Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4)

by Marie Astor

  “Janet, wait—”

  “I’ll be careful, Ham. Cover for me in case Marshal Burke comes back snooping around.”

  ***

  To avoid traffic, Janet took the subway. Williamsburg was only a few stops from Downtown Manhattan, and thirty minutes later she was at the address Philip had given her.

  “Am I too late?” she asked, as Philip let her inside.

  “No. They are still in the planning stage. Fred wasn’t too happy about you coming, by the way. I had to talk him into it,” Philip added. “Come on. I’ll take you over to where all the action is.”

  They walked up a flight of dilapidated stairs and Philip opened the door leading into a room filled with junk. There was broken furniture everywhere. The windows looked like they hadn’t been washed in ages, and there was dust and debris all over the floor.

  Fred stood by the window, looking through a state of the art telescope. He had a radio in his hand. “Anyone see you come in?” he asked without turning his head.

  “No. At least I don’t think so,” Janet answered.

  “Good. We have ten men on the ground, ready to go. My team has been working on this round the clock. We only just got audio less than an hour ago. These old buildings are tricky, but we finally calibrated the equipment to reduce interference. From what we’ve been able to gather, Dennis, Mila and Baxter are all fine. Roughed up, but fine. Dennis is planning an escape and we are going to help him. That dog of yours is very resourceful—he chewed through the restraints. Have a listen.”

  Fred turned up the volume and Janet’s heart jumped in her chest at the sound of Dennis’s voice.

  ***

  “Good boy,” Dennis whispered, as Baxter’s teeth grinded at the ropes. “Good boy. Keep going. Don’t give up.”

  “How much longer?” Mila asked. “Anton usually comes around this time. He could be here any minute.”

  “He’s almost there.” Dennis could feel the restraints loosening up from the impact of Baxter’s teeth. He pulled his wrists apart, tugging at the ropes, but they still wouldn’t budge. Baxter squealed, clearly exhausted. “Come on, buddy. Don’t give up,” Dennis urged, and Baxter put his teeth back to work.

  Several minutes later, Dennis felt the ropes give way and pulled his arms apart—the ropes fell off and he shook his hands freely. “Good boy, Baxter!” He exclaimed, lifting Baxter up and kissing him right on the muzzle. Then he put him back down and rushed toward Mila.

  “Now what?” Mila asked. “We don’t have the keys to get out of here.”

  “Anton is going to let us out.”

  “I highly doubt that,” she snapped.

  “I’m going to loosen your ropes and we’re going to wait for Anton to come. Then we’ll ambush him when he comes in, and we’ll walk out of here.”

  “Do you really think you can take him on?”

  “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  “He’s got a gun,” she warned him.

  “Yeah, but he won’t be expecting my hands to be free, so I got that going for me. Besides, it’s not like we have lots of options to choose from. It’s either this or nothing. So you’re in? Or would you rather stay here and continue lovely conversations with Jessy?”

  “Quit talking and untie me already,” Mila grumbled.

  Dennis loosened her ropes, but left them around her wrists. “Keep the rope tight so it still looks like you’re tied up,” he instructed her.

  “Hurry, I think he’s coming,” she whispered. There was a sound of approaching footsteps behind the door.

  Dennis sprang back to his chair and wrapped the ropes around his wrists. Moments later the door opened and Anton and Jess walked inside the room.

  “Leave the light off,” Anton said gruffly, as Jess moved for the light switch.

  “That’s fine with me, boss.” Jess stood aside, her legs in a wide stance.

  Dennis instantly knew something was off. Yesterday when Anton had roughed them up, he’d been talkative and full of swagger. But today he was quiet, looking like a beaten-up dog. He seemed to be working up a resolve to something that went beyond threats, punches and humiliation. Dennis could feel it in his gut—something he’d never felt before—a cold, ominous sensation telling him it was life or death. He tensed up in his chair, like a coiled up spring, waiting for release.

  Anton stood in the middle of the room. “As much as I enjoyed having you here as my guests, the time has come for us to say goodbye.” Anton’s hand moved up his chest and Dennis saw a gun holster there. Now was the time to act.

