The darkness, and his vantage point, limited his visibility, but the Undertaker was just able to make out the woman’s body hitting the water. There was a splash, with the faint moonlight casting a strange reddish hue on the spray. For a long moment, the body remained on the surface, then the sea seemed to boil in swirling ropes of frothing red and white.
The Undertaker stepped back from the railing. He was used to witnessing the throes of pain, and death was a longtime companion of his, but this was like nothing he had ever experienced. His hands, the instruments of his work, were trembling.
XLVI
Michael was used to dealing with unforeseen delays. “Hurry up and wait” was a catchphrase of the military, but it felt even worse in civilian clothes. In the days and weeks that followed the burning down of the strip club, Michael had continued to work the wrongful death suit of Karina Boyko. His efforts felt anticlimactic, though. With Driscoll’s disappearance, there was little urgency. Under Florida statute, Driscoll couldn’t be declared dead for a minimum of five years. As the legal representative for Karina’s family, he was targeting Driscoll’s estate, but the process would be long and drawn out. None of this felt like justice was being served.
That was why Michael wasn’t surprised when Carol led off her morning call to him with the words, “Bad news.”
“What now?”
“Miami Maritime called to say they located a wreck identified as the Seacreto.”
It had been Michael’s hope that the ship would be found with its crew, and that he might get answers out of them. “Where?” he asked.
“A few miles offshore Cape Coral.”
“Any sign of the crew?”
“Afraid not.”
“Dark Ghoul tied up all the loose ends.”
“They’re in the process of checking marina videotapes in Cape Coral and should be able to give us a time line on when it was docked and any visitors that might have come and gone. They do seem to share your assessment that the Seacreto’s sinking was ‘suspicious.’”
“I’m shocked. Gambling in Casablanca.”
* * *
Two hours later, Carol called for a second time. “I think you’ll want to come over to my office.”
“What’s up?”
“I’ve got some news about an elf,” she said.
Not more than a minute later, Michael turned the corner into Carol’s office. Jake looked impressed by how quickly he’d gotten there. “Did you fly?”
As Michael sat down and regained his breath, Carol handed the two men paperwork she’d printed out.
“It helped having contacts in Las Vegas Metro. It also helped that there’s only been one individual in the state of Nevada ever to have an alias of Keebler. Meet Anthony Russo, aka Keebler. It took this long to connect Russo with his alias because during his last stay in the joint he went by the nickname Big Tony.”
Michael started going through Anthony Russo’s rap sheet, pausing at the copy of his picture. Even though it was grainy, you could see his big cheeks and curly hair. However, Russo was six foot three and weighed three hundred pounds. He’d served time for aggravated assault, battery, pimping and pandering, and carrying a concealed weapon.
“I was told Keebler has the disposition of an angry rattlesnake,” Carol said.
“They don’t make elves like they used to,” Michael said.
“As you can see by his record of arrests and prosecutions, his last conviction was almost a decade ago.”
“Don’t tell us he turned over a new leaf,” Jake said.
“I won’t. For the last eight years he’s been working as hired muscle for media mogul Max Miller.”
All that alliteration prompted Carol to take a breath before adding, “Miller inherited a fortune and built on it. He was a wunderkind in the entertainment business, hitting it big in music and movies in Hollywood. Then he traveled 250 miles to the other entertainment capital of the world after getting a controlling interest in the Double Y, the Yin-Yang Casino and Convention Center.”
“Max Miller,” Michael said. “I know that name.”
“Isn’t he the guy who held some poor woman by her ankles from an upper floor balcony?” Jake asked. “I seem to remember there was a video of her screaming in terror.”
“That’s our Max. Also known by the name of Mad Max because of his penchant for acting crazy. He pulled that high-rise stunt while he was still in Hollywood’s favor and bought his way out of any repercussions. Miller took his leave of LA before #MeToo. Since ending up in Vegas, he’s gained a reputation as a modern-day Howard Hughes.”
“Who?” Jake asked.
“You’re making me feel old,” Carol said.
“He was that guy DiCaprio played in The Aviator,” Michael said.
Carol amplified on that. “Hughes was this reclusive larger-than-life billionaire who took up residence in the penthouse at the Desert Inn, and rather than move out, just decided to buy the entire casino so that he could stay put. That’s kind of what Max Miller did. He took over the penthouse at the Yin-Yang, and Keebler and the rest of his special security team live on the floor below him.”
“Is Miller a recluse like Hughes was?” Michael asked.
She shook her head. “He seems to enjoy playing the big shot; if you google his image, you can see how he’s always getting his picture taken with athletes and celebrities. Although for the last few years his penthouse has been off-limits to everyone. That’s quite a change from the parties he used to throw up there. Most days Miller just makes the rounds of the Yin-Yang.”
“I want to see about getting my picture taken with him,” Michael said. “Tomorrow, I’m traveling to Las Vegas.”
It wasn’t a request, or a question.
“I’d like to go as well,” Jake said.
“The two of you going off half-cocked won’t help matters,” Carol said.
