by Ty Patterson
‘None of that will be admissible in a court,’ Chang said morosely, kicking at a stray wrapper.
‘None of what?’ His partner approached them.
Pizaka listened in silence and surprised them with his reaction.
‘Zeb did what he had to. No, I am not high,’ he told them. ‘These are small fish. It is Razor we should be worried about.’
‘You know something about him?’ Zeb asked.
‘No, and that’s what worries me.’
Razor was out on a run as the cops were wrapping up the incident. He took a long, looping route from his East Village apartment, along the East River, around Trinity Church, finishing at Tompkins Square Park.
Sweat was pouring off him when he warmed down by practicing a few katas. Joggers and cyclists glanced at him as they passed. There was a balletic grace to his movements. That wasn’t surprising; at one time, Razor had been a promising balletic dancer in Moscow and had dreams of joining the Bolshoi Ballet.
It would have astounded the passersby to know the man they were watching was one of the most lethal killers in the country.
Razor had received the call from his Kremlin boss a few days back. That had been followed by the frantic message from Nikolai. The killer had removed a burner phone from its wrapping, called the former arms dealer, and winced at the torrent of words.
‘Slow down,’ he said, gutturally.
Razor’s voice didn’t match his average looks. It was gravelly, deep, and sounded like stones and mud scraping on metal.
He liked his voice. It scared his victims, and that was an excellent starting point for whatever he planned to do with them.
Nikolai slowed down. He described the two women. PIs, he said, with an office somewhere on Columbus Avenue. They had to be taken down.
Razor’s boss had warned him about Nikolai. That he had some kind of game that people bid for. The assassin’s lips had twisted when he heard that. It was the first time he had heard of an online game transferred to reality. It didn’t surprise him, however. Nothing did.
‘When?’ he interrupted the Russian’s description of the women.
‘As soon as possible.’
‘How?’
‘How what?’ Nikolai yelled.
Razor glanced at the phone. The man at the other end of the call was losing it. There must be something to the arms dealer, otherwise his boss wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.
‘How do you want them to die?’
The killer could end life in several ways. If a message had to be conveyed to his boss’s enemies, he would use radioactive poisoning. If a natural death was desired, he could arrange a bathroom accident. If a victim needed to just disappear, that could be arranged, too. Torture? He was a master at it.
His question seemed to have made Nikolai pause and think, because the Russian didn’t answer immediately.
‘They should know they messed with me.’
‘A statement killing?’
‘No. That will attract heat. No shooting or knifing, either. That’s too quick. They have to suffer.’
Razor grunted, and as he was about to hang up, Nikolai spoke.
‘They have friends. They are former Special Forces. They have a reputation. Be careful.’
Razor almost snorted.
No cop knew who he was or what he looked like.
Careful?
He was the very definition of it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘How can a killer not be known to any police force in the country? Or abroad?’ Meghan tapped a pencil against a cup.
She and Beth were having a small conference in their office, at midday. The same attendees as the previous one, with one difference. Konstantin did not have Stan. The billionaire had come alone, and when he had met his daughter, he had hugged her.
Meghan had waited for him to blow a fuse. Rail at them for having Angie go through a car chase.
Konstantin surprised them by saying nothing.
Maybe he’s realizing how we work now. And can see that his daughter’s still alive and unharmed.
‘Chang? Pizaka?’ she asked the two cops, the former sprawled in his seat, a cup in his hand, the latter with his legs crossed, a picture of elegance.
‘We’re here to think?’ Chang mumbled. ‘We came for the coffee!’ He took a loud pull, smacked his lips, placed his cup on the table and assumed a thoughtful expression.
‘We checked and double-checked. No Nikolai. There are enough Russian killers in our records, but no one matches the description your informer gave.’
The sisters hadn’t told the cops about Jurado. They had made up a story. That one of the responders to the ads had revealed the information.
They had checked Jurado’s print, and it had matched a cold case from several years ago. They had checked out charities in the city, and one of them had a volunteer who matched Jurado’s description.
They had debated letting the cops know.
‘It won’t do any good,’ Beth had argued. ‘I’ll bet Jurado has already undergone surgery to his fingers. His prints will no longer be recognizable.’
They agreed to a compromise. They would inform the cops once Nikolai and Razor were stopped.
‘We checked with Interpol, the Brits, the South Americans. No luck there.’ Meghan glared at Chang, who appeared to be nodding off.
‘What about your Russian friend?’ Konstantin asked.
‘He doesn’t know, either.’
Andropov had raged and ranted, promising to tear apart Nikolai if he found him. The problem was, the Russian didn’t know who the arms dealer was. To complicate matters, he wasn’t aware of Razor.
‘They belong to me, if you find them,’ he had warned the twins. ‘They killed my men. They will pay a price.’
Meghan had made a noncommittal noise and hung up. She sympathized with Andropov, but the arms dealer and the killer weren’t going to be handed over to their friend.
‘Where does that leave us?’ Konstantin asked.
Pizaka found something interesting outside the window. Chang studied the ceiling as if Michelangelo had painted a masterpiece on it. The sisters didn’t say anything. Neither did Zeb, Bwana or Bear.
