother? Andrei Azarov? I thought he was dead.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Okay, you have my attention.”

  “We’re digging into his associates. We have some phone records that we’re going over, and we keep getting a hit for a number belonging to a woman who apparently owns a time-and-weather deal down there. She’s got a website that lists, well, the time and weather and a phone number that gives you the same thing. We have these Azarov associates all calling this number fairly regularly.”

  “Interesting,” Harrington said. “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Iris Sanchez.”

  “Did you say Iris Sanchez?” he asked.

  “Yeah, do you know that name?”

  “Do you have an address?”

  I gave it to him.

  He was quiet for a moment.

  “Still there?” I asked.

  “Iris Sanchez, at that address, is the girlfriend of one of our sergeants.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Ivan Blok.”

  “That name sounds Russian,” I said.

  “He is. Let me have a quick chat with my captain here and see what he says. I’ll give you a ring back in a few minutes. Do you have a number for me?”

  I gave him the direct number to my desk.

  “It should be a half hour or so,” Harrington said.

  “Yeah, that’s fine. I appreciate it.”

  I clicked off and plugged the guy’s name into my computer the way I imagined it to be spelled.

  Hank walked back in my office, holding two cups of coffee. He slid one toward me and took a seat across from me at my desk. “Did you get him on the phone?” Hank asked.

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “The woman is the girlfriend of one of their sergeants at the Miami PD, an Ivan Blok. He just so happens to be Russian.”

  “What? Really?”

  I nodded. “Harrington is going to call me back after he asks his captain what they want to do.”

  “Dirty cop?” Hank asked.

  “I don’t
know. That seems to be going around though,” I said.

  Chapter 14

  Ray stared out the window of a high-rise condo in downtown Tampa. His mind raced with thoughts. The heat from the feds and local police would soon be too much to handle. They knew he was alive and would be putting forth a full effort to find him. He walked to the bar, grabbed his cell phone, and dialed.

  “Yeah,” a man answered.

  “Do we have any more potential buyers for the contacts overseas?” Ray asked.

  “No. Where are you? What number is this?”

  “It’s a new burner phone. I’m at Sokoloff’s condo,” Ray said.

  “Get out of there. Take whatever you need and leave.”

  “What do you mean? What’s going on?”

  “My captain just spent the last twenty minutes questioning me about Iris and the time and weather. They know something. There’s people looking into everything. I’m out of here.”

  “What can they get from that? Just have her get rid of everything.”

  “They can damn sure get the incoming calls. Aside from that, if they start looking into me, they’ll dig into my bank records and get that condo.”

  “Shit,” Ray said. “What do you know about federal warrants for something having to do with us?”

  “Federal warrants?” Blok asked.

  “Yeah. It has to do with the money somehow,” Ray said.

  “I don’t know. It could stem back to the charges they were bringing up on Viktor. They could have found the others he was working with. Either way, it’s time to leave.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Airport and out of the country.”

  “Shit,” Ray repeated. “Who can I call?”

  Ivan didn’t respond. Ray could hear him talking to someone on the other end of the phone, maybe Iris.

  “Who can I call?” Ray asked again.

  “I don’t know. Just find a way to get yourself out of there and put as much distance as you can between you and Florida.”

  “Yeah, I get it. So, who can I call to help? I need money. I need some kind of an ID in order to travel. Who did Yury use for documents?”

  “There’s no one that’s going to help. There’s no money. It’s self-preservation time, Andrei. Get in a car and drive if you have to.”

  “Self-preservation time?” Ray paced back and forth in front of the condo’s wall of windows. “We’ve supported your ass for years! Covered your debts, eliminated problems. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for us!”

  “Ray. Listen. Get the hell out of there. I’m saying that to you as a friend.”

  Ray let out a puff of air into the phone’s mouthpiece. “Okay, friend. I’ll be sure to make a mental note of how much you helped out when I catch up with you.”

  “Whatever. Do what you want. Sit there and get taken into custody or come after me. I don’t care. And if we’re being honest about the situation here, your brother was the one who helped me out with the debts, and I’ve been sending you money since he left us. I gave you a thousand here and a thousand there. I’ve been sending off a check to pay for the lease on Sokoloff’s condo so you can stay there. I can’t do it anymore. Hell, I even paid for your doctors when that cop shot you all to hell. Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve done enough for you, Ray. It’s time to go.”

  “Shit!” Ray clicked off from the phone call and tossed the phone back up on the bar. “Piece of shit cop.”

  He went to the back of the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. After drinking it down in a single gulp, he filled the glass again. He ran through the short list of people he could call that could at least provide him shelter. He dialed three numbers, but two were disconnected. He received a generic robotic voice mail on the third. Ray dialed a fourth, Yakov Mishutin.

  He answered on the ninth or tenth ring. “Hello.”

  “Yakov?” Ray asked.

  “Speaking.”

  “It’s Ray.”

  “Ray who?” Yakov asked.

  “It’s Andrei. You know who this is. Stop screwing around. This is serious. I need a favor.”

  “Um, I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know anyone by that name.” Yakov hung up.

