“Ja…I mean, Mike.”
I had to smile at his effort. This must as hard for him as it was for me.
He paused, as if unsure he wanted to continue.
I added, “All I can tell you is we have lots of money. And we’re doing good work. If you knew more, you’d agree.”
“So when are you going to tell me who you work for?”
“When you join us. Full time.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Not now you can’t.
He nodded and was quiet for maybe five seconds.
Then he asked, “Where do we go from here?”
“I think we’ve covered enough for one meeting. I have no idea what comes next.”
Chapter 23
When I got back to the ops center, I puffed up my cheeks and let the air out. Telling Gancha and Deek were much harder than I thought. The others closest to me could wait. Alena, maybe forever. Ron. Well, he was gone. At least I didn’t have to tell him.
All that reinforced my decision to not tell Sheila. She’d be hard pressed to keep it quiet. Such a scoop would be too tempting. I’d have to figure out a way to use her and not let her know.
Okay, brain. Time to get to work.
My own daughter, Alena, was a problem. The father part of me wanted dearly to let her know I was still alive. But the spy part of me was too afraid she’d tell someone. I’d have to deal with her later. I had enough on my plate right now.
I settled in my favorite chair in the planning room and pondered what I could do about Acorn’s two assignments. Somehow the two were related. Why else kill Jake unless he was getting too close to the truth for someone?
That someone appeared to be Ash Getner.
Frankly I didn’t trust the man. As the head of York’s Security Agency, he knew too much to be trusted. He had too many fingers in too many pies. And he was a spook, a liar.
I needed more information so I sent an email to Gancha.
“Can you ask your contacts if someone was involved in the shooting of Jake and Ron?”
She must have asked this question before, since she wrote back two minutes later, “I asked soon after they were killed. No gang or anyone I know was involved. That tells me it was a professional hit by someone outside Zor or maybe by a spook organization.”
She added, “I’ve decided to see you again.”
Her message had two good elements. For one, she had been curious months ago and had asked around. The fact that she thought it was a professional hit made sense. And I was happy to see her point the finger at a spy org.
The second part of her message was really great. She was interested in continuing our relationship.
That same evening, at the ops center, I got a post from Acorn.
“So far, all I know is Ash’s mother had an earlier marriage. Seeking more.”
That brought up another idea.
I sent an encrypted message to Vincent.
“Can you find out anything about Ash Getner’s history? I suggest you try YSA and even the federal government.”
#
But my spy boss beat him to it. I got an email from Acorn the next morning just as I was eating breakfast.
“Learned Ash Getner’s mother, Mary Beadley, was married for two years to Root Minsky, while she was student at Yale University.
“Know from another source that Root Minsky was father of Lewinokov Minsky, current head of QMR. Root died from skiing accident in Ural Mountains.
“QMR is top organization of Russian intelligence community. Lewinokov was head of VBS, operational side of QMR. Both Minsky and Statsov are on Upper Tier, ruling body of Russia. Rumors say Merinko Statsov will become next president of Russia.
“And here’s goodie. Getner made trip to Berlin five years ago and dropped out of sight.
“It looks like your suspicions may be correct.”
So Getner’s half-brother was Lewinokov Minsky.
#
Lewinokov Minsky watched the telly from his office in the State Kremlin Palace. The polls had shown the Russian citizens preferred to have a strong man in charge. He had himself pictured in that role.
He left his office accompanied by eight Secret Servicemen and took the express elevator to the second basement, where he got into his limousine. Doors slammed on three of the identical black stretch limos as his security detail entered them. Today, his limo was the third in line as they exited the palace. The rear windows of all the limos were darkened.
Ten minutes later, his entourage pulled into the basement entrance of the Kremlin No. 14 building. Minsky left his limo and six tall men in gray suits rushed up from the other limos to surround him.
Once inside the building two of the gray-suited men went with him on the elevator. The others stayed behind in the lobby. Minsky felt at home here since he had spent four years of his life rising in the ranks of the VBS.
Minsky held a seat on the Upper Tier, the supreme council of the Russian government. Three of the others had been handpicked by him. That left only five “independent” votes, three of which were loyal to Merinko Statsov.
Once settled into his old office chair, Minsky wasted little time. He pressed the intercom button to call in Borenko Turinski, his favorite axman. Born in eastern Poland in the town of Bialystok, the man showed ambition by taking any assignment from his boss. Any assignment.
When Turinski entered his office and closed the door, Minsky said, “I want Statsov dead within the week, before the next meeting of the Upper Tier. Make sure there are no traces to this office. Or you.”
#
Stater Gong had already been in California to visit with his parents when he got the message from Acorn.
The next day he took less than a day to pack his stuff since he didn’t have much. He felt naked without his holster and gun, but he knew weapons of any kind were forbidden on the flight from Los Angeles. He’d get whatever he needed when he arrived on Rossa. He traveled under the name of Alberto Schmidt, with passport and photo to match. Schmidt was an independently wealthy entrepreneur.
