“The guy seems okay to me. He’s lost some weight, and he’s not sleeping so good. But he ain’t acting any different. He’s still the same old asshole. Hey, do you think I could get a beer now?”
“No. Finish your coffee and eat your sandwich. I told you. No more booze.” Nikolai lit a cigarette, never taking his eyes off the prison guard’s face. “Look, you’ve been doing a good job watching Pavel. Really. You’ve earned every penny I’m paying you. But things have changed, and I need you to take care of a problem for the Pakhan. He doesn’t want Pavel doing the interview with The Weekly Reporter.”
The mole didn’t react. He took a bite of his sandwich.
Nikolai slapped him across the face, trying to shock him back to life. “What are you hearing about the interview?” Nikolai said angrily.
Benito dropped his sandwich and rubbed his cheek. “Nothin’. I already told you everything I know about that producer who was in to see him the other day with Frankie. I know the Pakhan’s worried about what Pavel’s gonna say, but there’s nothin’ I can do about that television show. I can’t stop the interview.”
“But I think you can, Jimmy.”
“How? The warden’s approved it. He’s picked a location on H Block. He’s puttin’ up extra security cameras all along the route Pavel’s gonna take when we walk him from his cell to the interview room. And he’s handpicked a crack team of prison guards to make sure it all goes off smoothly. The place is gonna be locked down as tight as a drum. What do you want me to do about it?”
“I want you to silence Feodor.”
“What?”
“I want you to kill him.”
Benito licked his lips. “That’s not part of our deal, Mr. Stanislov. You’re paying me to snoop on him, not kill him. I’ve never murdered anybody before.” Benito’s hands began shaking as he reached for a cigarette.
“You don’t have a choice, Jimmy. The Pakhan wants him dead, and we both agree you’re our best option. O’Malley’s too stupid to stop him and has no way to get in there and kill him, so you have to come up with a plan and take him out.”
Benito gulped his coffee. “I can’t do it, Mr. Stanislov. I can’t. There’s no possible way. Please. You gotta find somebody else.”
“There is nobody else,” Nikolai said, pounding his fist on the table. “Yuri, I need you in here, now.” The door swung open and the bodyguard slipped into the room, sitting down next to the mole. “Say hello to Mr. Benito.” The big man smiled and unbuttoned his coat, exposing his Beretta 9mm handgun. “So, Jimmy, how are you gonna take care of our problem? Any ideas?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Stanislov. I need time to think. Shit, it ain’t gonna be easy.”
“You don’t have a lot of time,” Nikolai said, his eyes boring into the prison guard. “The interview’s next week. So you gotta get rid of him in the next couple of days.”
“And what’s in it for me? I’m taking all the risk here. If something goes wrong, it ain’t you goin’ down. It’s me.”
“How does fifty thousand dollars sound to you?”
Benito stared at Nikolai, his jaw dropping, his mouth agape.
“That’s a lot of money, Jimmy.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Stanislov. You’re asking me to kill somebody who’s been front page news. I think it’s worth a lot more than fifty grand. I think it’s worth at least a hundred.”
Nikolai leaned across the table. “Well, I can go back to the Pakhan and tell him you want more money, but he thinks fifty thousand dollars is more than fair. He’s not gonna be happy if I tell him you thought his offer wasn’t generous enough. What do you think he’s gonna say, Jimmy? Do you think he’s gonna be pissed?”
Benito glanced at Yuri and then back at Nikolai. Both men were staring at him, waiting. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it for the fifty. But I need a couple of days to come up with a plan.” He looked down at his cup of coffee. “I could really use a beer. Just one. I’m a little shaky on the inside. This was kinda unexpected.”
“Yuri, go get Jimmy a beer,” Nikolai said, sucking on a cigarette. “You need to call and let me know how you’re gonna do it, once you figure it out. Mr. Kolkov wants to make sure it’s done the right way. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”
Benito nodded as Yuri walked back into the room and placed a can of Bud on the table. Jimmy drained it all at once. “When do I get my money?”
