Avenue of Thieves

by Sean Black

“Okay, remember how the Aryan Brotherhood gang members all had that shamrock on their knuckle.”

  “Yeah, tipping the rock. Wasn’t that what they called it?”

  “That’s the one. It was the way they identified another AB member. They were the only ones allowed to have that tattoo. So that star you noticed? Solid, eight points, placed high up like that? It means you’re a vory.”

  “Say what?”

  “It’s a tattoo that identifies a vory v zakone, a member of the Russian Mafia. They’ve been deep into getting tattoos from way back.”

  “So what was he doing running around with that passport? Had to be a forgery, right?”

  “I don’t know,” said Lock. “Looked real enough to me, but I’m hardly an expert.”

  “I dunno, brother. There’s a whole bunch of stuff that seems off here.”

  “Such as?”

  “The big one?” said Ty. “I don’t get why a government would be going so hard against one guy. If he was involved in politics, opposing them, trying to bring them down, that I’d understand.”

  Lock had to concede it was a fair point. But there was a counter to it.

  “How hard would you go up against someone if you thought they’d cough up several billion?” he asked Ty.

  “I feel ya,” said Ty. “But it still feels like we’re not getting the full story here.”

  As they got out of the elevator, Lock dug into a bag and pulled out one of the toys Ty had purchased for Anastasia. Ty was generous, and warmhearted, especially when it came to kids, but any excuse to visit the world Mecca of toy stores when they were in New York and Ty took it. Watching the six-foot-four Marine wait his turn to play on the store’s giant electronic piano was forever etched on Lock’s memory.

  Lock held up the Booty Shaking Plastic Llama and shook his head at his partner. “Really?”

  “What did the lady say? This is the hot-ticket toy at the moment.”

  It was true. It had been the salesperson’s recommendation. Not that Ty had appeared to need much persuading.

  “Come on, dude. A dancing llama. Way better than that singing Billy Bass shit all you white folks lost your minds over a few years back.”

  They headed inside and took the elevator up to Anastasia Semenov’s room. The bodyguard was posted on the door. He stood up from his chair as they walked down the corridor.

  Lock hoped that Elizabeth hadn’t been so soused she’d forgotten to let him know they were dropping by. He held up the bags as a signal that they came in peace.

  “Her father’s in there with her,” said the bodyguard.

  “That’s good. We need to speak with him,” said Lock. “And in the meantime we need to speak with you about the arrangements here.”

  “We brought her some toys,” said Ty, holding up the bags from FAO Schwarz.

  The bodyguard peered into the bags and shot Ty a look. Ty stared him down.

  “I’ll let Mr. Semenov know you’re here.”

  “Where’s McLennan? In fact, where’s the rest of the personal escort team?”

  “Side room,” said the bodyguard, with a nod to a nearby door.

  Fat lot of good they were doing in there, thought Lock. Someone could have strolled out of the elevator, taken out this guy, and been in the room with the principal and his daughter before the others could do anything about it.

  An assassin didn’t approach with a big arrow over their head. They were usually blending in. All it would take was some kind of uniform and a cleaning cart.

  “Ty, take this door,” said Lock. “I’m going to have a word with McLennan.”

  “Got you,” said Ty, moving in front of the door as the bodyguard went to inform Semenov they were there.

  As Lock pushed the door open, one of the security detail jumped to his feet, hand moving to his gun. McLennan saw it was Lock and waved for him to sit back down. “Relax, he’s one of ours,” said McLennan.

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt your break,” said Lock.

  McLennan put his hands on the table and levered himself up. He had dark bags under his eyes, and looked exhausted. “I’ll come out there.”

  Lock held the door open and they stepped out into the corridor. “So what’s the deal? You have your principal in a room guarded by one guy who’s standing in an unsecured corridor.”

  “It’s been secured,” snapped McLennan.

  “When?”

  “When we got here.”

  “And since then we walked in here with no one stopping us,” said Lock.

  “Listen, pal,” said McLennan. “I’ve been on this job for months now, and every time I think it can’t get any crazier it does. Maybe if Semenov could keep his dick in his pants for longer than a few minutes at a time we might actually be able to regroup for long enough to get a handle on this.”

  Lock wasn’t buying it. Crazy clients and crazier principals came with the territory, especially at the wealthier end of the scale. Close protection was about dealing with and managing chaos.

  In any case it was hardly a minimum-wage mall-cop gig. McLennan and his team were being extremely well remunerated. Six months on a gig like this would make them what it would have taken ten years of active service to pull down.

  “So why don’t you quit?” said Lock.

  “That what this is really about? You suggesting we should be replaced so you and your buddy can take over?”

  “The only thing I want to see is that the job gets done properly. If it’s you doing it, or me, makes no difference. Now, if you think our boy here is taking unnecessary risks then man the hell up and go tell him.”

  “You think I haven’t tried? I’m just the hired help, and so are you if you stick around.”

  “Fine,” said Lock. “Then do the job. Go get one of your guys and post him next to that elevator and have another stand at the end of that corridor. And whoever you have left, put them on transport duty downstairs.”

  “You’re giving the orders now?” said McLennan.

