The Vanishing Angle

by Linda Ladd

  “Have you personally witnessed him passing drugs, here or at the farm, or anywhere at any time?”

  “No, why would I? See that family walking over there on the side of the road? The ones eating the ice cream cones? For all we know, they could be his mules. There could be drugs in their backpacks. Nobody checks people’s bags around here. Nobody checks anything. Then there’s that great big ocean right over there. Who would be expecting a drug runner to pass product in this vacation paradise?”

  “So you’re saying he’s moving drugs from one beach house to the next?”

  “Exactly. All at busy, popular beach resorts. I don’t know if I’m right or if I can prove it. They’re good, and they’re careful. I think they’ll be using family units like the one we just passed.”

  “Still seems a dangerous way to operate. You really think they’re involving children in these families?”

  Sokolov nodded. He slowed down when a baby deer ran across the street after its mother. “Petrov liked to use families—the children make good cover. Normal American families, just out for fun in the sun. Looks innocent, don’t you think?”

  “Did you use children in your operations?”

  “No, but he always did. Those old networks are gone, but if he did start up a new one, there would be kids involved. I hope they’re not trafficking those children, but I wouldn’t doubt it, not when it’s Vasily Petrov and Blackwood, with his vile perversions.”

  “How close is your house to his?”

  “Four houses north, right on the beach. Oceanfront properties on Tarpon are built close together. I had a widow’s watch built atop the roof for easier surveillance.”

  “I ought to just shoot you right now.”

  “Yes, of course. But my espionage occurred a long time ago when I was young. I could shoot you for the same thing, could I not?”

  Novak said nothing.

  “You must know the statistics, do you not, Novak? Heroin overdoses kill hundreds of Americans every week, maybe more by now. Most of those drugs come through at your southern border, so that leaves this route less scrutinized, except by the patrols of the Coast Guard cutters. Petrov will have found a way for his couriers to look perfectly innocent to them and all other law enforcement officers.”

  Novak knew those statistics and that opioid use was now in epidemic proportions. It was a terrible problem that needed to be solved, especially if these criminals were targeting kids.

  “Up top on the roof, we can see straight over into Blackwood’s place. He’s got big side windows on the second level deck that we can see through, and the decks are open, so we can watch whoever comes out, as well as anyone on their stretch of beachfront. Having a telescope in the widow’s walk raises no suspicions. Lots of houses have them to watch the tankers and ships out on the horizons. I’m hoping we can video a drug drop.”

  “That’s gonna take round the clock surveillance.”

  “Yes, of course, it will. We can take turns sleeping. He won’t stay here very long, although he seems to like this place better than the others. It may be as long as a week, maybe longer. I can’t figure that. I hope we can spot a courier and follow them to the drop.”

  “How long is the beach?”

  “Three miles, I guess, something like that. We’ll need to conceal our identities with ball caps and sunglasses. They could possibly recognize us. They’ve seen you close up and personal. Petrov knows you on sight now, knows you’re a threat. Your size and height alone will give you away. I’ve learned how to melt into the woodwork, so I doubt they’ll know I’m anywhere around.”

  “You can’t be sure Petrov doesn’t remember you. You were on the same team.”

  “Years ago we were, but we only met briefly a time or two. I was a new trainee among many others. He was an important figure in Moscow back then. I was a cog in his big wheel. I was still patriotic at that time, and ready to give my life for Mother Russia. There’s no way he’ll remember me.”

  “You better hope he doesn’t.”

  “They took my daughter, just stole her away in the dead of night. They didn’t know Irina was my daughter. Blackwood saw my beautiful baby girl, wanted her, and took her. Petrov made sure my wife stopped complaining. He beat her so terribly that she never regained hearing in her right ear. Until she died, she lived in terror that he’d come back and kill her.”

  “Nobody in your government made any effort to stop them from taking Irina out of Russia?”

  “No. It was easy for them. My wife was never the same after that day. Even after I returned from deployment and started searching for Irina. She died while I was in prison. Years passed before I found out the truth about who took our daughter.”

  “I take it you’ve got a plan worked out now.”

  “I’m working on one.”

  “Work faster. We can’t hang around here long and not be made.”

  “Like I said, our surveillance is twofold. If this is a depot for opioid trade, we need to document that and incriminate everyone involved.”

  Novak looked around the idyllic setting. He agreed with Sokolov. This place was perfect, as any popular island resort would be. Choosing a place like this, with this kind of small town ambience and a long beach providing access to open seas was a smart move. Add to that the boats darting around everywhere offshore, and any craft coming north from the next tourist spot would never be noticed. Nobody in their right mind would suspect a long-time famous former senator would be running a drug operation out of his vacation homes, even with constant whispers of his corruption. “They transfer from resort to resort, right? It’s coming into the country from the sea.”

  “That’s my guess. My focus has always been on Irina. Bringing down the drugs is yours.”

  “How often does Blackwood come down here?”

