by Marie Astor
“That won’t be necessary,” Pierce cut him off. “I’ll get to the bottom of this myself,” he said with a finality that made Petr Kovar turn gray. “Do the feds have any idea of the location where this Dennis is being held?” Pierce asked, directing his attention to Burke.
“I don’t think so, Ed. At least the witness, Janet Maple, said she didn’t know. I couldn’t tell if she was telling the truth, though. Seemed to me like she was hiding something,” Burke said.
“Don’t you worry about it, Tom. I’ll take care of her,” Pierce said as though he were talking about going grocery shopping. “Can you hold off the feds for a little while longer, Tom?” Pierce turned his attention to Burke.
Burke cleared his throat. “Yes, I can keep them at bay for a while,” he said importantly. “I went through the paperwork and noticed several irregularities—nothing serious—just administrative nonsense, but even nonsense can delay things if properly escalated. As you know, government bureaucrats value procedures over results.”
A half-smile appeared on Pierce’s face. “Oh, yes. I know that very well. Who’s the agent in charge on the case?”
“Agent Andrew Lang. I thought he’d play ball, but he turned out to be a real stickler.” Burke patted his back pocket where he’d put the unused cash he’d meant to pay off Lang with and went still. The money wasn’t there—it must’ve fallen out of his pocket without his noticing. His armpits instantly turned damp with sweat. U.S. Marshal’s salary didn’t exactly allow room for one to carry five grand in one’s back pocket.
“Anything the matter?” Pierce’s icy gaze burrowed into Burke.
“Everything’s fine,” Burke said quickly. “I’m just a bit stiff, that’s all. Need to lose a couple of pounds.” He chuckled and patted his belly. His initial panic had subsided—the five grand he’d lost was no small chunk of change, but the good news was that the money wasn’t in his wallet and there was no way of tracing it back to him. “As I was saying, that Lang guy is a real nuisance. He’s all hyped up about the investigation and he believed every word that busybody Janet Maple was saying. I tried to discredit her, but he wouldn’t have any of it.”
Pierce was silent for a moment, probably leafing through a rolodex of corrupt agents in his mind. “We’re in luck. I know his supervisor. Give me twenty four hours and I’ll have this taken care of.”
“Excellent. I can hold him off for that long.” Burke rose to his feet—his chat with the underworld czar had lasted long enough.
“I’ll walk you out,” Pierce rose to his feet. “I appreciate you going an extra mile for me, Tommy. You’ll be well compensated for your troubles.”
I’d better be, Burke thought, plastering a grateful smile on his face. If Pierce thought he was going to get this extra service for free, he was sorely mistaken. This was going to cost him major, or the FBI just might pay him a surprise visit.
“Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.” Pierce moved toward the door, motioning for Burke to follow him.
***
Anton Kovar was trembling with silent rage. When he saw his uncle snivel and cower before Ed Pierce like a scared puppy, Anton could scarcely believe his eyes. Petr Kovar had made grown men cower and shake with fear, and now he was letting Ed Pierce berate him like a school boy. Anton had been looking up to his uncle Petr his whole life, but tonight his childhood idol had been destroyed.
Not having sons of his own, Petr had brought Anton and Roman up as his own. When they were old enough, he started bringing them into the business. Petr had been equally good to both Roman and Anton, but it was no secret Roman wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Before long, Anton became Petr’s right hand, running most of his schemes for him, while Roman took care of less important business. Anton used to be proud of his life. He used to feel like a powerful man, but that all changed after the arrest. Suddenly, he was no longer the nephew of a powerful gangster, but a nameless inmate. Granted, the Kovar name still carried respect in the criminal circles. All the inmates and even the jail guards treated them with certain deference, but the mere thought of being put behind bars like some monkey in a zoo was humiliating.