  “I guess I am,” said Lock.

  McLennan turned on his heel and disappeared back inside the room. Lock heard him dishing out the same commands he’d just been given.

  The door into Anastasia’s room opened and Dimitri appeared just in time to see his PES move into the positions they should have been taking this whole time.

  Rather than staying angry at their slacking, Lock was pleased. Whatever his personal moral failings, Dimitri Semenov didn’t need any additional worries at the moment.

  “We’re going to need to find a backup team for when these guys walk,” Lock said to his partner.

  “You think they will?” Ty asked him.

  “I think they were mentally checking out as soon as those cars took off over that bridge. Even if they hang around for the cash we’re going to need some fresh bodies in here.”

  “Ryan, we don’t have the time to do that and work out what the hell’s going on.”

  “We don’t have to,” said Lock. “He has a whole office full of people. I’m sure he can spare us a couple of folks to work on sourcing some new close protection operators. Probably best to go with one of the big companies. That way it’s plug in and play.”

  “Full replacement?”

  “Absolutely. In the meantime we can gather enough information to deal with the handover.”

  Ty nodded as Dimitri headed over to speak with them.

  “You’re right,” said Ty. “Fresh team is what this needs.”

  Lock would have to be careful how he broached the subject with Dimitri. It probably wasn’t a discussion for tonight. He’d wait until he’d had some sleep and was a little fresher.

  Dimitri shook their hand. “Thanks for being here, and for the gifts. Anastasia loves them, especially the bracelet.”

  “Yeah, some of my cousins’ kids have those bracelets,” said Ty. “They never take them off.”

  “Oh, and that little dancing animal,” said Dimitri. “That seems to be her favorite.”

  “Told
you,” Ty said to Lock.

  “The bracelet contains a tracking chip,” said Lock. “We thought it was a good precautionary measure. I cleared it with Elizabeth before we collected it.”

  “You think she’s a kidnap threat?” said Dimitri.

  “You don’t?” said Ty.

  “A bracelet can be removed, though,” said Dimitri.

  “It could,” said Lock. “There are subcutaneous chips that can be inserted under the skin, but those can be removed by kidnappers too, only that’s a lot more traumatic.”

  Wincing a little, Dimitri nodded to Lock to continue.

  “So with kids we usually recommend something unobtrusive that they would wear anyway.”

  “The bracelet’s regular. We fitted the tracker chip. It’s not one of the commercial tracking devices on the market that someone’s going to toss as soon as they see it,” said Ty.

  “And the other toys?” asked Dimitri.

  “All regular stuff,” said Ty.

  “Distraction strategy,” said Lock. “You sit down with a girl that age and go through why she has to wear a tracker, it’s not good, it only creates more anxiety. This way, she slips it on, and she’s so busy playing with the other stuff that it barely registers.”

  “If she starts taking it off we can have the conversation,” said Ty.

  The oligarch tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling. “What a way to live.”

  “It won’t last forever,” said Lock.

  “I hope not, because right now I don’t see any end to this madness.”

  “There’s always an end. The important thing is that we put in place all the measures now to make sure that we can get there safely,” Lock told him.

  “You’re right. It’s just . . . I know it may not seem like it to you, or anyone else, but Elizabeth and Anastasia mean everything to me. Someone harming me is one thing, but harming them?”

  “I understand,” said Lock, meaning it. He knew the intense pain of losing people close to him. It never left you and, in a strange way, you didn’t want it to leave you.

  “So how are you holding up?” Lock asked Dimitri.

  “I’ll tell you when I get home,” he said, a smile appearing briefly on his face.

  “Yeah, you might want to take a raincheck on that,” said Ty, earning a look from Lock.

  “It’s fine,” said Dimitri. “It’s important to retain your sense of humor in times like these. Sadly, I don’t think there are many hotels in the city that would be delighted to have me as a guest right now.”

  Lock had to hand it to him. Dimitri was made of tough stuff. By now, most men would have folded under this kind of pressure. Certainly Lock had walked in on a bunch of men who should have been way more capable of a healthy degree of forbearance, only to find them seemingly contemplating their escape.

  Former special forces personnel could often be excellent close protection operators, but they sometimes struggled with the reactive nature of the job. They were used to being on the front foot rather than waiting for a threat that might or might not come. That was what Lock suspected was going on here.

  The job had once been described to him back in the Royal Military Police as consisting of ‘hours of boredom, and moments of terror’. SF guys were trained to deal with the moments-of-terror part. The stress of being, as they saw it, sitting ducks was something else. Sure they were used to downtime, but not this kind of downtime.

  “How’s Elizabeth?” said Dimitri. “I tried calling her, but she hung up. Not that I blame her.”

  “You want the polite answer or the truth?” said Lock.

  “That good, huh? Maybe I’ll sleep at the office.”

  “No,” said Lock. “The fewer locations these guys need to cover the better. We can’t afford to be spread too thinly over the ground right now. You have a spare bedroom, right?

  “One or two.” Dimitri smiled.

  “That’s good,” said Lock, hesitating. “There’s something else. Ty and I both think that you may want to consider replacing your current security team. Not immediately, but these things take time so the sooner we get started on sourcing a replacement, the better.”