‘Dad,’ Angie broke the silence, impatiently. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘No,’ the billionaire looked perplexed.
‘Meghan and Beth. They want Razor to come after them. It is the only link to Nikolai.’
‘What about this sick game? Surely we can trace it —’
‘Which is likely bounced around on servers all over the world,’ Meghan cut in.
‘You can try to identify the players.’
‘We tried. We didn’t get anywhere.’
‘You can backtrack Kloops’ travel. See where he went. There will be security cameras.’
He is a billionaire for a reason, Meghan admitted to herself.
‘We’ve done all of that, sir. We have hit a brick wall.’
‘But he’s a killer!’ Konstantin whirled on Zeb, Bwana and Bear. ‘Are you going to allow it?’
‘You misunderstand our relationship, sir,’ Bwana rumbled. ‘Beth and Meghan tell us what to do.’
‘He’ll kill you!’ the billionaire threw his hands up in frustration.
‘Many have tried, sir.’ Bwana crossed his arms across his chest, unperturbed. ‘They are still here.’
Razor commenced his preparations that very day. He made a call and secured the services of a trusted partner. A man who made a living out of following others.
Rufus — that was the only name he gave out — parked his van across from the Columbus Avenue office. His vehicle bore the signs of a pizza company. The firm had an office, and anyone calling it got a bright-voiced receptionist. The cover was elaborate and had stood the test of time and cops.
Rufus was balding, had sunken eyes, a jowly face and a belly that threatened to pop the buttons off his coveralls.
He seated himself heavily on a bench, unwrapped his lunch and bit
into his burger. He belched when he had finished, then lay down on the bench for a nap.
He woke several hours later and drove away into the sunset. His job was done.
It was his van that did the real work. Its roof had concealed cameras and directional microphones. They could listen in to conversations within buildings, as long as they were held near the windows.
Rufus repeated his act for the next three days, each time driving a different van and changing his appearance. One time, he wore a wig and a business suit. Another time he wore the uniform of a city maintenance worker.
By the fifth day, Razor got what he wanted: Beth and Meghan’s routine. He knew the ad campaign was still running. He knew the sisters visited the call center at midday.
He had to grab them to convey Nikolai’s message, and, as long as the campaign was running, he could create an opportunity.
He made his plans.
Chapter Forty
The call came a week after the gang’s attack. Nothing much had happened in the intervening days. Calls kept coming in, but no real leads emerged.
The game was still on the darknet, but no new bids were being entertained. Only two characters remained on it: the twins. There were static bids next to each name.
The sisters thought about its significance but could only speculate. ‘Nikolai wants all attention on us,’ Beth surmised. ‘But I thought Razor was coming after us. Why would there be bids for us?’
‘He suspects we know about the game. The bids are to distract us. Draw our attention away from Razor.’
‘We’re just speculating, aren’t we?’
‘Yeah,’ Meghan agreed. They didn’t know for sure.
They had set up another meeting with Jurado, but the former killer didn’t know anything more. The twins exchanged a glance when they saw that his fingertips were bandaged.
The Harlem Stone Mafia heavies had lawyered up, and nothing useful was forthcoming on that front.
Andropov wasn’t making any progress, either. He had put out the word in his network and had met with several Mafia leaders, but no one offered any information on Nikolai or Razor.
Zeb and Angie were still out there. Moving from safe house to safe house. The daughter had made more calls, but this time no attackers had come.
‘We need to decide,’ Beth said as she looked at the call records, the numerous audio files on her screen.
‘Uh-huh,’ Meghan grunted. She knew what her sister was referring to. They had to make a call soon on either continuing with or ending the ad blitz.
She felt disappointed. She had hoped the media campaign would throw up a lead. Jurado’s confession and the Harlem gang’s attack had been the only outcome.
Neither of those had helped in identifying Nikolai or Razor.
The sisters didn’t have cold cases. They cracked each and every one they took on.
This might be our first.
And then the call came in, just after midday.
A message appeared on their cell phones. The call center manager asking them to patch into an ongoing call.
The sisters wore their headphones and conferenced in.
‘I know about Nikolai,’ a gravelly voice told the agent.
‘Who’s Nikolai, sir?’
‘He’s behind the attacks on Angie Konstantin.’
‘How do you know this, sir?’
‘I can’t tell you. I have stayed too long.’ The voice became nervous.
‘Sir, you need to give us more to claim the reward.’
‘I don’t care about the money,’ the voice grew frantic. ‘Nikolai will kill me if he finds out.’
‘How do you know him, sir?’
‘I am hanging up.’
Beth hurriedly typed a text and sent it to the manager.
‘Wait, sir. Can you meet Mr. Konstantin’s representatives?’
‘That’s even more dangerous. Why don’t you understand? I have taken a big risk in calling you. Nikolai listens to everything. He will kill —’
‘Sir,’ Meghan cut in, ‘my name is Meghan Petersen. I am authorized by Mr. Konstantin to give you this reward. However, we need more, sir, if we want to put Nikolai in prison.’
