New York Strip

by W. J. Costello

  Moments later I started the engine.

  “Nice sunglasses, Rip. Have you got an extra pair for me?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Can you at least put down my sun visor?”

  “Sure. There you go. Any other requests?”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  “Swell.”

  CHAPTER 54

  GRAVEL CRUNCHED UNDER the tires when I hit the gas.

  Two miles later I turned onto the main road. It took me to the highway. I got onto the highway.

  “You’re good,” Sam told me. “The best Boris has sent so far.”

  “You made it easy. You came to me.”

  “True. But none of the others found Janet.”

  “Janet.”

  “You said her name as if it were a four-letter word.”

  “She set me up.”

  “She did do that.”

  “She did it for you. The two of you must be pretty close.”

  “We used to date.”

  “I’m surprised an ex-girlfriend would have your back like that.”

  “Just because we broke up doesn’t mean we don’t still care about each other. Under different circumstances I would have asked her to marry me. But our lives took different paths.”

  We drove past the WELCOME TO KENTUCKY sign.

  I looked over at Sam.

  “You know any songs that mention Kentucky?”

  “I know the Kentucky Fried Chicken slogan.”

  “Slogans don’t count.”

  I made a mental note to Google it later. The next time I visited Kentucky I would be prepared.

  “You could have shot me at the hotel,” I said. “You could have killed me. But you didn’t.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you: I just wanted to put a little scare into you. Just enough to prevent you from trying to find me again.”

  “How many others did Boris send before me?”

  “Half a dozen.”

  “Did you visit their hotels in the middle of the night too?”

  “No.”

  “So why me? Why’d you pay me a visit?”

  “Because you were the only one who came close to finding me. None of the others found Janet. I didn’t want something bad to happen to her. So I thought scaring you away would be the best thing to do. That’s why I paid you a visit.”

  “What happened to the half a dozen others who tried to find you?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe they just gave up. Or maybe Boris dispatched them.”

  “How’d you know they were looking for you?”

  “I’ve got sources.”

  “Good to have sources.”

  “Makes all the difference.”

  “So why’s Boris after you anyway?”

  Sam stared out the window.

  “Fear,” he said.

  “Of?”

  “Death.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “I’ve been trying to kill him. First I blew up his car. But somehow he managed to survive that. I think somebody else must have started the engine for him. A body double. Next I blew up his house. Unfortunately he wasn’t home that night. Lucky bastard. Finally I blew up one of his businesses. He was supposed to be there at the time. But no dice.”

  “Three strikes.”

  “Tracking his location isn’t easy. He stays on the move. Especially since the bombings. I’ve got no idea where he spends his time now.”

  “Lake Ontario. On a yacht.”

  “No wonder I couldn’t find him. Lake Ontario. That’s where we’re heading now?”

  I nodded.

  “How much is Boris paying you to bring me back to him?”

  “Why? You want to make me a better offer? Pay me more to let you go?”

  “Actually I plan to escape from you. I just wanted to know how much money you’re going to lose out on when I do.”

  I had to laugh at that.

  Sam reminded me of a man I greatly admire:

  Me.

  We drove in silence. Sam was probably planning his great escape. I wasn’t worried.

  “Must be a good reason why you want to kill Boris.”

  “There is.”

  “You want to tell me?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We’ve got a long drive.”

  CHAPTER 55

  “BORIS OWNS MANY businesses,” Sam said.

  “I know about his strip clubs,” I said. “And his financial group.”

  “He owns a limestone quarry too.”

  “In New York?”

  “In Albany.”

  “Where you used to live.”

  “You know about my house there?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you go there to look for me?”

  “No need to. I knew you wouldn’t be there.”

  “You knew? How?”

  “I’ve got sources.”

  “Good to have sources.”

  “Makes all the difference.”

  “Anyway Boris owns a limestone quarry in Albany. He needed to break rock. So he hired me to do the blasting.”

  “You applied for the job?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “How’d you get it?”

  “Through my wife. She introduced me to Boris. They’re both Russian and they met at some Russian function in New York City a few years ago.”

  No need to tell Sam I knew a little bit about his wife. Sharing that information with him would do nothing for me. So I kept it to myself.

  “Breaking rock. That hard to do?”

  He shook his head.

  “Actually it’s pretty easy. You drill holes into the rock. You fill them with explosives. You detonate the explosives. The rocks collapse. You remove the rubble and reinforce the new surface. Then you just continue repeating the process until you finish the excavation. Easy.”

  “Long as you know what you’re doing. Otherwise you might lose some body parts. Or worse.”

  “Sometimes that happens.”

  “I bet.”

  We drove past a billboard that showed Fort Knox. The place looked a little shabby. A little worn around the edges. With all the gold they have in there you would think they would spruce up the place.

  “Anyway I started working at the limestone quarry. Boris would show up there now and then to talk to the manager. But not very often and not for very long.