  Dennis sprang to his feet, grabbed his chair, and threw it at Anton with all his might, knocking him off his feet. As though in slow motion, Dennis saw Jess pull out her gun, but he was quicker, as he ducked and used Anton’s body as a shield. There was a gun shot and Dennis felt Anton’s body shake with the bullet’s impact.

  Jess screamed, “Anton, baby! I’m so sorry.” She aimed her gun squarely at Dennis. “I’ll kill you for what you did to my Anton. You slime.”

  Quick as lightning, Dennis reached for the holster underneath Anton’s arm. He grabbed the gun and pulled the trigger, firing right through Anton’s jacket. There was a shot and Jess fell to the ground.

  Mila got out of her chair and ran toward Jess. Quickly, she grabbed Jess’s gun. “Stay down,” Mila muttered, kicking her with her foot.

  “Tie her hands,” Dennis instructed Mila. “I’ll take care of Anton,” he added. Dennis took Anton’s gun and put it in his back pocket. Then he grabbed the ropes and bound Anton’s wrists as tightly as he could. He looked through Anton’s pockets and found the keys. “I got the keys. Let’s get out of here before the other Kovars show up.”

  Dennis dragged Anton’s body across the room towards Mila and Jess. Anton’s wound was in the shoulder, but he’d passed out probably from the pain and the shock. Dennis took a look at Jess’s wound—it was serious—the bullet had hit her chest. It had missed the heart, but might’ve hit a lung—he wasn’t sure.

  “We need to get help ASAP,” Dennis grunted under Anton’s weight. “Can you carry her?” he asked Mila.

  “I got it.” Mila bent down to heave Jess up on her shoulder.

  “You snake,” Jess whispered.

  “Oh, shut up.” Mila pulled her up. “Save your strength—you’ll need it.”

  Dennis opened the door and moved as quickly as he could into the dark hallway—Anton’s heavy body was slowing him down. Mila followed him, dragging Jess on her shoulder. Baxter tiptoed behind them.

  “Which way do you think is out—left or right?” Dennis whispered to Mila.

  “I have no idea,” she panted back under Jess’s weight.

  “Let’s try right,” Dennis decided.

  Just as they started to move, Baxter barked and Dennis stopped, signaling to Mila to do the same. He listened intently. There was a distant sound of footsteps heading in their direction. Dennis propped Anton’s body against the wall and firmly grabbed the gun from his back pocket.

  With Anton back on his shoulder, Dennis started to slowly move ahead. If there was going to be an ambush, he’d use Anton as a shield, just as he’d done before. “Keep behind me,” he whispered to Mila over his shoulder.

  The footsteps grew louder and Dennis tensed up. He wasn’t going to go down easily.

  “Dennis Walker, Mila Brabec,” a male voice called out, “we’re with Philip Barrett—we’re here to get you out.”

  Dennis felt a wave of relief flood over him and lowered his gun. The bearing and the voices of the silhouettes in the hallway were nothing like those of the thugs who worked for the Kovars. These were private contractors and they were there to get them out.

  Within seconds the team had reached them and started helping Dennis and Mila to their feet.

  Dennis pointed at Jess. “This woman needs urgent medical care. Her wound is serious.”

  “You bastard,” Anton woke up from his slumber, “you shot my Jessy. Let go of me,” Anton bellowed, as two muscled guys picke
d him up as though he weighed less than a feather. “I’m not going to tell you nothing.”

  “You’re going to tell us everything,” Dennis said. “And you’ll do it with a smile.”

  Dennis could see the sunlight coming through the open door. Maybe his eyes were playing a trick on him, but he thought he saw a familiar outline. Once he saw that Mila was being taken care of, he picked up Baxter from the ground and rushed toward the light, eager to get to the familiar figure he thought he saw waiting for him.

  “Janet,” he murmured, his legs almost giving way beneath him.

  “Dennis!” Her face lit up, as she flew toward him.

  “Ma’am, please stay back till we’ve secured the area,” one of the contractors tried to stop her, but she ignored him and moments later she was in Dennis’s arms.

  “Dennis, you’re all right,” she whispered, touching his face as though to make sure.