The only thing that kept Anton going in jail was the thought of revenge. When he’d learned they were getting out, he was elated. Soon the Kovars’ name would be restored to its former glory and Anton would get his payback. Every day he cursed himself for shagging up with that backstabbing witch Mila. The girl was dynamite in the sack, but she had the soul of a snake. She had charmed him and bewitched him, turning him into a man possessed. He wanted to marry her and have children with her—three boys to help him run the business once they were old enough. That’s what happened when you started trusting a woman—she turned on you and stabbed you in the back. And he’d be damned if he let the damn skank get away with it.
The minute Anton set his foot outside of jail, he put the wheels in motion to make Mila pay. He still had people loyal to him and Jessy had come through. Now there was a loyal woman—he’d been an idiot to put her aside for Mila. Jessy did everything he’d asked, delivering Mila on a platter to him. But Anton wasn’t going to stop there. Dennis Walker and Janet Maple were next on his list. Jessy came through again—it had been Jessy’s plan to use Mila as bait to get Dennis and it had worked like a charm. Now that pompous buffoon Dennis Walker had joined Mila, tied up in Anton’s warehouse. Janet Maple was next—Anton was sure she was going to come after her sweetheart and her precious little dog. He’d planned to keep the entire thing secret from Uncle Petr until he had all three and then present him with the surprise. But now his plans had hit a snag.
“Anton, Anton?”
Anton was so deep in his thoughts he didn’t notice he and his uncle were the only people left in the room and his uncle was calling him. “Uncle Petr, I’m sorry. I was just thinking,” he said quickly.
“What’s the matter, son? Something’s bothering you?” The old man looked at him with concern.
Anton smiled at Petr’s affection—even though Anton wasn’t his son, Petr often addressed him as such. It meant the world to Anton when he and Roman were left fatherless as little boys and it still meant the world to him now. Anton’s father had never been a part of the family business—he stopped speaking with Petr once Petr had ‘turned to the dark side,’ as he used to say of his brother. Instead, Anton’s father worked construction for a petty wage only to be in constant debt and die just as meaninglessly as he had lived when a poorly secured harness had caused him to tumble down from a construction beam. The day his father died, Anton decided to follow in Uncle Petr’s footsteps—he’d seen only too well what happened when one tried to make an honest living. “It’s nothing, Uncle Petr. I was just thinking.”
“About?” Petr prodded.
“About Pierce,” Anton said cautiously.
“That’s Mr. Pierce to you,” Petr corrected him sharply.
“Why did you let him talk to you that way, Uncle Petr?” Anton asked, hurt by Petr’s sharp tone.
Petr’s face assumed a stern expression Anton had seen Petr use on people who’d come to beg his forgiveness for some great offense. “Silence, you stupid boy! I thought you were smarter than this. I’ve brought you up as my own, gave you everything—” Petr broke off. “Perhaps I made a mistake. Perhaps I should’ve put stock in Vladimir. He spent most of his life on a farm, but at least he knows enough not to ask stupid questions, which is something you could learn from him. Ed’s been real pleased with him.”
At the mention of his distant cousin, who’d been recently transplanted from the deep outskirts of their home country, Anton’s face twitched with contempt. How could his uncle even compare him to that hillbilly who until a few months ago had been herding goats somewhere deep in the Czech countryside?
“Why do you think we got out of jail, Anton?” Petr asked, as though talking to a five-year-old.
“Because you still have friends on the outside, Uncle,” Anton said sheepishly.
“And who do you thi
nk those friends are?”
“That Kovar name carries great respect. You have many friends—”
Petr scoffed. “I also have many enemies who were only too glad to see me rot behind bars. Once the word got out I was locked up, I lost most of my businesses.”
“Uncle, I still have a few properties,” Anton countered. He’d held on to a few buildings, including the warehouse where he was keeping Dennis and Mila, which he’d bought under Jess’s name without her knowing. He held the titles to the properties but they were in her name. “What’s mine is yours.”
“You should’ve told me about this before, Anton. You knew we had to give account of everything to Ed.” Petr shook his head. “Ed is not going to like this. You’d better tell him about it before he finds out.”