  “Replace them?” said Dimitri. “Why? I thought they’ve been doing everything they should be, give or take one or two slip-ups.”

  Like choosing one of the few vehicles in North America that could be hacked to the point where it could be driven at high speed off a bridge, Lock thought, but didn’t say. “They’re a solid team,” said Lock. “And I’m not questioning their integrity or the work they’ve done for you so far. But at the very least they need to be rotated out for a while, given the opportunity to decompress. The military do it all the time. You can’t leave someone on constant deployment in high-stress situations.”

  “Could have fooled me,” Ty said under his breath. During his time in the Marine Corps he had been constantly deployed and redeployed as normal cycles had been set aside after 9/11, and the stop-loss policy had extended his service.

  Dimitri was quiet. “I don’t like. I show loyalty to those who show it to me.”

  “Okay. Then keep them on some kind of retainer and let them take some time off.”

  From his expression, it didn’t look like Dimitri was buying into the idea. “Anastasia is used to seeing the same faces. It’s comforting for a child, especially when they’re sick.”

  “It’s usually the same couple of guys with her at the hospital?” said Ty.

  “Yes.”

  “Then keep them on for the time being,” said Lock. “How long before she’s able to come home?”

  “They won’t say. It depends on how this new round of treatment goes, but maybe another week and she can have some time with us.”

  “Okay, switch them out then,” said Lock. “She’ll be so happy to be home that she probably won’t notice.”

  Dimitri sighed. “That would work. So are you going to tell them, or will I?”

  “We can break the news. We’re already the bad guys anyway,” said Ty.

  “They may be pissed, but I think they may also be relieved,” said Lock.

  “They should be happy,” said Dimitri.

  “How’s that?” asked Lock.

  “They get a break. I don’t.”

  “Like I said before, this will pass.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mr. Lock. I really do.”

  21

  Lock had pressed McLennan to double up the men on duty at the hospital. There would be a man directly outside Anastasia’s room, and another posted further down the corridor. The second would be able to liaise with the hospital’s existing security without the bodyguard on the door having to leave his post. In the morning they would switch with two others.

  Meanwhile Lock and Ty had accompanied Dimitri and his PES back to the townhouse. As they walked him inside, Ty nudged Lock.

  “If anyone in the world needs a bodyguard right now . . .” said Ty.

  “No kidding.”

  “So what’s the protocol for a wife attacking the principal?”

  Lock took a moment. Ty was joking, but it was a good question.

  “Reasonable restraint,” said Lock. “The last thing we need is anyone taking a trip to the hospital. Or any more fresh meat for the vultures standing outside with TV cameras.”

  “Roger that,” said Ty, as they followed Dimitri into an eerily quiet living room.

  A housekeeper appeared.

  “Mrs. Semenov has gone to bed,” she told them diplomatically.

  Lock guessed that with the way she’d been pounding down the Scotch she’d eventually passed out and been taken to bed.

  “Thank you,” said Dimitri. “Are all the guest rooms prepared?”

  “Yes, Mr. Semenov.”

  “You guys don’t mind staying over, do you?” he asked Lock and Ty.

  “I was going to head back to Sinai,” said Ty. “Couple of things I want to check. If that’s okay with you?”

  “Of course,” said Dimitri
.

  On the journey back Ty had expressed some concerns to Lock about some of the existing security, especially the apparent lack of checks on access to the elevator. Even though they had two men there, he’d told Lock he’d feel better if he was there personally.

  “Okay,” said Ty. “I’m out.”

  He fist-bumped Lock and headed from the room.

  “Come on,” Dimitri said to Lock. “I’m going to make some coffee.”

  He must have picked up on the slightly puzzled expression on Lock’s face.

  “I wasn’t always a billionaire,” he said. “There was a time when I had to do everything for myself.”

  Lock followed him out of the room, along a corridor and into the kitchen, as McLennan and the others made themselves scarce. He had a feeling he was in for a late-night therapy session, with Dimitri being the patient and him in the role of therapist.

  “Mr. Semenov, would you give me one second? I just have to make a quick call.”

  Lock’s girlfriend, Carmen Lazaro, picked up his call. She was at home in the up-scale apartment they shared on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles.

  “Hey, sweetie, it’s me. I meant to call earlier but it’s been kind of hectic.”

  “So I’ve seen from the news.”

  “You caught that, huh?” he said.

  “Pretty juicy story,” she said. “Not every day that a supermodel’s tossed from the window of a five-star hotel by a billionaire Russian.”

  “He has an alibi, and lots of witnesses,” said Lock.

  “Just as well. So how is it?” Carmen asked.

  He sensed what was behind the question. What she really wanted to know was when he’d be home. “It’s going to take a little longer than I thought.”

  She laughed. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Why don’t we go up to Napa for the weekend when I get back?”

  “Sounds good. Ryan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Just be careful, okay? These Russians, they don’t play.”

  “Hey, neither do I.”

  Lock walked into the cavernous kitchen to find Dimitri hunched over a long-handled copper pot on the stove.