Devil's Dance (Trackdown Book 1)

by Michael A. Black

  “Please, sit down,” Fallotti said. “We have a lot to discuss.”

  “I’m sure we do,” Eagan said, lowering himself into the chair. Like how I’m gonna end up rich beyond my wildest dreams.

  “By the way,” Fallotti said, “We were sorry to hear about Stu. He was one hell of a good guy. And one helluva a patriot.”

  Eagan nodded again, thinking, I guess that’s why he blew his brains out just before the G was going to indict him.

  Fallotti’s smile seemed fixed. “I believe you also served in Iraq with one of my firm’s junior partners,” he said, the smile still stretching his lips. “Lieutenant Jack Cummins.”

  Eagan nodded. He remembered Cummins as a grade A fuck-up. Fat, cowardly, basically incompetent.

  “We acquired Jack a few years ago from the public defender’s office shortly before he was reactivated by the military,” Fallotti said. “When he returned from his tour of duty, we welcomed him back with open arms.”

  Some tour, thought Eagan. Military Intel officer. Setting up deals with a bunch of contractors and no doubt pocketing the extras. Eagan recalled how back in Iraq Cummins had blown chunks after the one raghead’s throat had been slit. Right before the shit had hit the fan.

  “Jack was, for lack of a better term, our liaison with Stu,” Fallotti said. “He was instrumental in setting up our little operations over there. As I’m sure you know, the Vipers end of it went fairly well. But the matter became bogged down later on down the line.”

  Eagan nodded fractionally. The sooner this prick cut to the chase and laid it out, the better.

  “We want Jack to work exclusively with you on this matter, since you two have worked together before and he knows all the principals.” Fallotti tilted his head back on looked down his long nose at Eagan. “This is a rather delicate matter and there are certain precautions that must be taken.”

  “Fine. I have no problem with that.”

  “So,” Fallotti asked, his practiced lawyer’s grin looking as unctuous as ever. “Do you know why we invited you here?”

  Pouring on the charm for the hired mercenary. Of course, he fucking knew. He’d been suddenly cast as the only ex-Viper they could deal with, as distasteful as it probably was for them, after Novak blew his brains out. Their boy Jack wasn’t up to doing the deed. Eagan knew they needed him to make it work, and that would make this little transaction all the more sweet and lucrative for him. Eagan mulled over just what to say, but he’d never liked beating around the bush, even when discussing something just the other side of being legal. Since Fallotti was Von Dien’s lawyer, everything said here would be confidential. Attorney-client privilege for the rich man. It provided Von Dien sufficient insulation. The man was nothing if not careful. Greedy, but careful. Still, he’d heard through the grapevine how connected Von Dien was.

  Eagan cleared his throat. “When I was in Iraq with Vipers, as you know, the military was working with the international task force trying to recover more of the stolen antiquities from the National Museum.”

  There was a subtle gleam in the Von Dien’s eyes. The fat man had turned into a venal Buddha now. Just talking about the fucking stuff was probably giving him what passed for him as a hard-on. But the gleam was something that set off alarm bells in Eagan’s gut. He smiled. “Many of the most valuable artifacts are still missing.”

  Fallotti nodded. “Exactly.”

  Eagan paused to scratch his chin. Better to play it close to his vest. “When Stu approached me about this latest mission, he had only very sketchy information. I believe you had several other individuals in the loop?”

  Fallotti and Von Dien exchanged glances.

  “Well,” the lawyer said, his voice sounding almost like he was beginning a closing argument. “Back before the war, there were certain items that had been paid for, to Saddam’s government when he was in charge, of course, and were legitimately the property of Mr. Von Dien.”

  The horse’s ass they were, Eagan thought, but he nodded in agreement.

  “So,” Fallotti continued, “after the regime change in the country, and the unfortunate looting of the National Museum, retrieving this property became somewhat problematic when pursued through the regular international business channels. Thus, we had to rely on certain individuals whom we subsequently discovered to be ...” he paused and traced his thumb and index finger along the brackets on each side of his mouth. “Shall we say, less than reputable”

  All this talk just to get him to get on board with something that was a little less than legal. Eagan kept his grin minimal “The black market.”