Stanislov shoved an envelope across the table. “Here’s twenty-five thousand. You get the rest when Pavel’s dead.”
Jimmy stuffed the envelope into his breast pocket. “I need to go,” he said, trying to stand and collapsing back into his chair, light-headed from the beer and the whiskey.
“Now, now, Jimmy. Get a grip on yourself. I just made you a rich man. You should be happy.” Nikolai turned to his bodyguard. “Give him a hand, Yuri. He’s a bit shaky on his feet. Walk him back to his car and make sure he gets off without a problem.” He faced Benito. “Always a pleasure doing business with you,” he said, sticking out his hand. Then, without warning, he punched him in the pit of the stomach with the force of a jackhammer.
Benito collapsed to the floor, doubled up in pain.
Stanislov leaned over and whispered into his ear. “Listen to me, Jimmy. And listen to me real good. The Pakhan wants Feodor dead and he wants you to take care of it, and the sooner the better.” Then he gently patted Benito on the face and said to Yuri, “Get him the hell outta my sight. He’s a worthless piece of shit.”
The bodyguard yanked Benito off the floor and pushed him out the door.
Nikolai sat back down and flipped open the new burner. Then he punched in Kolkov’s telephone number. “Alexey, it’s done. I just gave the mole the money. He’s gonna take care of our friend.” He waited for a response but only heard a loud click as the Pakhan hung up the phone without saying a word.
Cursing, Nikolai pulled a fresh handkerchief from his coat pocket, mopped the sweat from his brow, and stormed out of the restaurant, knocking over the maitre d’ as he walked into a downpour.
It had finally started to rain.
Maybe now there’d be some relief from the heat.
CHAPTER 19
IT WAS SEVEN A.M., AND THE RAIN had finally stopped, leaving a dewy mist hanging over the city. Ethan was walking Holly down Fifth Avenue, trying to clear his head as she pulled him from one tree to the next. He thought about letting her run free in Central Park, but was too tired to chase her across the grassy meadows or through the wooded forests. Ignoring a sour taste in his mouth, he lit a cigarette and worried about his story. He had less than a week until his interview with Feodor, and he still hadn’t buttoned up the loose ends. His meeting with the heroin addicts had linked Pavel to the Russians, but he was still missing the key evidence he needed to prove the existence of a cover-up or reveal a conspiracy.
Questions. Questions. Questions.
And no time to nail down the answers.
Frustrated, he tossed his cigarette into the gutter and continued walking, trying to decide what to do next. He stopped to let Holly do her business at the base of a tree, then crossed the transverse at Eighty-Fourth Street and sat down on the steps in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a late-model black Lincoln Navigator as it slowly cruised by and pulled to a stop.
He stared at the car.
Had he seen it before?
Curious, he stood and slowly headed toward the Lincoln, noticing two big men sitting in the front, watching him intently. He kept walking, another block, pretending to ignore them, a cold sweat soaking his shirt, then peered back at the Lincoln. One of the men had climbed out the car and was now leaning against the hood. The other was still sitting in the driver’s seat, his beady eyes fixed and piercing.
Who were they?
Why were they watching him?
He pulled out his iPhone and dialed Mindy.
“Jeez, Ethan, it’s a bit early to be calling, don’t you think?” she said.
“Sorry, but something weird’s going on. There are two guys tailing me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. I’m being followed down Fifth Avenue by two guys in a fucking black Lincoln Navigator.”
“Have you seen them before?”
“Yeah. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the first time I’ve seen them,” he said, agitated. “I’m almost positive that car’s been parked outside my building the past couple of nights. Somebody’s keeping tabs on me.”
“Think you’re in danger?”
“How the hell should I know?” he said, raising his voice. “Hold on a sec. One of the guys—a really big guy—just got back into the car.” He lowered his cell phone to his side as the Lincoln burst across the street, slowed to a crawl as it approached him—the two men leering menacingly—and then disappeared around the corner.
He stood motionless, paralyzed with fear.
“Ethan, what’s going on? You still there?”