The caller hesitated.
‘How can I trust you?’ he demanded.
‘You can call Mr. Konstantin’s office.’ She recited a number. ‘He will personally verify what I am saying. Or you can call the NYPD.’
She gave another number. ‘They will confirm that we, my sister Beth and I, are legit.’
‘All that money’s no use if I am dead.’
‘NYPD will protect you, sir, if you give us enough on Nikolai.’
‘Let me think about it.’
‘Sir, you might have heard of the Harlem Stone Mafia’s attack on Angie Konstantin. Nikolai was behind that. The more you delay, the more risk she is in. Your information can help us close him down.’
‘I’m scared.’ The caller started hyperventilating. ‘I have seen Nikolai kill. I don’t want him to know about me.’
‘He won’t, sir.’
‘Can you meet me?’ Decisiveness in his voice, now.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘All right. Let me think about it. I will call back.’
‘What’s your name, sir?’
‘Why?’ Suspicious.
‘We can’t just refer to you as Caller A, sir.’
‘Oh, all right. Rufus. You can call me that.’
‘Please call again, Rufus. A lot is hanging on you.’
‘Don’t I know it,’ Rufus replied querulously and hung up.
Nikolai’s name wasn’t public knowledge, which was why Meghan had joined the call.
It looked like Rufus was the real deal, judging by what he had said.
‘He could be someone like Hidalgo,’ Meghan thought aloud. ‘Someone who’s done business with the Russian and is now scared for his life.’
Beth held up a finger. She was on the phone to the fence.
‘It’s me. Beth. Nope, we aren’t calling off the ads just yet. Stop. Listen to me. Did you come across anyone named Rufus?’
Meghan could hear Hidalgo, even though her sister was a few feet away and the call wasn’t on speaker.
‘You sure?’’ Beth asked and made a face when another burst of noise filled the air. ‘All right —.’ But the fence had hung up.
‘He sounded unhappy.’ Meghan absently made a paper plane and let it fly in the empty office.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Beth chuckled. ‘He said he didn’t know all the criminals in the world. Or Nikolai’s associates. That we shouldn’t be surprised if we see his or Jurado’s body.’
‘You told him that he wasn’t exactly a fine and upstanding citizen, didn’tcha? We wouldn’t shed a lot of tears if he was killed.’
‘I was getting there. He hung up.’
They worked in a comfortable silence as they checked the Rufuses in their databases, especially those for whom there were voice prints. None matched their caller’s.
He called the next day, at exactly the same time. He asked for Meghan by name, and when she responded, he demanded. ‘Bring the reward money in cash when we meet.’
She was in a glass-walled cabin in the call center, with Beth. The manager hovered outside with Pizaka and Chang. A screen in front of her ran a program, analyzing it, showing that the caller was nervous, fearful, his stress levels high.
‘Why can’t you tell me what you know, right now?’
‘You think I’m a fool?’ Rufus was shrill. ‘I want the reward. I need it to rebuild my life. We meet. You bring the money. I count it. I tell you everything. That’s how it’s gonna go down.’
Chang gave her a thumbs-up from outside. Agree, it meant.
Not so quickly, she thought.
‘We’ll bring a hundred thousand as a gesture of good faith. You’ll get the rest when we verify your information.’
‘You —’
‘Rufus, you get to keep the hundred thou no matter what happ
ens,’ she cut him off. ‘That’s the way this deal will happen.’
The two cops made angry faces at her hardball stance. She ignored them. She knew what she was doing. Giving in too quickly will rouse his suspicions.
‘Okay,’ Rufus replied, after a tense silence.
Chang closed his eyes and looked heavenward. ‘Great,’ Meghan told the caller. ‘We’ll meet —’
‘No. I’ll decide where we meet.’
‘Where?’
‘You know the Verrazano bridge?’
‘Yeah.’
The bridge, a double-decked suspension construction, connected Brooklyn to Staten Island.
‘There’s a juice bar near the Harbor Defense Museum, which isn’t far from the bridge. We’ll meet there. In two days, same time. No cops. Just you.’
‘It will be me and my sister.’
‘All right. But no more.’
‘How will we recognize you?’
‘You don’t worry about that. I know how the two of you look.’ Rufus hung up.
Chang burst into the room, Pizaka close behind.
‘Any trace on him?’ Beth asked.
‘Nope,’ the cop replied in disgust. ‘All we know is he was somewhere downtown. Traveling. Looks like he was in a vehicle.’
‘It could be a trap.’
Chapter Forty-One
‘It could be Razor who called,’ Beth continued. ‘It could,’ Meghan admitted. ‘Do we have a choice, however?’
The ensuing silence was her reply.
‘You’ll wear a wire,’ Pizaka began. ‘We’ll have officers —’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she glared at him. ‘We’ll handle this. Our way. No cops, no cruisers. Neither of you will be present.’
‘But —’
‘Keep out of it, Pizaka.’
There are three obvious ways to outmaneuver a trap.
Don’t walk into one is the first.
Meghan and Beth had no such choice.
The third option is to walk in blindly, hope and pray.