by Lulu Astor
Ian, also fluent in French, knew Daniel told Lucien that hopefully they wouldn’t meet again. He hadn’t known Daniel was multilingual, however. The man never ceased to amaze him.
Once they get outside, Ian turns to Daniel. “Now what?”
Flashing him a beaming smile, Daniel says, “Our friend is a terrible liar, Ian. He just found out, via Natasha, that one of the brothers is his biological father.”
Ian’s mouth drops open in astonishment. He starts to ask Daniel how he knows but thinks better of it just in time. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Did you not see his face when I asked if they had children? It was written all over it. I got the sense he just found out or he’d be more comfortable with the knowledge. He’s probably worried, too, that if the truth comes out, he could lose his fortune to his French father’s genuine blood heirs, if any exist. I don’t know about French law but in the U.S. he’d be protected since a legal father is the one who raises the child… but where so many millions are involved, you never know.”
At that moment, Ian’s ringtone blares loudly from his pocket. He looks at it. “Ella,” he tells Daniel. “Hey there,” he answers.
“Ian, thank God! I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I was worried about you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Ella. I was planning to call you once we finished with Lucien. We’ve only just now left him.”
There’s a pause as she digests this information. “I hope you don’t mind but I gave Maya your cell number.”
“Maya?”
“Yes. Maya St. Sauveur? Lucien’s half-sister.”
“May I ask why?”
“I called her to see if she knew anything more about the Sobels. She promised to ask her mother for any more info and get back to you. Since she’s in New York and so are you, I thought it might be worth it to get together with her.”
“I see. Where are you now?”
“Home, where I promised I’d be. Where exactly are you?”
“As I said, Daniel and I just left Lucien’s loft. He was alone and didn’t know where the men were but said they were with Natasha. Ella, I have another call I need to take. I’ll call you a little later, okay?”
“Okay. I love you, Ian.”
“Love you, too. Talk soon.” He clicked on the next call.
“Yes,” his answered tersely.
The voice on the other end was loud enough for Daniel to hear both sides of the conversation. “Mr. Blackmon. I have that name you asked me to obtain. It’s Greshenko, Gregori Greshenko.”
“Very good,” he replies brusquely, a man of few words, and disconnects without so much as a goodbye. Ian’s employees and business colleagues are used to his ways and no longer take offense at the lack of civility.
Quickly, he punches in his grandfather’s Phoenix number. “Grandpa,” he says as the man answers on the second ring. “It’s Ian. I have the name you asked for, our Russian friend? It’s Gregori Greshenko. Ring any bells?”
The call lasts a little less than three minutes but it is enough: Ian’s face looks grim when he disconnects. He turns to Daniel. “This whole thing began with a case of my grandfather’s. He asked me to get him Natasha’s grandfather’s name. I just checked with him: he says Greshenko was bad news from A to Z. Not only was he supplying high-tech assault weaponry to terrorists and other enemies of state, he was also moving large quantities of heroin and synthetic drugs throughout suburban America. I just happened to read a New York Times article about the latter drugs: they cause severe psychosis and astonishingly are largely legal. Once the government acts to ban one, the chemists change a single molecule of the formula, a single fucking molecule, and voila! It’s a new drug and it’s legal again. The majority of proceeds from selling this shit generally fund terrorism against western countries. On the ground, the tainted drugs cause numerous deaths and other problems associated with them.
“At the time of his arrest and internment, Greshenko was also being accused of getting into human trafficking—actually helping to bring slaves into the United States from other areas of the world, channeling them through counterparts in Saudi Arabia. A real charmer all around.
“My grandfather said that by the time he was deported, Greshenko had both the Colombians and Mexicans after him for turf incursion with regard to the heroin, and the synthetic drugs were cutting into cartel profits on more traditional drugs. Greshenko was trying to move out of drugs—hence the human trafficking—to get the cartels off his back. The Feds should have let them have a go instead and that would have been the end of it—at least for the Blackmon family.