  “He was an absentee business owner. For the most part he let the manager run the quarry without much supervision. I suppose that’s what you’ve got to do when you own so many businesses.

  “My first assignment at the quarry went well. I blasted the rock with no problems and no injuries.

  “More assignments followed. Easy work. Nothing to it.

  “It was a good job. The pay was good. The hours were good. The work was less dangerous than my previous work with explosives. Plus I made it home for dinner with my wife every evening. A good job. No complaints.

  “But then everything went wrong. My world shattered. My life turned upside down . . .”

  He stopped talking.

  I looked over at him.

  He blinked tears from his eyes and looked away.

  The sentimental part of me had a hard time feeling empathy for him. After all he had recently pointed a gun at me. Hard to feel empathy for somebody who threatened your life.

  His story interested me. But only the part about Boris. I wanted to hear more about Boris.

  “So what went wrong? What shattered your world?”

  Sam cleared his throat. He looked straight ahead and stared out the window. His voice softened.

  “One day Boris pulls up in his limousine and asks me to take a little ride with him. I’ve got dirt and limestone all over my clothes and I don’t want to mess up the limousine. So I tell Boris I need a few minutes to get changed. He nods and I go to my locker and put on some clean clothes.

  �
�When I get to the limousine the chauffeur opens the back door and I get in beside Boris. He smiles and offers me a drink. I tell him I don’t drink. He pours himself a drink. Then the chauffeur starts driving.

  “I’ve got no idea where we’re going. No idea what Boris wants to show me or talk about. I don’t ask him either. I figure I’ll find out soon enough.

  “We drive through downtown Albany. Past the New York State Capitol. Alongside the Hudson River. When we get to Arbor Hill the limousine pulls to the curb and stops.

  “Boris leans toward me and points out the window. He points to an apartment building. A dilapidated building. It looks like it might have been a hotel at one time. He tells me he owns the building.

  “We get out of the limousine and walk to the front door of the building. He unlocks it and we enter. The interior looks just as bad as the exterior. It needs paint. Needs repairs.

  “Boris leads me down the hallway. Then down the stairs to the basement. We stop in the boiler room. Not much light in there. Steam hisses from pipes. The furnace groans.

  “Boris stands by the furnace and tells me the building has been ordered shut down and tenants ordered to vacate because of multiple code violations. He says he’s in the midst of a foreclosure proceeding and he wants to cash in on his insurance rather than face foreclosure.

  “I ask him how he plans to do that. I already know the answer of course. His plan is pretty obvious by now. Especially because he took me to the boiler room.

  “I just nod when he tells me he plans to burn down the building. What could I say? I mean how are you supposed to respond when somebody tells you something like that?

  “Anyway Boris leads me back up the stairs and down the hallway. We exit the building and get into the limousine. Boris pours himself another drink. Then the chauffeur starts driving. I look out the window and wait for whatever comes next.

  “A few blocks later Boris finally ends the suspense. He says he wants me to be the one to burn down the building. He wants me to use my expertise with fuses to make it look like an accidental fire.

  “Up until that point I’d never committed a crime. Never broken the law. Never done anything illegal.

  “So I tell Boris, ‘I’m not doing it. I’m not going to burn down an apartment building. I’m not going to break the law and go to prison. Not for you. Not for anybody. Period.’

  “He just nods with no expression on his face. Then he sips his drink and studies his fingernails. He stays quiet all the way back to the quarry.

  “When I got home that night I told my wife what had happened. The story shocked her. She couldn’t believe it.

  “Her opinion of Boris changed immediately. In her mind Boris went from being a respectable businessman to a common thug.

  “She and I decided I should stop working for him. That I should get a job elsewhere. Someplace with a respectable employer.

  “So the following morning I quit my job at the quarry. That felt great. It felt like the end of the problem.

  “But it wasn’t. Boris wouldn’t take no for answer. He wanted to force me to do his dirty work.

  “He sent two of his enforcers to my house. They came when my wife and I were sleeping. They pounded on the door. Pounded like hammers.

  “I got out of bed and went downstairs to see who was there. Before I could look out the window they surged through the door like Nazi storm troopers.

  “They pointed Kalashnikovs at me. They told me I better cooperate with Boris. That bad things would happen if I refused to do what he wanted. They stormed into the living room and shattered the big-screen TV. Then they left.

  “I thought about phoning the police and then thought better of it. The police couldn’t help me. Not with somebody like Boris.

  “The law can protect you only so far. Thugs like Boris know how to get around the law. How to beat the system. You can’t beat people like that. They always come out on top. You just have to get away from them.

  “My wife and I decided the best thing would be to move. Move far away from Boris. So we put our house up for sale.

  “We started packing immediately. Furniture. Clothes. We didn’t own much.

  “We figured we could move out that weekend. We could let the realtor deal with selling the house while we searched for a new one. That was the plan anyway.