He lifted his iPhone. “I’m here, Mindy. They just left.” He took a deep breath. “I think somebody’s sending me a message, and I think I know who it is.”
“Who, Ethan?” she said, mystified.
“It’s gotta be Alexey Kolkov.”
“Why do you think it’s the Russian Mob?”
“Who else could it be? They must’ve found out I talked to Lloyd or to the junkies or to God knows who else.”
“I don’t know, Ethan, maybe you’re imagining it?”
“I’m not,” he said, shouting again. “Two guys are coming after me. I just saw them with my own two eyes.”
“Calm down, Ethan. What do you want me to do?”
“Call David. Tell him to reach out to his contacts in Washington and ask them if the Russians ever drive black Lincoln Navigators.”
“Should I call Lloyd too? He’s been tracking Kolkov for years. Maybe he knows?”
“Good idea,” Ethan said, beginning to worry about Sarah and Luke. “I gotta go home, make sure my family’s okay, then I’m gonna head to the office. Meet me there in an hour.”
• • • • •
Anatoly Gennadi was standing in plain sight when Ethan reached the corner of Ninety-First Street. He followed him down the block yelling obscenities, and hovered until Ethan hastily disappeared into the lobby of his building. Then he made his way to Madison Avenue and hauled himself into the passenger seat of the Lincoln. “Mischa, watch front of building while I make call to Nikolai. Ethan’s been busy boy this morning.” He pulled out a burner and dialed Stanislov’s number.
It rang twice before Nikolai picked up, still groggy with sleep. “Who the fuck is this?”
“It’s me, Anatoly. I tail Ethan Benson. I thought you’d want to know what big producer does so early in morning.”
Stanislov sat up in bed, fully awake. “Fill me in.”
“He left apartment at seven. We follow down Fifth Avenue. Walks dog. Dog takes piss. Dog takes shit. He smoke cigarettes, reads iPhone, then sits on steps at museum. Same as always in morning.”
“Did he meet with anybody?” Nikolai said disdainfully.
“Nyet,” Anatoly said.
“Did you confront him like the Pakhan told you to?”
“Da. I make sure I was in face, not once, two times. I yell, curse at him. He saw me.”
“Did you scare him?”
Anatoly’s expression turned dark. “He big-time scared, Nikolai. He call somebody after I get out of car first time. Never take eyes off me. Has long face. Screams on telephone.”
“Good. Soon he’ll put two and two together and figure out who we are, then, maybe, he’ll back off his fucking story.”
“What you want me to do now?” Anatoly said, relishing the possibilities.
“Keep following him,” Nikolai said. “I want him to know we’re watching his every move. Is he back in his apartment?”
“Da.”
“What do you think he’s doing?”
“Shivering in boots. Ha, ha, ha. Worrying what I do next.”
“You’re a bundle of laughs, Anatoly. Call me when he’s on the move again. I want to know where he goes.”
• • • • •
Stanislov put down his burner, clenching his fist in a ball, trying to control his temper. That fucking Benson, he thought, irritably. I gotta get rid of him. And I gotta do it soon. But how? How? How? Then he looked down at the hooker sleeping next to him and shook her violently.
Her eyes blinked open. “Where am I?” she said, confused.
“You’re in my damn bed, bitch. I want you outta here in five minutes. I got things to do.” He pulled a five-hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet, folded it into a neat little square, and tossed it at her. Then, without warning, he exploded, brutally kicking her, sending her crashing to the floor, her head hitting the hardwood with a loud thump. Screaming, she grabbed her clothes and dashed out of the room.
Stanislov grinned like a Cheshire cat, then stalked her into the hallway, enjoying her unbridled fear as she stuffed the money into her purse and made her way through his house, naked and confused. Pulling open the front door, she stopped and yelled, “You motherfucking asshole. I’m gonna call the cops, you scumbag.”