“Did he make any suggestions as to how to deal with them? Legal suggestions, that is?”
Ian shakes his head. “How could he? There are too many of them to get deported right away anyway. There are these three plus her mother and brother. Who knows? There may be even more—my security peeps are looking into that as we speak.”
“Good. We don’t want to leave any stone unturned, Ian. You have decisions you have to make, the biggest one being whether or not we get our hands dirty.”
Ian nods. “I need to make phone calls.”
“Come on. I’ll take you to my house—I can work from there.”
To the casual observer, they are a couple of executive-types sharing a conversation, not friends with brilliant minds deciding the most effective way to eliminate their enemies. Others know differently, however. As the men in suits start down the block, two swarthy brothers and a shifty-eyed blond turn the corner and are coming right at them. Daniel looks at Ian, “Not here, out in the open, in broad daylight. We need some kind of cover.”
Both men begin to cross the street to avoid confrontation but down the block, the three stalkers follow suit.
Ian and Daniel continue strolling casually while the brothers and Natasha travel directly into their path. About fifteen feet away, the Lithuanians slow down, take a long look at Ian and veer off in another direction, leaving Natasha alone, smiling as she closes in. Daniel whispers quickly to Ian.
“You’ve just been made, Ian. They wanted to see what you look like. From here on in, you need to watch your back very carefully.”
His expression grave, Ian nods as they reach the blond woman. She wears a smile that looks joyously triumphant, making Ian’s guts seize up in hot fury. Hatred is not strong enough a label for what he now feels for this treacherous conniver.
She very obviously trails her eyes up and down Daniel, clearly appreciating the cut of his dark coffee-colored suit. “Well, now, Ian. Please introduce: I’m always looking for a new pretty boy with whom to play.”
Sneering his contempt, Ian responds. “Does he look desperate to you?”
Flipping her head back to toss her long hair off to one side, she sneers. “Oh, now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings. Are you jealous perchance?”
He doesn’t dignify her comment with a response, even a nonverbal one. Over the years Ian has honed the practice of ignoring nuisances to an art form. The men continue to walk right past her.
She calls back. “I think you’re a sore loser, Ian… and make no mistake: in any competition with me, you will be the loser. That Alexis woman wasn’t up to the task but I surely am. And my uncles will be a lot more persuasive with your Ella than Lucien ever was, the pathetic creature.”
Spinning around, Ian is about to vent his spleen when Daniel grabs him by the shoulder and whips him back around, using his momentum to advance their progress. “Stop it,” he hisses. “You’re playing right into her hands with your anger. She already knows Ella is your Achilles’ heel—if you really want to piss her off, do not react.”
“Fuck me, I know! But let’s see you do it if someone threatens Olivia.”
“I’d expect the same sage counsel from you if the situation were reversed. I hope I can depend on it if the occasion ever arises.”
Taking a deep breath, Ian manages a small smile for his friend. “You can.”
When they reach Broadway
, Daniel hails a cab, tersely gives the driver his address and in eight minutes the taxi pulls in front of the stately brownstone.
As soon as they’re seated in the ground floor office, they begin to confer in hushed tones. “I think I have an idea as to how this thing can go with no blood on our side,” Daniel says.
“That would be good.” Ian pinches the bridge of his nose; he’s really tired of dealing with this crap. Leaving Ella alone and vulnerable is weighing heavily on him, and after reading her book, he wants to play with her more than ever, maybe even again venture into his little dungeon. Instead he’s sitting in a room in New York planning the annihilation of his enemies—enemies he’d done nothing, absolutely nothing to cultivate. What a ridiculous clusterfuck.
Daniel runs his hand through his hair, a sign of his own agitation, and begins to explain. “You need to see this out and get back to your life—you have a wedding to plan and business matters to see to. You don’t need this BS… and don’t deserve it. I imagine you also want to protect your grandfather from further harm, assuming Natasha and company were responsible for his car accident.”