“How’s he going to find out? They’re bought in someone else’s name—a girl I used to see.”
“Sooner or later Ed finds out everything, and he always keeps a grudge. If you don’t tell him, I will.”
“Uncle Petr, you wouldn’t do that to me—”
“I would,” Petr cut him off. “For your own sake. You’re a silly boy who thinks himself a man and has no idea what he’s dealing with. What have you got, a couple of buildings? I know you couldn’t have bought more because I paid you your cut. I lost hundreds of millions and Edward will let me get it back. Not out of the kindness of his heart, mind you, but because I owe him money. Too much is at stake to risk upsetting him over a couple of measly properties.”
“How can you owe him money? I’ve never seen you talk to him before.”
“That’s because you weren’t supposed to. Ed Pierce runs our world and we all pay our share. In exchange we get order and protection. The moment I was in jail, I wasn’t able to pay him, and let me tell you, Ed charges a high interest.”
“So now he owns us?”
“That’s right, son. You’ve always been quick on the uptake. Ed owns everything I used to own until I pay him back. In the meantime he’s gonna let me run my old businesses and if I don’t pay him back in the time he told me, I’m out.” The way Petr said the word ‘out’ made it clear he meant more than just being out of the job.
“But why let him push you around like that? Can’t you take his place?” Anton demanded. “We still got loyal men—”
“Shh!” Petr looked terrified. “Don’t you dare say such things. No one’s got enough men to go against Ed Pierce. And if anyone tried, Ed would know about it before the man thought of it himself. So you listen to me, Anton, you gotta come clean about those buildings you hid from Ed. You hear me?”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Good. I’ll arrange a meeting with Ed so you can tell him everything yourself.” Petr eyed him shrewdly. “You’re not hiding anything there, are you? You wouldn’t have anything to do with this kidnaping business, would you?”
Anton felt fear run through his veins—he could tell that if he were to confess to his uncle, he’d give him up to Pierce without as much as an afterthought. “No, uncle. This the first time I’ve heard of it. I got nothing to hide.”
“Good.” Petr looked squarely at Anton. “If I find out you had anything to do with this, Anton, I won’t be able to help you. I doubt God himself would be able to save you from the fate that would await you, son.”
“I swear to you, uncle. I got nothing to do with it.”
“I believe you, son. I’d like to believe you. I sure as hell hope you’re not going to disappoint Ed. I’ve seen him boil a man alive once—that’s what Ed Pierce does when he’s disappointed.” Without another word, Petr Kovar left the room.
Anton’s armpits and back were drenched with cold sweat. He had to clean up his tracks, fast, before Pierce got wind of things.
Chapter 17
Anton cautiously looked side to side as he closed the door to his room behind him and stepped out into the hallway. Since the jail escape, he’d been staying with his uncle and cousin at one of Ed Pierce’s buildings in Park Slope, Brooklyn. As Pierce had put it, the best place to hide was out in the open and he’d been right. The busy neighborhood made it easy to get around unnoticed—a pair of shades and a baseball cap made you invisible in a crowded street. As long as no one squealed on them from the inside, Anton was sure they were safe. All those police officers patrolling the streets were too busy looking for doughnut shops. Whenever he watched TV crime reports about criminals being turned in, it was always because their so-called friends ratted them out.
Anton couldn’t complain about their current digs—Pierce had put them up in a swanky loft with plenty of room. But accepting charity from Pierce didn’t sit well with him from the beginning, and after the way Pierce had treated Petr last night, Anton felt as though he were locked in a gilded cage. Most of all, Anton had been hurt by the way his uncle had treated him. Up until now, he’d trusted his uncle implicitly, certain he’d always be on his side, but he wasn’t so sure of it now. And, worse, he wasn’t so sure about his uncle’s standing, which wasn’t turning out to be nearly as powerful as he had thought it to be. What he was sure of was that he had to clean up the mess he’d created.