  Fallotti cleared his throat. “Yes, but may I remind you that unlike here, the black market is considered a legitimate business entity in many Third World countries.”

  “Sir,” Eagan said, figuring they’d go for the old enlisted man show of respect, “Let’s cut to the chase. I was the one that ram-rodded the original mission in Iraq a couple of years ago, remember? If you need someone to help you recover this new property, I’m your man.”

  Fallotti and Von Dien exchanged glances again. Buddha’s eyes narrowed. Eagan almost didn’t catch the fractional nod.

  “Good, good, Mr. Eagan,” Fallotti said, his smile wide now. “I must say, I like a man who doesn’t beat around the bush.”

  “Why don’t you bring me up to speed then?”

  “As you may or may not know,” Fallotti said, “I recently represented a client named Thomas Accondras.” He paused, as if waiting to see if Eagan recognized the name.

  Eagan kept his expression as flat as a glass of warm beer. Novak had filled him in with some of the details, but they didn’t need to know how much he knew.

  Fallotti cleared his throat again. “Mr. Accondras was a graduate student who’d been studying Arabic and Middle Eastern. He’s half Saudi and half Canadian.” The lawyer’s eyebrows raised. “And he was also an associate of Stu’s.”

  Eagan figured as much. Stu had mentioned he had a sure-fire way to get the stuff smuggled out of the country through a conduit in Jordan.

  “Mr. Accondras was in the Middle East. Amman, to be exact,” the lawyer continued. “Acting on behalf of Mr. Von Dien to recover his missing property.” He paused and took a deep breath, the corners of his mouth turning downward. “Unfortunately, he was arrested as he tried to enter this country.”

  “What was he charged with?” Eagan asked.

  “Mr. Accondras apparently had an outstanding warrant from a previous misunderstanding that happened some months ago in Manhattan. The matter was believed to have been settled, but, much to our chagrin, the case had never been properly resolved.”

  “What kind of case?” Eagan asked.

  Fallotti shot a quick look at the Buddha, then back to Eagan. “Aggravated Criminal Sexual Exploitation of a Minor, but he assured us of his innocence.”

  A short-eyes, Eagan thought. These pricks don’t give a shit who they deal with, as long as he job gets done.

  “He was arrested as he tried to enter this country from Canada,” Fallotti said, “I was immediately notified, and managed to get him released on bond. We were unaware of it at the time, but Mr. Accondras had the item shipped to himself when he was in Toronto.”

  “A priceless artifact in the hands of postal morons,” Von Dien chimed in. “The Canadian postal morons.”

  Eagan said nothing, silently appreciating this guy, Accondras for his foresight and temerity. If the asshole hadn’t taken the proper precautions, these two assholes would have probably left him hanging him out to dry as soon as they got their hands on the goods.

  “One of our main concerns in using him in the first place,” Fallotti said, “was to have a layer of insulation between him, the artifact, and Mr. Von Dien.”

  Eagan nodded. He recalled hearing that the rich man had been called on the carpet by some governmental watchdog group several years ago for being involved in purchasing some stolen Middle Eastern artifacts. His lawyers had gotten him out of it with just a fine and a
slap on the wrist. So this guy Accondras was set up to be the fall guy this time if things went wrong.

  “Needless to say,” Fallotti continued. “This entire matter had to be handled with the utmost discretion. I secured the services of a reputable bail bondsman, who guaranteed the million dollar bond the judge assigned.”

  “A bail bondsman?” he asked.

  Fallotti compressed his lips momentarily, then said, “As I mentioned, it was essential to keep a layer of insulation between Accondras and us.”

  By “us” Eagan knew he meant the rich prick.

  “And that’s where things started to go a bit off course,” Fallotti said. “Instead of surrendering the artifact to us as he’d promised, Mr. Accondras disappeared.”

  Smart move, Eagan thought. He obviously wanted to up the ante now that his back was against the wall.

  “He’s missed his first court date,” Fallotti said. “I managed to get a two-month continuance regarding the extradition hearing, but he’s no longer in the United States. The court date’s coming up in about ten days.”