At Macapa, Brazil, he stepped on the cab of the space elevator.
Two hours later, he floated to the smaller transporter and strapped himself into a seat. Forty minutes later, he transferred to the larger cruise ship, while still in weightlessness. He opened the door to his private cabin in Second Class and pushed his only suitcase to the single bed. The black mesh cover over the front of the bed was pulled down. He’d need it when he slept.
It was too hot in his room, so he lowered the temperature in his quarters from seventy-five to sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit. He preferred to sleep cooler, saying it toughened him for operations when he might have to sleep outdoors.
It was a bitch to unpack his stuff while floating.
Not being much to talk, Stater spent most of his meals listening. That’s when he learned of a mysterious secret compartment in Third Class. Part of the space for passengers and for dining were taken up by panels without doors or windows. He overheard three different rumors of who their mysterious passengers were. The most prevalent rumor focused on a contingent of workers for a new company to be started on Rossa. But the rumor that caught his attention came from a small man who said he worked as an accountant for IBM before he emigrated. That man reported seeing men in military uniforms boarding the space elevator. And they spoke a language he thought might be from Eastern Europe.
Stater wished he could send a message to his boss, Acorn. But he’d have to wait until he arrived on Rossa.
But wait. Maybe there is a way.
Chapter 24
Deek Tanny sat in his inexpensive gray suit. He looked up to see who had invaded his office without knocking. A slender woman in a gray suit with skirt, wearing a white dress shirt open at her cleavage, stood in this doorway.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“Depends. Are you Captain Deek Tanny?”
He nodded.
“I’m Emily Mastar of the Ethics Committee and
I’m here to investigate you.”
That was the first Deek had heard anyone say those words to him. He had overheard the gossip in the break room that ‘the Master Bitch’ from EC was hot on his tail.
She added with stern and tight lips, “You are to remove yourself from this office─immediately. And don’t touch anything.”
Three men, wearing the civvies of EC, came from behind her. All were shorter than her. For a moment, he wondered if the EC recruited only short men and women because they would have something to prove by ferreting out taller cops who had crossed the line.
“Don’t touch anything,” she repeated.
He sat stunned for a moment.
“On whose authority?”
She brought out a piece of plastic and shoved it forward.
He had to reach up to grab it.
The document commanded him to cooperate with the Ethics Committee. And it was signed by the police chief himself.
Deek’s shoulders slumped.
So the rumor mill was spot on this time.
Being ever vigilant, he called the chief on his wrist comm to confirm.
“Sorry, Deek. She has presented good evidence.”
Deek disconnected from his comm and sighed. He rose from his chair.
Let her figure out how to handle this case.
He was about to walk out of his office when Mastar extended her hand.
“Your badge and your gun.”
Deek sighed. He pulled out his ID with its badge. From his holster in the small of his back, he pulled out his .38 and handed both to her.
“At this moment, you are on extended leave,” she added.
“Pay?”
She bowed her head and eyes and raised them as she nodded.
Deek walked out to the Pit as it was often called. Everywhere faces turned to him.
They must have seen her go into my office.
He walked by Barney Maston’s desk.
Barney looked down at the papers on his desk and said, “We’ll cooperate, but that’s all we’ll do.” Meaning they would obey the letter of the rules but not the spirit.
“We’re rooting for ya,” said Stu, Barney’s partner. “Nobody likes the Bitch.”
Deek allowed a short smile to cross his lips. Then he strode toward the elevator to head to his car.
#
As Emily Mastar settled into reading Deek’s latest emails, one caught her attention. It was from Unipol, back on Earth. York had an extradition treaty with the U.S., the nation from which the message came.
The subject of the email: Warrant for the arrest of Gancha Morentoss for the murder of Tenito Summar.
Not having any idea who this Morentoss was, she read on.
#
When Deek got into his car, he felt naked without his warrant card and gun. He was a common citizen now. Before he started the engine, he tagged Mike.
“Remember that help you promised me if IA ever got on my tail?”
“Yep,” Mike answered.
“Well, it happened. I saw the order from the chief himself and in my office right now are four people from the Ethics Committee. Including the Master Bitch herself.”
The old Internal Affairs had renamed itself the Ethics Committee. Every few years, they changed their name. Maybe it was to avoid the stigma of their older name but word quickly spread throughout both the Metro Police and the Zor Police departments. The EC reported to the chief of police himself, who ruled over all departments.
Deek continued.
“Do you know the name of a good defense attorney?”
“Let’s meet first. We can talk then.”
“Agreed,” added Deek.
“The usual place?”
“How soon?” asked the captain.
“Now’s a good time.”
#
Since it was close by, I went on foot in my jeans and white T-shirt. When I got to the outside chairs of Bagel Joe’s Deli, Deek had already taken a table. I took the seat on his left.
At the next table sat three teenagers. Two were girls who giggled a lot. The boy spoke of his adventures on a football team. I considered them harmless.
I mouthed the question to Deek, “Wire?”
Deek shook his head.