Ian snorts in derision at the circumstances. “And I imagine you’d like to focus on your own upcoming nuptials and not my travails with Russian criminals.”
Making a dismissive gesture, Daniel smiles wanly. “My in-laws are taking care of everything for us.”
“You mean your future in-laws. Don’t claim them until you absolutely have to.”
“No,” a weighty sigh escapes Daniel’s lips as he rolls his eyes in mock despair and holds up his left hand to display the wedding band, “I’m afraid they’re already very much mine. Olivia and I were married at City Hall two weeks ago.”
Hesitant to elaborate, Daniel nonetheless continues in answer to Ian’s wordless query. “We were feeling insecure about each other’s level of commitment so we decided the only fix was to swear to a lifetime of one—no biggie.” He smiles broadly, thinking of how he’s understating the situation. “It’s made a surprising difference, a highly positive one. Plus, my father-in-law is making a huge effort to put our checkered past behind us, and bond with me, as well. That, of course, followed on the heels of a horrific confrontation between he and I, but we’ll skip the gory details of that unfortunate incident.” He looks Ian in the eye. “So you see, I’ve been busy, too.”
Chuckling in response, Ian reaches over to pat Daniel on the back. “I’m happy for you. Congratulations on your marriage. By the way, you do know it’s almost impossible to put one’s hands on a Girardi sculpture? The man’s work is untouchable.”
“Yes, I’m aware of his popularity. I’ll introduce you to him at my wedding celebration—if you’re able to make it—and you might bring it up then. He holds back some of his pieces to rework, so I know he has a few smaller ones in his UK studio.”
Ian leans back in the padded swivel chair and tries to unwind from the tension of the day. “Okay, so let’s have it. Your idea?”
Daniel makes the suggestion unemotionally—he might as well be discussing the weather. “You don’t want their blood on your hands—”
Ian interrupts, “Nor to break the law…”
Daniel shakes his head. “Provoking them to attack by merely standing up to them and then defending ourselves with mortal force is not against the law. Still, we don’t walk away with our hands clean. Here’s a better way: you mentioned the grandfather had both the Colombian and Mexican cartels after him. He had to be moving a great deal of product to get in their crosshairs. Let’s get in touch with both of those groups if we can and give them a few names of Grandpa’s friends eager to take over his business. They’ll take them all out—even the woman.” He holds up his finger to make his next point. “We must ensure, however, that Lucien is protected: annoyance that he is, he’s an innocent in this whole scenario. I wouldn’t want him injured or worse.”
Fingers pulling at his bottom lip, Ian contemplates the suggestion. “Go on. How do you propose contacting the appropriate people? I assume you don’t travel in the same circles as drug kingpins nor do I.”
“I was hoping your grandfather might point us in the right direction. After all, he must have dealt with unsavory types like that all the time. Even the lowly foot soldiers could be of massive assistance. We keep ourselves anonymous, make the suggestion attractive, provide the intel, and give a little push. It’s the best way all around.” He leans in closer to make his next point. “They want to kill you; they’re not content to hurt you financially, especially after you gave their son a beating. I want you to be very clear on that point.”
“Clear as glass. Fuck.” Ian rubs his eyes, frustrated that every option available to him will keep him awake at night. “Okay, I’ll call my grandfather. Let’s put this baby in motion.”
Nodding with grave satisfaction, Daniel rises. “I need to get some work done. You can use this office—I have another one off my bedroom suite. I’ll let our staff know you’re here. Please make yourself comfortable, Ian. Olivia will be home soon so you’ll get to meet my beautiful girl.”
“Good, I’d like to finally thank her in person for her hospitality… and I miss my own, so seeing yours will help. I especially miss Ella after reading her novel on the flight here.” He winks, grinning mischievously.
“So she is the same Ella Strong who wrote Three and a Half Weeks?”