  “I am,” he whispered. “Thanks to you.”

  “And thanks to Baxter.”

  Baxter barked, eager to receive credit.

  Janet scratched Baxter’s ear. “You can chew up as many toys as you’d like, buddy.”

  “I’ll make sure he has a never-ending supply.” Dennis laughed, tears of joy in his eyes. He held Janet tight, inhaling the smell of her hair.

  “Kiss me already,” she murmured.

  “You forget—I was locked away for over twenty four hours without any conveniences. I have a case of pretty bad breath.”

  “I don’t care,” she retorted, pressing her lips against his.

  “Now that’s real love,” he murmured.

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  Dennis drew Janet close to him and did as he was told. All his stupid doubts had vanished, and he knew he wanted nothing more than to marry Janet and spend the rest of his life with her.

  Chapter 19

  Anton Kovar straightened his jacket as he walked toward Ed Pierce’s building. The FBI had provided him with a designer suit made of shiny black cloth that only a kingpin or a pimp would wear. It was too late to find another outfit, so Anton was stuck with the monkey suit. He just hoped it wasn’t going to give him away. He’d been pumped full of drugs, and while the pain in his shoulder had been temporarily put into submission, his head felt heavy and groggy. The pin in his tie held a camera and a microphone, both the size of a pencil eraser, camouflaged behind a fake sapphire stone. He’d been told that Pierce would never spot it. In fact, there was no reason for Pierce to get suspicious unless Anton gave himself away. He’d been told to act naturally—easy for the FBI bureaucrats to say—they weren’t the ones facing the prospect of being boiled alive or some other sick death Pierce might envision if Anton was discovered. As scared as he was, Anton had taken the deal. In exchange for a reduced sentence for him and complete immunity for Jess, he’d promised to provide incriminating evidence on Pierce. The FBI agents were on standby, listening in through the bug planted in Anton’s tie pin, ready to move in at a moment’s notice and arrest Pierce once they had the evidence they needed. At least that’s what they had promised and Anton sincerely hoped it was the truth.

  Anton waited for the door to open and was greeted by his cousin, Vladimir, as servile as ever.

  “Are you feeling all right, Anton? You’re looking a little pale,” Vladimir noticed. “I have a wonderful herbal potion my mother gave me—”

  “I’m fine,” Anton cut him off. “I got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

  “Of course, I understand. Uncle Petr and Mr. Pierce are already here. I’ll take you over to them.”

  Anton followed Vladimir down the corridor, doing his best to act naturally. Despite the painkillers, the pain in his shoulder started to return, but he forced himself to ignore it and soldiered on.

  “Here we are,” said Vladimir, opening the door to the same room where Pierce had held court the day before. As before, Pierce’s bodyguards flanked the room entrance, but weren’t allowed inside. Pierce considered matters discussed with the Kovars to be too private for their ears—an omission that was going to play into Anton’s hands. At least he’d have a few extra seconds before Pierce’s bodyguard gorillas would burst through the door and dismember him should things go south.

  After closing the door behind him, Vladimir humbly took a seat on a chair in the far corner of the room.

  Anton slowly walked inside and took stock of the surroundings. This time there was no bottle of Becherovka or herring on the large wooden table and the faces were much more somber. Anton was somewhat relieved by the absence of Becherovka—he wasn’t sure it would’ve agreed with all the painkillers he’d consumed and the thought of herring was enough to turn his stomach. The somber faces, however, instantly set off an internal alarm.

  Edward Pierce was seated behind the table with Petr to his right. Anton’s brother Roman sat next to Uncle Petr. Marshal Burke was there also, seated to Pierce’s left.

  “Anton, finally! We were starting to get worried,” his Uncle Petr greeted him and kissed him on both cheeks.

  Anton smiled and didn’t say a thing—he wasn’t even late, but he knew better than to contradict his uncle.

  “Have a seat.” Petr motioned to a seat next to Roman—it wasn’t Anton’s regular seat, which had always been next to Uncle Petr, but again Anton didn’t argue.