  Eagan emitted a low whistle. “A hundred grand up in smoke. I’ll bet the bail bondsman isn’t too happy about that.”

  Von Dien made a hissing sound of disgust. “That idiot’s happiness is inconsequential.”

  Fallotti jumped in, as eager to keep the fat Buddha calm, as if he were balancing an egg on the tip of a razor blade. “That’s not really an issue. We’ve already made arrangements to cover his losses. And we actually know where Accondras is.”

  “The pathetic cretin is trying to renegotiate our deal,” Von Dien said. His eyes took on a new hardness.

  The bag-man turneth. Eagan still kept his expression neutral.

  “Believe me,” the fat Buddha said. “I don’t take kindly to those who choose to cross me, Mr. Eagan.”

  Was that supposed to be a warning? Eagan gave him no reply, not even a fractional nod.

  Never let them see you sweat, he thought. Never show weakness, especially to some rich fat cat who thinks he could buy and sell you like a piece of beef.

  “You said you know where he’s at?” Eagan said.

  “Yes,” Fallotti said. “We have located him now in—”

  “Mex-i-co,” Von Dien chimed in, drawing out the three syllables like he was reciting a distasteful word.

  “His parents, or rather his mother and stepfather, own beachfront property in a resort area down there,” Fallotti said. “It caters to rich foreigners and is very well protected. Armed guards patrol around the area and on the beachfront.”

  “Protection from the filthy Mexican riffraff,” Von Dien said. “At least it gives me some hope that the artifact is there, and safe.”

  “So you think he has it there?” Eagan asked.

  “We do, but we’re not exactly sure where he’s keeping it. He doesn’t get on that well with his stepfather, so we’re not sure if he’d keep it on the premises.”

  “Maybe a safety deposit box in a bank?” Eagan asked.

  Fallotti shrugged. “Again, we’re not sure. After his brush with the authorities up here, he’s purportedly a bit paranoid.”

  “And he’s willing to make a deal?”

  “He’s actually been fairly open about contacting us,” Fallotti said. “To renegotiate things, as he put it.”

  The lawyer quickly glanced toward Von Dien whose expression hadn’t changed from a look of total disgust.

  “We sent a private detective down there to keep tabs on him,” Fallotti said. “Accondras is there, but he’s keeping the whereabouts of the artifact a secret. Our man hasn’t been able to locate it.”

  “You should have never trusted that greasy little son of a bitch in the first place,” Von Dien said. His words were laced with irritation.

  “So you need someone to grab him,” Eagan said. “And find out where he’s stashed the item.”

  “Exactly,” Fallotti said. “And persuade him to relinquish it.”

  Working everything through a third party, Eagan thought. Someone to take the fall should anything go wrong.

  Von Dien emitted a hissing breath. “Where else could it be? It’s his only insurance.”

  Eagan nodded, purposely still keeping his expression totally neutral.

  That adds a new element to the mix, Eagan thought. Dealing with the policía down south of the border could be tricky. They could be bought, but they also didn’t play fair, especially if they got wind that there was a lot of money involved. He’d have to add some layers of insulation of his own to the mix.

  “What about the Mexican authorities?” Eagan asked. “Are they going to be involved in any way?”

  Von Dien made the hissing sound again. “Do you think I want to risk having such a valuable piece fall into the hands of some grubby, filthy Mexicans? They’re so corrupt down there, they’d merely turn around and demand their own payoff. I trust them as far as I can smell them.”

  “Just what is this artifact that you’re talking about?” Eagan asked.

  The two of them exchanged glances, then Von Dien’s face gave slightest of movements.

  “It’s half of a piece called the Lion and the Lioness Attacking the Nubian,” Fallotti said.

  Eagan raised an eyebrow. “The second part of the item we removed from Iraq a few years ago?”

  Fallotti nodded. “The Lion. The most valuable part.”

  “As I recall,” Eagan said. “It wasn’t that large.”

  “Two matching hand-carved ivory plaques, inlaid with gold, jewels and mother of pearl,” the fat man said, his voice sounding almost breathless, like a teenager describing his first copped feel. “Not that large, but priceless to the right buyer.”