Michael said, “Keebler is my link to Nataliya, as well as the American girl taken from Driscoll’s H2B workers’ housing compound. And since Nataliya’s family recently retained my services as her lawyer, if there is even a chance my client is in Las Vegas, I’m obligated to try and meet with her.”
“Then I would suggest you talk to Deke and get him to agree to your plan.”
“What about me?” asked Jake.
“If Michael gets Deke’s blessing, you’ll get mine.”
Michael was already halfway out of his seat when Carol raised her hand and signaled for him to stop. “Hold your horses. We’re not done here yet. This morning USCIS finally got back to us. Per my request, they included a picture of Nataliya Nahorny.”
Carol handed copies of her photo to Michael and Jake.
“Beautiful green eyes,” Jake said. “Sort of reminds me of Lily. All these poor kids who just seem to have disappeared.”
“All the more reason for our forming a search party,” Michael said.
He hurried out of the office, going in search of Deke to ask about booking a flight to Las Vegas.
XLVII
When Michael arrived home, he inhaled deeply. Tepsi baytinijan, a casserole consisting of eggplant, tomatoes, onions, peppers, potatoes, and lamb meatballs served over rice, was a favorite dish of his. Usually Mona reserved making it for special occasions.
“What did I do to deserve such royal treatment?” Michael said.
He and Mona came together just outside the kitchen. The two of them kissed and Michael said, “Better watch out. You’re smelling so good I’ll want to eat you.”
“I was not aware that I was on the menu,” she said.
“You are tonight’s special.”
Michael took another deep breath, but not to take in the aroma of the food. He didn’t want to eat his favorite dish under false pretenses. It was better just to come out and tell Mona about his trip, rather than put off the news until after they dined.
“I have to go to Las Vegas tomorrow,” he said.
Mona’s posture stiffened just a little. “Las Vegas?”
/> “I’ll be going with Jake on business.”
She didn’t speak for a few seconds, then asked, “For how long?”
Mona never liked it when the two of them were apart.
“I’m not sure. I hope it’s just for a few days.”
“I see.”
“I didn’t know about the news until late today,” he said.
Instead of answering directly, Mona said, “I need to take our dinner out of the oven, or it will be overdone.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“You can tell me about this business of yours.”
“Before I do that, I need to backtrack, and I need to apologize. There are some things I should have told you previously.”
“Then I would hear them now.”
After Mona turned off the oven, the two of them sat on the sofa in their small living room. Holding his wife’s hand, Michael said, “Do you remember that night about two months ago when I told you that Jake and I needed to go to Panama City to meet with my client?”
Mona nodded.
“What I didn’t mention is that we went to a strip club where she had been working as a dancer. The reason I didn’t tell you is because I know how much you worry, especially when I’m in a potentially dangerous situation.”
“And were you in a dangerous situation?”
“The night was not without its risks, but I’d like to think I always had control of the situation. In my defense, I should point out that the US government spent millions of dollars on my training to make sure I’m proficient at handling adverse conditions. I know I should have come clean with you, but as much as I didn’t want to let you down, I still felt a responsibility to act as I did for the sake of my client.”
“What of your responsibility to us?” Mona asked.
“I always try to be mindful of that.”
“In one of the first conversations we ever had, you told me that you wanted to be a lawyer.”
“I meant what I said.”
“And are you going to Las Vegas as a lawyer?” she asked.
“I’m going there in the hopes of meeting my client.”
“Will you be putting yourself in danger by traveling there?”
“I’ll try to avoid that.” Michael paused before continuing. He didn’t want to be evasive to the woman he loved. “But if the situation calls for it, I’m prepared to make this a rescue mission.”
Mona surprised him by smiling. “When I thought I was going to die, and you came to my rescue, I wondered if an angel had come to deliver me.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“You saved my life.”
“You can believe that if you want, but the way I see it, from the moment you came into my life, it was you who saved me.”
Both of them reached for the other’s hands. Mona said, “I do not like the idea of you going into danger, but we will not stand in the way of you and your green feet.”
Michael expressed his amusement by saying in a voice of mock alarm, “What is that?”
It was what Mona had said on the first day of their marriage when she spied Michael’s backside tattoo. As far as she had known, the only tattoo her husband had was the jade-green A+ on his chest. The green feet on his derriere had come as a total surprise.
Since then, whenever either of them wanted the other to laugh, all they had to do was say in a startled tone, “What is that?”
The green feet had been a symbol for pararescuemen since Vietnam. Sikorsky HH-3E helicopters were known for leaving their marks on rice fields and green paddies, massive imprints that looked like huge green feet. Wherever the Sikorsky helicopters went, so did the PJs on their rescue missions, and a catchphrase was born: “green feet mean rescue.”
Mona said, “It was a shocking sight to be sure. I did not expect to see lime-colored appendages confronting me as they did.”
Michael waggled his backside. “I think you secretly like my green feet.”
“I fear you are deluded, husband,” she said.
Mona tried to keep from smiling, but was not altogether successful.
XLVIII
Hunkered down together, Michael and Jake strategized during their flight to Las Vegas. For Michael, there was a sense of urgency. Everything he was finding out about Max Miller played to his fears. If Nataliya was with him, he was convinced her life was in jeopardy.