“The same. She wrote it as a joke for her friends but it went wide without her knowledge or approval and before she knew it, it was a bestseller. They’re actually making a film of it.” He tosses his head back and laughs, knowing Daniel will see the truth behind the book.
Daniel didn’t disappoint. “I assume the antagonist is modeled after you then?”
“Naturally.”
Now it’s Daniel’s turn to laugh; Ian can’t remember ever seeing Daniel really laugh spontaneously. “Well, I suppose we have even more in common then. I had a girlfriend once upon a time who used to drag me to these private parties, a club of sorts. Very interesting activities, I have to say, and I did enjoy myself.”
“Aha. We’ll have to discuss it further someday.”
“Indeed. Now we have something else to look forward to. I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”
That night, as he lay in bed in Daniel’s guest suite, Ian reflected on the day’s events. A few hours after he and Daniel parted to work, they had dinner together, with Daniel’s wife, Olivia. All three of them were seated on one end of a vast stone table in the dining room, and Daniel had introduced Ian to his wife. They’d exchanged small talk about her father’s work, and her studies to be an architect.
Olivia was a beautiful young woman but Ian expected no less: Daniel had the looks and money—if not the winning personality—to ensnare any woman so why would he aim low? Olivia Girardi had beauty, charisma, and the smarts to keep a man like Daniel on a tight string. They seemed very well matched and happy to be with one another. Seeing them together made Ian yearn all the more for Ella.
It was just after they’d finished dinner that an awkward moment arose. Daniel reached over and grasped his wife’s hand. “Olivia, sweet… Micah told me you have Joseph’s number in Bangkok. True?”
The look on her face revealed a story: startled, embarrassed, and even a bit angry. She stuttered out a reply. “I have his new cell number, not a land line, but I haven’t spoken to him.”
Though his green eyes held fire, Daniel’s voice was as soft as melted butter. “That’s not why I’m asking, love. I need to speak with him. May I have the number?”
Seeing her hesitation, he was quick to reassure her. “I require information from him. If you prefer, you may place the call yourself. Okay?” He was still holding her hand and now he began to stroke it with his thumb.
She glanced nervously at Ian who only smiled warmly in response. “Um, okay. May I ask what this is about?”
“Nothing big. I’m just hoping he can put me in touch with people I need to contact.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, ju
st a smooth understatement of his real purpose. “I’d like to place the call now,” he prodded, checking his watch. “It’s just about seven a.m. there and I can more than likely catch him before he becomes inaccessible. Make the call. Now.”
He left no room for argument. Olivia retrieved her phone from her bag, and in seconds, handed her husband the phone. As soon as the connection went through, Daniel stood and waved Ian into the office off the main parlor. He began to speak into the phone even before they reached the room.
“Sorry to disappoint, Joseph, but it’s her husband… Yes, that’s what I said. We’re married. Just so you know, she placed the call so I’m not in possession of your number… but I don’t need to tell you that I don’t appreciate her having it. However, that’s not why I called… I need information. May I put you on speaker? I’m with a friend whose interests are at stake. Very good.”
Ian hears a deep voice resonating throughout the office as Daniel gestures for him to sit while easing himself down into a chair.
“Okay. Let’s have the details.” Terse, cold, deadly: those are the adjectives that spring to mind upon hearing the bloodless voice on the other end of the line.
Daniel launches into a succinct explanation of the events. “I need to be put in touch with both cartels in as anonymous a way as possible. I’d like to hand them some of their potential enemies on a silver platter…”
A pause follows, filling the small room with a tense silence. “Why would either cartel desire such information?”
Daniel shrugged. “Why not? These men had a predecessor who was pissing off both groups. I figure they may want to nip it in the bud before it gets off the ground.”
“Small potatoes. These kinds of nuisances aren’t worth the lead to kill them. You’ll have to come up with something better.”
“We’re trying to avoid getting the red stuff on our hands, Joseph. My friend is not comfortable with it going that way,” he looks over at Ian as he communicates this information to Joseph.