  Fallotti licked his lips. “A few days ago, Accondras contacted my firm saying he wanted to negotiate a new deal.”

  “For an exorbitant amount that I wouldn’t mind paying,” Von Dien said, breaking in. “But I am not naïve enough to believe that if, in fact he does still possess the item, that he will make good on his promise to return it to me.”

  Return it to me? Eagan almost chuckled to himself. As if the fucking thing belonged to this rich prick in the first place.

  “We’d been in contact with Stu Novak on another, related matter a few months ago,” Fallotti said.

  The botched hit on Wolf at Leavenworth, no doubt, Eagan thought. Stu had mentioned that it had been a last-minute cluster fuck of a request.

  “And when the news of Mr. Accondras’s possible whereabouts came to light last week we attempted to contact him again. That’s when we heard the unfortunate news of his death.”

  “And you were told that I was running the Vipers now,” Eagan said leaning forward. “So you want me to discreetly grab Accondras, find out where he’d got the artifact stashed, and get it back for you.” He said it as a matter-of-fact statement rather than a question. “Anything else?”

  The venal Buddha nodded, then said, “Two things. First, there’s the matter of verifying its authenticity.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” Eagan said. “I know a guy. He used to be affiliated with the Iraqi National Museum of Art.”

  “An Iraqi?” Von Dien’s lips curled downward like he’d just smelled something unpleasant. “Can he be trusted?”

  Eagan nodded. “I’ve worked with him before. In fact, he’s the one we used over there a few years ago to get the first half of the artifact.”

  The rich prick seemed to consider this. “And he is…” He let his voice trailed off.

  “Available?” Eagan said, as if he could read the asshole’s thoughts. “He’s actually up in this country now. Stu brought him over claiming political asylum. I got his number.”

  Fallotti nodded, flashing a very slight smile.

  “What’s the name of this private detective you’ve got down there?” Eagan asked.

  “Jason Zerbe. Shall I’ll call him and advise him you’re coming?”

  “Hold off on that for the moment,” Eagan said. “We need to set
up some ground rules.”

  “Ground rules?” The lawyer’s forehead furrowed.

  “Yeah.” Eagan paused for maximum effect, making sure he had their full attention. “I’ve worked south of the border before. You’re absolutely right about the Mexican police being corrupt and basically worthless. So what we need is to put the stamp of legitimacy on this operation.”

  “Legitimacy?” Fallotti said.

  “Absolutely not,” Von Dien said. “I thought I made it clear that I wanted this matter to be handled discreetly.”

  “It will be,” Eagan said. “But I’m not going to take any of my guys down there to run a covert operation without a contingency plan in place. A plan that we can run as a cover story, should things go wrong.”

  Fallotti squinted. “I’m not following you.”

  “You said this Accondras skipped out on his bail, right?”

  The attorney nodded.

  “Then it’s simple,” Eagan said. “We’ll use a subterfuge. Put me in contact with this bail bondsman and we’ll set things up to make it look like he sent a couple of skip tracers down there to pick up his errant client.”

  “I don’t know,” Fallotti said. “Sounds risky.”

  “As risky as Accondras’s parents making a stink about some gringos coming down there and abducting him? Eventually, the shit’s gonna hit the fan, pardon my French, and it’s all gonna get traced back up here. Is that what you want?”

  Fallotti’s eyes darted toward the rich prick. “He’s got a point.”

  “He certainly does,” Von Dien said, his obese face softening a bit. “Mr. Eagan, I commend you on your foresight. I like a man with foresight. Eliminates a lot of potential problems. But about these skip tracers, as you call them … Can they be trusted?”

  “Leave that to me. Do we have a deal?” Eagan said. “If I agree to this, I run the show. And, my services don’t come cheap.”

  Von Dien sat in silence for several seconds.

  Fallotti glanced at the fat Buddha. Eagan could almost see the avarice gleaming again in the rich prick’s eyes. Finally, Von Dien nodded at the lawyer. “Do it.” Turning to Eagan, he added, “Whatever it takes. Just bring me that artifact.”