He patted the gun in the holster under his arm and felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite his bravado, he’d never actually killed a man. Sure, he’d smacked people around, scaring the living daylights out of them, but he’d always left the dirty work to his uncle’s henchmen. He claimed it was to keep his record clean and his uncle agreed with him, but the truth was the thought of aiming a gun at a man and pulling the trigger terrified him. But now he had no choice. It wouldn’t be long before that jackal Pierce was going to sniff out the truth about Mila and Dennis. If Anton left them alive, soon it would be him staring at the business end of a gun.
“Going somewhere, son?”
Anton nearly jumped at the sound of his uncle’s voice, but managed to keep his cool. “Good morning, uncle. I didn’t see you behind me.” He smiled easily—a loyal nephew who had nothing to hide and was happy to see his uncle.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Petr eyed him top to bottom.
“I was just going to check on those properties of mine I mentioned to you. Want to make sure everything is in order.”
“You do that. Take care of your business,” Petr added in a tone that made Anton feel as though he was reading right through him. “We have a meeting with Ed tonight at eight o’clock. It’s about a different matter, but you should use the opportunity to come clean about the properties. Yes?”
“Yes, Uncle Petr.” Anton saw there was no use arguing with the old man. It galled him to have to grovel before Pierce like some school boy, but he had no choice—it was either that or strike out on his own. He thought about that, but decided against it—having both Pierce and cops gunning after him would be too much to handle.
“You got something to cover your face?” Petr asked.
Feeling like a five-year-old, Anton held up a pair of shades and a baseball cap.
“Good.” Petr nodded approvingly. “Don’t be late for our meeting with Mr. Pierce tonight.”
“I won’t.” Anton turned around to leave.
“And Anton—”
“Yes?” Anton looked over his shoulder.
“I love you like a son, but I can’t protect you from Ed Pierce—no one can.” After a long, hard look, Petr turned around and walked back up the stairs.
The old man is turning soft in the head, Anton thought. Either that or he was never as powerful as he held himself out to be. This was a new and unwelcome development for Anton. For the first time in his life he didn’t have anyone to look up to and that was hard. Suddenly he found himself lost like a dog without a master.
***
Dennis woke up from a daze he’d been in and out of all night—the closest he’d been able to come to sleep—and wiggled his hands in an attempt to get the numbness out. He’d been trying to conserve his strength and did his best to get some rest at night, but it was impossible to sleep tied up to a chair. He look
ed around the room and saw Mila stirring in her chair. Baxter was curled up in the corner, sleeping—one of the good things about being a dog was that you could sleep pretty much anywhere. Dennis tried to determine what time it was. The windows were hidden behind metal blinds, but he could discern a faint, gray light coming through, which told him it had be somewhere around five a.m. or so.
“Mila,” he whispered, “are you awake?”
“Yes. This isn’t exactly the Ritz to sleep in,” she quipped.
“Love your sense of humor. That’s the spirit,” he tried to cheer her up. “Never give, never surrender!”
“Isn’t that from Galaxy Quest?”
“I’m surprised you knew it. It’s one of my old favorites.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound encouraging considering that in the movie this motto belonged to a total idiot.”
“An idiot who changed his ways and ended up a hero in the end,” Dennis pointed out. “So, never give up, never surrender!”
“Rah-rah. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I got it.”
Dennis thought it best to abandon his failed attempt at brightening up the mood. Things were looking pretty grim. Their hands were tied and they were locked up without having any idea where they were or how to escape. Still, he wasn’t going to lose hope—once that was gone, it would really be over. “Tell me, do they give you food in this place?”
“Bread and water, twice a day.”
“So Anton wasn’t kidding about that, huh? Who brings it over?”
“Jess.”
“I’m going to try to talk to her.”
“I don’t recommend it. In case you’ve forgotten, I tried it yesterday,” Mila said pointedly.
Dennis nodded, noticing the black and blue on her face, which had gotten worse overnight. “I’ll give it a try. Maybe she’ll respond differently to a guy. What time does she usually come over?”