  “Every month or so, he visits them all, starting at Nag’s Head and traveling south from there. Sometimes he goes north instead, with stops at Atlantic City and Newport. He visits these places too often for it to be a normal thing. That’s what makes me suspicious. The good thing about it is that Irina is often alone out here. His men hang around, but don’t dog her footsteps like they do in Virginia. We can probably approach her without being seen. I don’t think she knows yet that Justin’s dead, so she’s probably waiting for a chance to sneak away and go back home. Other than by boat, there’s only one way off the island, so she’s stuck here for the time being.”

  “I’m betting she knows plenty about how they’re passing drugs.”

  “She has to. But she’s addicted and is afraid to turn them in.”

  “You think that’s why he addicted her?”

  Sokolov nodded. “He did it strictly for control. She’s headstrong. I think he forcibly injects her when she tries to wean herself off the heroin. I’ve seen him hold her down and do it on my surveillance tapes. He’s plain evil.”

  Blackwood was going down hard. Novak was sure of that much. He didn’t like the idea of sitting around on a beach and hoping to get a glimpse of some drug deal. “We need to force action here. Take her out of his control, get her somewhere safe, and then come back for Petrov.”

  “You need to be more patient. I’m surprised you’re not. I didn’t peg you as impetuous.”

  “I’m not patient, no, but I’m not stupid, either. I’ll act as soon as I see a good opening.”

  “You cannot put my daughter in danger.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “We need video evidence showing the dealers pushing the drugs.”

  “That takes too much time.”

  “Time we’ve got. I know how Petrov does things. He’s slow and methodical. That’s the way he’ll set this thing up. He never hurries anything. That’s why he doesn’t get caught.”

  Sokolov crossed an intersection at Bonito Drive. They had been passing plenty of big and fancy beach houses
with glorious views of the Atlantic Ocean. It had to be expensive to live out there.

  “This is home.” Sokolov turned into the driveway of a large, two-storied gray clapboard-sided house. It was long and narrow with tiny side yards, but had lots of tropical foliage and palmettos hugging the half-moon driveway. Novak could see the widow’s walk high above the roof. It was enclosed with white bannisters, and would be the perfect place to set up a surveillance post. Sokolov knew what he was doing, all right.

  Inside, the beach house was hot as hell, but beautiful all the same. Expecting it to be unused and closed up with Cold War-era furnishings, he was surprised by the large airy white rooms and windowed walls, all closed to the sun, making it dim inside. It must have cost Sokolov a small fortune, even years ago. Sokolov moved around, turning on the air conditioner, pulling sheets off the furniture, yanking open the wood blinds and shutters. The windows were tinted glass, which prevented glare and provided privacy. Though the view was magnificent, the house had few furnishings. The living room had one long couch and two recliners, and the kitchen had a granite island. Both bedrooms on the main floor looked comfortable, with king-size beds and mirrored dressers.

  The second floor had four bedrooms with nothing inside. An enclosed stair at the end of the hall led up to the open-air widow’s walk. They climbed the steps and came out into the hot sunlight and brisk ocean breezes. The smell of the sea filled Novak’s senses. He wished he was out there on his boat surveilling the island, instead of here. The roof was about even with some of the tallest palm trees. They could sit up there and observe anything that moved down on the sand for the entire length of the beach. It was midday, and he could see at least a hundred people at the other end of the beach where there was a cluster of tall condominiums. Everyone was sunning and swimming in the surf or playing beach volleyball. Lots of tide pools glistened and reflected the sun like silver mirrors. Some mothers were sitting in them with their babies, while the infants splashed in seawater warmed by the sun. A long line of ten brown pelicans flew by at eye level. Sokolov had been right. This end of the beach was relatively deserted.

  Sokolov went back downstairs, returning a few minutes later with a honey of a high-powered telescope. He quickly set it up on a tripod and pointed it out to sea. “That’s Blackwood’s place down there. See the beige stucco house with two decks and the brown roof?”

  Novak could see it well. It looked nice enough, though smaller than Sokolov’s house. Both the Senator’s decks were high off the ground and extended a ways over the sand. Both decks were deserted. One guy was fishing in the surf two doors down, and one couple was sitting on a blanket not far from him. Nobody moved in or around Blackwood’s house. It looked closed up and empty. “You sure they came here? Looks like nobody’s home.”

  “They’re here, all right. My tracker puts their car inside that very garage. I think they’re here to get Irina back under control. Their garage faces Tarpon, but they usually leave some of their cars parked outside on the driveway. They’ll show up out on the beach eventually. Especially Irina, unless he’s got her locked in her room. He does that when she’s being difficult.”

  “How long have you been watching them?”

  “Several months.”

  Novak pulled up a folding beach chair and focused the telescope out at sea, then slowly moved it back toward Blackwood’s house. Up close, he could see through the windows. Nothing moved inside. The place looked unoccupied. The glass windows facing the water, which he couldn’t see well, would be a treasure trove after dark when the interior lights came on. He would be able to watch what they did from the beach if the tide didn’t come in too high. He felt his muscles start to relax.