  “Son of a bitch!” Ray said. He clicked End.

  He ran his hand over the side of his head, his fingertips floating over bruises and cuts from his encounter with the FBI agent, Faust. The feeling of pain from his hand brushing against his injuries only angered him further. Ray dialed the last person who could help, Mark Popov. The phone rang in Ray’s ear.

  “Hello,” Mark answered.

  “It’s Ray. I’m in a jam. I need to be put up for a few days while I figure a few things out.”

  “I’m heading out of town,” he said.

  “Can I stay at the house until you get back?”

  “My family is there, and I’m not coming back. I spoke with Ivan. Everyone has spoken with Ivan.”

  “So that’s why Yakov is trying to act like he doesn’t know who I am?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  Ray cursed under his breath.

  “I’m getting out of here, Andrei. Before I can’t. You should be leaving too.”

  Ray let out a breath in frustration. “Do you think you can wire me some money before you head out? Just a couple grand to help me move around.”

  “I never got paid back the just a couple of grand I gave you last time.”

  “Look, I understand, but you’ll get back whatever money you give me. You know I’m good for it. I’ll just send it to your family if it’s easier.”

  “Sorry, Andrei. I can’t help. You’re on your own.” Popov hung up.

  Ray squeezed the phone in his hand until his knuckles were white.

  He couldn’t get out of the country by traditional methods without a doctored passport and identification. He didn’t have enough money to buy either, even if he had the name of a person who could make them. He didn’t have the funds to leave by boat. He doubted the car he was driving would even make it out of state. Ray needed double the money he had at the minimum. A thought flickered in his head. He once again picked up his phone and dialed. A recording played in Ray’s ear. He pressed the one key to be transferred.

  “Chicagoland Firearm and Supply.”

  “Erik, it’s Ray. Are you still in Atlanta?”

  “I’m just packing up and getting ready to head back up to Chicago. What’s up?”

  Ray leaned against the bar. “How did the show go?”

  “I sold a handful. I’d say it was about average.”

  “Are you taking inventory back? Inventory in the under-the-table variety?”

  “Some.”

  “Do you want to head south and unload it?”

  “Well, that depends. To who?”

  “Me,” Ray said.

  “You?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, I thought… I just heard that you were having, um, some financial roadblocks.” Erik’s voice sounded hesitant.

  “I’ll buy two grand of whatever you got.”

  “Two grand?”

  Ray tapped his fingertips across the granite top of the bar. “Yeah.”

  “Two grand isn’t going to get you very far.”

  “Look, I’ll take whatever you can give me that hits that dollar amount,” Ray said.

  “Um. I don’t know, Andrei. Two thousand dollars isn’t really enough to make it worth my while. Five, and we may be able to come up with something. Ten would be better.”

  Ray scratched the side of his head and looked down at his watch, the Rolex he’d acquired on his very first job. A pawn shop would at least give him a few thousand dollars for it. He shook his head in disappointment. “I can do five.”

  “And you have the cash on hand?”

  “Yeah, I have it right here.”

  “Okay. I’ll finish getting loaded up and head down. Where am I meeting you?”

  “It will be somewhere around the Tampa area. I’ll call you w
ith an exact location. When will you be here?”

  “Maybe five o’clock or so,” Erik said.

  “Sure. What’s the cell phone number you’re using?”

  Erik gave it to him, and Ray jotted it down.

  “Good. I’ll call you this afternoon with the spot.” Ray clicked off.

  He took a sip of his whiskey, swirled the ice cubes at the bottom of the glass, and finished the drink. The five thousand he would have to spend on guns could be doubled by selling them on the street. That would take only a week, a smart decision. Ten thousand would be enough to get him out of the country. Another thought crept into Ray’s head. He could just kill Erik and take whatever guns he had. Plus, he’d have a different vehicle to move around in. Ray poured himself another drink and contemplated the decision.

  Chapter 15

  My desk phone didn’t make a full ring before I pulled it from the receiver. “Lieutenant Kane,” I said.

  “Hey, Kane, it’s Terry downstairs.”

  “Yeah, Terry. Did you get anything?”

  “They gave me a bit of a runaround, so I had to throw the words subpoena and warrant out there. After that, they gave me her information. Iris Sanchez on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach.”

  “Apartment number?” I asked.

  “Hold on. I have it right here. Um, apartment three thirty-nine.”

  “Okay. Yeah, that’s the same address as on her sheet. It was worth a shot. I appreciate the effort.”

  “Yup. No problem, Kane.”

  I hung the phone back on the receiver.

  “Nothing new on the website stuff?” Hank asked.

  “Nope. It’s the same apartment address.”

  Hank tried covering a yawn with his hand. “When did Harrington say he was calling back?” he asked.

  “He said a half hour.”

  “It’s been a half hour. Did you hear anything from Faust lately?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing today, in fact. I was going to give him a call in a little bit and see what, if anything, was going on.”

  “What are we doing in the meantime?”

  I held my palms up. “Waiting.”

  Hank yawned again and stretched. “I didn’t sleep worth a crap last night.”