I covered my mouth so anyone with a long-distance lens couldn’t read my lips.
“Me too,” I said.
We trusted each other enough to tell if either was wearing a transponder. Even so, out of habit, I got out my comm and scanned. Nothing, except from the comms of the three teenagers at the next table and Deek’s comm.
“I’ll give you the number of Malcolm Patton. He’s my attorney. Expensive but the best in Zor, or all of York.”
I gave him Patton’s tag number and added, “Tell Patton to bill me for his services. He’ll understand.”
I remembered my offer to Deek back when I bribed him to lose the blood samples of one of my employees, Leanna. If Deek ever got the attention of IA, I’d come to his aid. That was when I was Jake.
“What can you tell me?”
“Don’t know much. Don’t even know why she’s after me.”
“Can you cover your mouth while speaking?”
He nodded.
“Do you think it could be from our previous deal?”
This time he remembered and covered his mouth.
“Could be. Probably was.”
“What does EC know?”
I could find out for myself, via Vincent, my computer hacker, but it might be easier to get it from Deek.
“I don’t know,” he acknowledged.
There goes the easy route.
“I’ll find out.”
I tagged Patton.
“Captain Deek Tanny of the Metro Robbery and Homicide Division was just suspended, pending an investigation. I’d like you to represent him. Send me the bill.”
“And who are you?”
Ah, I had not explained myself to Patton yet.
“I’ll stop by your office with Deek Tanny. When’s your next opening?”
He put me in touch with his assistant and I put the date and time into my schedule.
“I’ll be there.”
Then I looked at Deek and told him of the appointment.
“What are you going to do now?”
Deek stared off into space.
“Don’t know. Go home I guess. Marcie will want to know why I’m home and I have to tell her.”
“Will you,” I said, “tell her about your accepting a bribe?”
“Should I?”
I shook my head.
“I suggest you tell her you were suspended pending an investigation. You can tell her you can’t comment on the investigation. And leave it at that. If she bugs you for more, tell her you can’t comment.”
He paused. I could tell he was thinking it over.
“And remember, you can go to work for a private investigator firm. If she presses you for details, tell her it’s me. Pays better too. I know what cops make. Checked your salary too. I can pay much more.
“When we go to Patton’s office, better bring along something to read. We’ll probably have to wait.”
Chapter 25
I left the ops center an hour before the appointment with Malcolm Patton. This time I wore my gray suit. My Hatzu was designed by Indonesians and was built right her in Zor by workers at Hatzu Motors, Ltd.
I’d need the extra time to make one loop to check on any tails. After stopping off at Deek’s house to pick him up, I drove another loop and then directly to Patton’s office. I noticed Deek had on a similar gray suit.
Did he have many such suits in his closet?
As expected, we had a forty-five minute wait for the attorney. Waiting is not my best game.
I said in a whisper out the side of my mouth, “In case he asks, I am the half-brother of Jake Dani. We had the same mother named Mourine. I was also a good friend of yours. We’ve known each other for two years.”
Deek nodded.
I pulled up my ereader and read from the latest novel of Ralph Snyder, spy for the US Navy in NYC. Pretty cool, too.
“Misters Shapeck and Tanny,” announced the receptionist, a pretty thing with long straight blonde hair, yellow miniskirt, and pink sleeveless top. Her legs were shapely but were covered in total black. I mean solid black. She could have been wearing black leather for all I could tell. Someone should tell her about color coordination. But it could be the rave among the younger set. I hoped not.
We went into yet another waiting room.
There I was greeted by a young man who set off my gaydar. He wore pale blue—shirt, slacks, shoes. And eye liner. A dead giveaway.
The seats were empty, a good sign. We had to wait only ten minutes this time. I got ten pages into my novel.
“Mr. Patton will see you now,” said the young man.
Patton’s office was impressive with books lining two of the walls. The wall opposite his seat was filled with photos. From my brief glance I couldn’t tell who was in them. Probably politicians. We took the two guest chairs in front of his desk and stared at a large window showing the tall building next door. From the bars on its windows, I assumed it was the courthouse. It would make sense for his office to be next door. Easier walking.
He was a tall fellow with short hair. His barber must not like anything longer than a half inch. He wore a pink shirt with vertical white stripes and gray pants. No tie. Strong looking face. I wondered if his assistant out front was in love with him.
His grip was firm, real firm. His shoulders were wide and the way he filled out his shirt told me he worked out.
He got down to business right away. “Which one pays the bill?”
I raised my hand.
“Can you give me your contact information?”
I tapped my comm to his and transferred what he needed.
“Would you please step outside to my waiting room?” said Patton. “I need to talk privately with my client.”
I went to his outer office and took a seat. There, I sat for a little over an hour and a half and read the rest of the spy novel. Pretty cool ending. I daydreamed about it while I sat.
When Deek came out, he said, “Mr. Patton wants to talk with you.”
I went into the man’s office and took a seat.
Rebuilt: A Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Novel (Jake Dani / Mike Shapeck) Page 9