“Don’t talk back to me, cunt. I’ll teach you respect.” He lunged, pummeling her with his fists, splitting her lower lip and breaking her nose. Blood poured down her face and onto her breasts. Then he picked her up like a ragdoll and hurled her against the wall where she hung suspended in midair for an instant before slowly sliding to the floor. Dazed, she spit out a tooth, climbed to her hands and knees, and crawled out the door.
Laughing hysterically, Nikolai grabbed her clothes and tossed them after her, watching as she picked them up, stumbled to her feet, and ran down the block.
After slamming the door, he lit a cigarette and thought about Benson. Maybe it was time to rough him up a bit. Maybe it was time to give him a good beating. Maybe then he’d get the message—just like the hooker—and stop working on his story.
He picked up the phone and called the Pakhan.
• • • • •
Ethan double-bolted the front door, dropped Holly’s leash onto the floor, and made his way to his study. He poured himself a big tumbler of scotch and stared at the rich, brown liquid as Sarah padded into the room, barefoot, a horrified look on her face. “Ethan, you’re not going to drink that, are you? It’s eight o’clock in the morning for Christ’s sake.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, but you’re right, it’s probably a bad idea.” He placed the glass on his desk. “Can’t have alcohol on my breath when I go see the boss,” he said a little too flippantly.
“That’s not funny, Ethan. Don’t joke about your drinking. You promised me you’d take your problem seriously. Here, I brought you some coffee.” She handed him a mug. “Where’d you go with Holly? You were gone for an hour. I was starting to get worried.”
“I had to get out of the apartment,” he said cautiously. “I was up most of the night and needed some fresh air. Come sit with me for a minute before Luke wakes up. We need to talk.” He grabbed her hand and led her over to the couch. “Sarah, have you seen a black Lincoln Navigator parked anywhere on the street the past couple of days?”
She sat forward, surprised. “I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
She thought a moment. “I honestly don’t remember, Ethan. Maybe? I never pay much attention to who’s parked outside our building. Why? What’s going on?”
Ethan calmed his voice, hoping to temper what he was about to tell her. “I was just followed down Fifth Avenue by a black Lincoln Navigator.”
“What?”
“There were two big guys in the front seat. One of them got out and stood there watching me. Then he tailed me down our block yelling and screaming like a wild man. He seemed to know where we lived.”
“Who are they, Ethan?”
He paused, debating what to say. “I’m not sure, babe, but I
’m gonna find out.”
“Are they after you?”
He didn’t answer.
“Talk to me, Ethan. Am I in danger? Is Luke?”
“Maybe.” He climbed off the couch and paced around the room.
“Are they still out there?” she said, frightened.
“I don’t know,” he said, walking to the window and peering down at the street. “Yup, I can see them. They’re double-parked on the far side of Madison Avenue about a third the way up the block toward Park.”
Sarah pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Why are they after you, Ethan? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” Ethan said defensively as he sat back down. “But, you know, when I was out with Lloyd Howard the other night, I talked to a couple of junkies who knew Pavel Feodor and connected him to the Russian Mob. Maybe they found out about me.”
Sarah’s hands began shaking. “The Russian Mob’s involved in the murder and is keeping tabs on you because of your story?”
“Maybe,” he said, lighting a cigarette.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ethan? Why am I just hearing this for the first time?”
“Because until this morning, I didn’t think we were in danger,” he said, raising his voice. “Besides, I just spotted those two thugs and don’t really know who they are. I just told you that.”
“Why are you yelling?” Sarah said. “I’m scared. Really scared, Ethan. I don’t think Lukey and I can stay here until you figure things out.”
“I don’t think you can either,” Ethan said, trying to control his own fear. “Call your office and tell them you’re sick. Then pack up some stuff and go to your sister’s in Ohio. You’ll be safe there until this blows over.”
“And what about you?”
“I can’t leave, Sarah, you know that. I gotta finish my story and find out why those guys are after me.”
“You’re not going to do something stupid, are you, Ethan?”
“I’ll be careful,” he said comfortingly. “Now go pack. I want you outta here and on a plane right away.”
She got up without saying another word and hurried out of the room.
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