  He nodded and took the seat he was given, feeling all eyes focused on him. Anton took a long last look at his family—what he was about to do would be considered a great betrayal and would dishonor his name forever, but he didn’t have a choice. His options were to either sell out his uncle and brother or face Ed Pierce’s rage and Anton had already made his decision. He doubted his uncle or his brother would’ve chosen differently—when it came to it, everyone was out to save their own skin. He could only think of one person who would’ve chosen differently—Jess. She’d been ready to kill for him—her bullet had accidently hit Anton, but Anton knew Jess had been aiming for Dennis Walker. While Anton’s wound was only a flesh wound, Jess had been nearly killed because of him. He couldn’t abandon her now.

  Ed Pierce rapped his knuckles against the table. “Now that everyone is here, we can begin. I have good news. I was able to call upon my contacts and the investigation into this alleged kidnapping nonsense has been put on hold.”

  Uncle Petr exhaled loudly. “That’s wonderful news, Ed. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am to you.”

  “It’s not me you should be thanking, Petr. It’s Tom here,” Pierce motioned at Burke. “We’re most grateful for your assistance in this matter.”

  “I’m glad I could take care of this for you, Ed,” Burke’s voice rang with self-importance. “There was some paperwork irregularity, so now it will take a few extra days to get the necessary resources. Hopefully by then there won’t be much left to find.”

  “You’ll get to the bottom of this, Tommy?” Pierce asked, looking concerned. “I don’t like idle rumors. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

  “Of course Ed. I’m looking into this matter personally. I have another questioning session set up with Janet Maple—she’s the primary witness. She appears to be cooperative, but I believe she’s hiding something. I’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll knock it out of her if I have to.”

  Pierce nodded. “That’s the kind of dedication I hold very dear. Thank you, Tom.”

  Despite the increasing pain in his shoulder, Anton struggled to keep a grin off his face. He could hardly believe his luck. He hadn’t even said a word, and already he’d gotten Burke’s admission of guilt on tape.

  “I believe this meeting can be adjourned.” Pierce started to get to his feet.

  Anton hesitated—if he was going to keep his deal with the feds, he had to act now. But suddenly the prospect of betraying his family didn’t seem so easy. He shot a quick glance at his uncle and brother. What if the three of them were to flee? Forget Pierce, forget the FBI. They could go back to the old country and hide out in the countryside. The only thing st
opping him was the image of Jess. He’d seen her being lifted into the ambulance, IV bags hanging off of her; her face paler than death itself. The bullet had pierced her lung. He’d been told her chances were good, but how could he be sure? For all he knew, Jess could be dead already.

  “Ed, Anton has something to tell you,” Petr spoke quickly. “It won’t take long.”

  Anton shot a quick glance at his uncle, shocked by his betrayal. Any reservations he might have had until this moment had vanished completely.

  “I believe I should be going,” Burke said uneasily, “this sounds like a personal matter.”

  “Stay,” Pierce stopped him. “There are no secrets here, especially when we’ve got the FBI on our tail. What is it you’d like to tell me, Anton?” Pierce asked in a voice that was soft as silk.

  “It’s a small matter—an omission,” Anton began. “I apologize in advance for not bringing it up to you earlier and hope for your generosity and understanding.”

  “In my experience, small matters are the most serious ones. Let’s hear it.” Pierce’s blank gaze burrowed into Anton.

  “I just discovered that I still own two warehouses in Williamsburg. The properties are in horrible condition and are nothing to speak of—”

  “You have an interesting definition for ‘a small omission’,” Pierce said in a voice that was terrifying with its calmness.

  “The title isn’t even in my name. Until today, I wasn’t even sure I still had claim. As I’ve said, the buildings themselves aren’t worth much. The land is the only thing of value there— I would’ve brought this up sooner, but I didn’t know if the titles would hold. I bought them in my ex-girlfriend’s name.”

  The room grew icy with silence, as Pierce stared at Anton with fish-like eyes.

  “I’d never lie to you, Mr. Pierce,” Anton said humbly.

  “You already have,” Pierce pointed out. “Omission is as bad as lying.”

  “I swear,” Anton squealed, “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think the titles were good. Of course those buildings are yours, Mr. Pierce.”