Michael handed Jake a memory card. “I created a file last night with all sorts of stuff about Max Miller. You know how Michael Jackson supposedly got away with crimes in plain sight, and Jeffrey Epstein paraded underage girls for all the world to see? My gut tells me Miller has been doing much of the same for a long time. People say he’s an eccentric and don’t look beyond that. Michael Jackson had Neverland Ranch, and Epstein had his Pedophile Island; Miller’s got the penthouse in the Yin-Yang.”
“It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea that women might be imprisoned in his penthouse,” Jake said.
“That’s what Miller and people like him count on. What we know for sure is that a few years ago there was an extensive remodel of his penthouse. After the work was finished, you could no longer see inside. And since completing that remodel, Miller stopped all his entertaining. No one has been in the penthouse since then.”
Jake said, “I don’t want to throw shade on what you’re saying, but it makes no sense to me that Miller would have sent his henchmen halfway across the country to get Nataliya and transport her back to Las Vegas. Why take that risk? Why not target someone local?”
“Maybe he wanted to avoid a spotlight being shined in his backyard. Or maybe he was quite particular in getting what he wanted, and Vicky was his special procurer, just like Ghislaine Maxwell supposedly recruited girls for Epstein.”
“There was something unique about Nataliya?”
“That’s my guess. And let’s not forget the American girl that Keebler and company traveled to Florida for.”
“How is it that wealthy sicko predators always seem to find individuals willing to pimp for them?” Jake said.
“Poor people are crazy; rich people are eccentric. Moon Man buys what he wants. He’s also bought his way out of a lot of trouble. It’s in that file I just gave you.”
“Moon Man?”
“One of Miller’s nicknames, along with Mad Max, although neither is said in his presence. Years ago, Miller was known for his full moon parties. He was obsessive about it, people said. You know how the crazies supposedly act up during a full moon? That’s Miller all over. But from most accounts, Miller’s kind of madness doesn’t need a full moon.”
“Isn’t it about that lunar time of the month?”
“I think we’re three or four nights away.”
A touch of turbulence shook the plane, and Jake gripped his arm-rests. “Did I mention that I don’t like flying?”
“Not to me.”
“The only thing I like about flying is the landing part.”
Michael asked, “Ever been to Las Vegas?”
Jake shook his head. “Never. What about you?”
Michael nodded. “For half a year I was with the 58th Rescue Squadron at Nellis Air Force Base, which is around ten miles outside of Las Vegas. The 58th is known as the guardian angel squadron.”
“Any friends of yours still at the base?”
Michael nodded. “A few very good friends.”
Their conversation tapered off, and both men continued to prep for their mission. Michael used his laptop to review footage taken from some of Miller’s full moon parties, before he had chosen to live a cloistered lifestyle. One piece of film, in particular, Michael found himself returning to watch over and over.
In the tape, Miller was heard shouting, “The windows are unbreakable. They are indestructible. The big, bad wolf could huff and puff, but never blow them down. They are impregnable and unassailable!”
His speech was frenetic, and Miller’s guests cheered on his pronouncement. The camera zoomed in on his eyes. There was somethi
ng kaleidoscopic about them.
“They are unbreakable!” he repeated; his declaration was met with applause and shouts.
The partygoers gathered around for a spectacle, and the Moon Man didn’t disappoint them. He sprinted toward the window, slamming into it. The loud impact made the spectators recoil, but the window didn’t shatter. Instead, Miller bounced off the glass and landed on his feet.
Raising his arms to the loud cheers, Miller once more shouted, “Unbreakable!”
“Again!” yelled a man, and others took up his call. “Again! Again!”
A crowd formed behind Miller. He swayed from side to side, readying for his next assault upon the window. Behind him his guests began to imitate Miller’s movements, almost as if they were in a conga line.
“Ready?” shouted Miller.
“Ready for what?” asked a striking-looking woman, an actress Michael recognized. She was one of several celebrities attending the party.
“Ready to dance with the universe!” Miller shouted. His words resonated with the crowd behind him.
And then he ran at the window, throwing himself with his hands and legs spread out as if to embrace the skyline. He struck the glass, the loud crash silencing the crowd, but only for a moment. The revelers began yelling and applauding, then some of them decided to join in on the fun. Men and women ran at the glass, bouncing into it. But Max was not to be outdone.
He parodied a martial arts fighter with screams and posturing, and then ran at the window, striking it with a spinning heel kick.
“Unbreakable!” he screamed.
XLIX
Am I having a conversation with myself?” Gina asked.
Too late, Deke responded to what she was saying. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head in annoyance. “When you started talking about Bines, I got this feeling that I was missing something, but couldn’t put my finger on it. That always drives me crazy.”
The two lawyers were brainstorming the potential story lines for the Welcome Mat case in the smallest of the firm’s conference rooms. Deke believed trials were won or lost through the story that was presented. Complex cases needed to be simplified for the jury. That didn’t mean dumbing matters down; it meant making them understandable. Deke had earned a reputation for making things look simple to juries, but as he often said, “Nothing is more difficult than simple.”
Inhuman Trafficking Page 25