  “The plan went to hell when Boris’s enforcers showed up at the house again. First they threatened us. Then they trashed the house. Smashing dishes. Tearing out paneling. Punching holes in the wall.

  “This time I was prepared for them. I had a gun. I went to get it while they were busy trashing the house.

  “That turned out to be a mistake. A big mistake. They used my own gun against me. They smashed it into my nose and laughed. Laughed like hyenas. Then they trashed the house some more.

  “My wife stayed calm during the home invasion. Nika never got upset. Not even once. She just sat quietly in her wheelchair. Not moving a muscle. Except for her eyes. She watched the two men while they destroyed our house. That must have eaten her up inside.

  “The guilt ate at me. Nika had to suffer through that nightmare because of me. Because of my stubbornness.

  “Boris’s men had warned me. They’d told me bad things would happen if I didn’t cooperate with Boris. I should have listened to them. I should have cooperated. That would have been the best thing to do.

  “I wish I could do it all over again. Rewind to that night. Do things the right way. The smart way.

  “When the men finished trashing the house they sat down in the living room with Nika and me. They gave me instructions for burning down the apartment building. Explicit instructions.

  “Nika and I just looked at each other. Her expression told me not to give in. To tell them to go to hell.

  “But I never got a chance to do that. Before I could speak one of the men grabbed Nika while the other one pointed a Kalashnikov at me.

  “They told me the time for talk was over. They said Nika would die if I refused to do the job. The man put a knife to her throat.

  “My blood jumped. I wanted to kill them both. But that would have been impossible.

  “I begged them not to harm her. I agreed to do the job. I told them I was ready to cooperate with Boris.

  “But that didn’t matter one bit. They still took Nika. They put her in the car and drove off.

  “I tried to phone Boris. I must have tried more than a hundred times. He never answered his phone.

  “I tried to find him too. But couldn’t. Couldn’t find him anywhere. Not at work. Not at home.

  “Then the following day I heard from him. He phoned me at home and spoke cryptically. He told me he had something I wanted. He said I could get it back if I did the job. I agreed to do the job.

  “Two days later I burned the apartment building to the ground. Committing arson left me feeling bad about myself. I got drunk that night. Horribly drunk.

  “The fire investigator determined the fire was accidental. Boris collected the insurance money. Everything worked out the way he wanted.

  “Though I kept my word to him, he failed to keep his word to me. He kept Nika. The bastard kept her.

  “I pleaded with him to let her go. I even threatened him. Nothing worked.

  “He used her as leverage to force me into committing another crime. Then another. And another.

  “After a while I realized his demands would never end. As long as he had my wife he could control me like a marionette. I needed to cut the strings. I needed to take action.

  “So I started researching Boris. Researching him online. Talking to his associates. Learning about the man. His businesses. His interests.

  “Soon I learned about his involvement with sex trafficking. He forces women into prostitution in other countries. In brothels. In hotels. In saunas. Many of the women are minors.

  “He owns several employment agencies that offer jobs to women. Jobs abroad. Jobs that pay well. Dancing. Modeling. Escorting. That sort of thing. />
  “The job offers appeal mostly to poor women. Women without opportunities in their own countries. Women who are desperate to improve their lives. There’s no shortage of women like that in the world.

  “Any woman who accepts a job offer from one of Boris’s employment agencies is accompanied to her new place of employment and delivered to her new employer. The employer confiscates the woman’s passport and takes her to a place of prostitution where she learns about the realities of her new job.

  “If she refuses to do her job? She suffers consequences. Rape. Assault. Torture. Threats of violence to her relatives back home.

  “The employer tells the woman she must work until she pays off the debt for her flight and room and board. She becomes trapped by debt. A sex slave forced to service dozens of men a day.

  “Many of the women become depressed. Some become alcoholics. Others drug addicts. The cost of alcohol and drugs adds to their debt. Their lives become an endless cycle of desperation and self-destruction that often leads to suicide.

  “Boris has subjected thousands of women to the misery of forced prostitution. Women from all over the world. Women who would otherwise have led descent lives at home in their own countries.

  “Sex trafficking has made Boris a wealthy man. He lives like a king. The best food. The best clothes. The best houses. All at the expense of unfortunate women.

  “Catching sex traffickers like Boris is almost impossible. The women they exploit rarely report them to law-enforcement officials. They fear reprisals. They feel ashamed too.

  “Learning about Boris’s involvement with sex trafficking frightened me. I feared he might do something to Nika. Maybe send her to Russia. Force her to become a prostitute. Make her service dozens of men a day. Turn her into a substance abuser.

  “That fear spurred me to action. I contacted three friends from my Army days. Former Army Rangers. When I told them about Nika they volunteered to find her and bring her back to me. It took them two weeks before they finally found her at a warehouse in New York City. A warehouse owned by Boris.

  “The Rangers wore headset cameras when they stormed the warehouse. I watched the video feed on a monitor and saw everything that happened that night. That was almost like being there with them.