  Sokolov could be right with his theory. This could be a prime location to move those drugs. With new tourists coming in and out on a daily basis and condo rentals changing hands every week, nobody would be around long enough to notice irregular contacts made from a house at the quiet end of the beach. Nobody would think twice about strangers showing up. He sat up and set his gaze out on the deep blue waters of the Atlantic, where whitecaps flashed like white diamonds. If he had to set up a drug operation from here, that’s where they’d pass the drugs to the next runner, right out there, far past the breakers, boat-to-boat. The beach house was just a depot, all right.

  They set up binocular cameras on the widow’s walk and inside a second-floor bedroom window. The house was huge and could sleep at least twelve, but that was good. Novak could have his own floor without listening to the constant chit-chat of the Russian. He would sleep gun in hand for the foreseeable future. It didn’t take long to set the place up to spy on their prey. The widow’s walk was by far the best spot.

  Novak gave Sokolov credit for the excellence of his set-up, but he still found it a mighty big coincidence that Sokolov happened to have a beach house located only yards from Blackwood’s place. His story made sense, but Novak still wondered. He was unsure about a lot of things that his new Russian cohort had told him. Mainly, Sokolov was acting awfully chipper for a father whose daughter was in so much trouble and had been so for a decade. He seemed fine with taking things slow and easy while his child was being molested by a perverted old man. He said he’d been unable to watch Blackwood and Irina on his tapes, but had he? He seemed a little too calm and collected, even for a jaded ex-spy. None of those questions sat well in Novak’s mind.

  Sokolov could and should have moved a long time ago to get his kid out of that hellhole. Novak would have. Irina liked to drive around in her convertible, didn’t she? Why not approach her back then at the horse farm before Justin ended up in the morgue? Why hadn’t Sokolov done it? That was a good question that he needed to answer. Novak’s trust in the man disintegrated more with every passing hour.

  Chapter 13

  Throughout the first day they watched Blackwood’s beach house around the clock. All remained quiet, inside and out, most drapes drawn, and nobody to be seen. Novak and Sokolov each took turns at the roof, while the other caught some sleep. The beige stucco house appeared like all the others lined up to face the sea, except that no one came outside to wade in the surf or laze around on the beach. There was no sign of Irina, Blackwood, or Petrov. Novak got worried, thinking that Sokolov was dead wrong about the Fripp Island property.

  But on day two, there was a big change. Early in the morning, Novak spotted Irina when she walked out onto the upper deck. She was wearing a tiny red bikini, and carried a water bottle and a paperback book. She looked impossibly skinny, almost anorexic, and yet she was with child. He watched her lie down on a chaise longue and appear to fall asleep. She looked no worse for wear after returning to her father’s house, not from what Novak could tell. That was a definite relief until Blackwood showed up and joined her on the deck. He wore a terrycloth robe over a bathing suit and came out of the same room that she had. Sitting down on a deck chair, he leaned close to her, apparently having a lot to say. His face looked serious, and more angry by the minute. Irina kept her eyes closed, looking sullen and defiant, unresponsive to whatever he was telling her. They were definitely still at odds, all right, but it wasn’t coming to blows. Not yet, anyhow.

  After a time of fruitless barking at her, Blackwood stood up, palms planted on his hips. He looked old and bitter and frustrated as he stalked back into the house. Irina showed no reaction to his departure. At that point, Novak hoped that Irina remained alive long enough to get her away from him. She didn’t appear to have been beaten up again, though, or she was simply high out of her head. So they were keeping her supplied with heroin. If she continued her willful obstinacy to whatever Blackwood was steamed about, they’d probably eventually withhold the drugs until she decided to cooperate.

  Novak had a sinking feeling that inside that house, Blackwood didn’t mind acting on his true interest with that poor teenage girl. Although Sokolov didn’t express those sentiments aloud, his beet-red expression told Novak that he believed se
xual abuse was still going on. That was probably why Irina was given her brief bits of freedom. She had been forced to accept her fate a long time ago, and was resigned to do what he wanted.

  Novak kept watching. He felt as if something awful was about to happen. Later that morning, he perked up when a carload of visitors showed up in a dark blue Camry. It was a family unit—father, mother, and two children. Both looked between five and ten years old. The parents were dark-haired, while both kids were towheaded. All had deep tans and were dressed like everybody else out on that beach. They all climbed out of their car and went inside Blackwood’s house, as if they were simply paying a call to friends who lived on the beach. More likely, they were drug mules paying a supply call on a gang of armed thugs. It was looking more and more as if Sokolov’s theory of family drug runners was right on target.

  Several days passed with the same family arriving at Blackwood’s house around the same time, late morning into the noon hour, always all four of them. They would always enter through the front door in broad daylight. The parents carried totes or backpacks with beach towels draped over their arms, as if they were headed out to the sand. After their arrival, Novak never saw either parent out on the porches or on the sand, but the two children usually appeared on the lower deck before running down to play on the beach. Irina sometimes came out with them. Novak had a feeling she was the designated babysitter while the parents filled beach bags with illegal pills and heroin. Each visit lasted several hours, and then they would trail back to the car and drive away. Today, they were still closeted inside. Novak looked around the street for unusual activity. The houses across Tarpon Boulevard were quiet, nobody outside, and the beachfront had three groups of people, with none anywhere close to Blackwood’s place.