Chapter 11 #2
Lyov had been his serzhant—his sergeant—in many battles. He was tough and efficient and dependable. And when this first shipment came in, he was promised a $100,000 bonus.
So why the hell wasn’t he reporting in?
At 1800 hours, Nikitin picked up his satphone and dialed Lyov’s number, on the off chance Lyov had lost his cellphone or—impossible!—had it taken from him. He listened, impotent, to the endless ringing. Nikitin’s thumb pressed the ‘off’ button as his jaw clenched. Chert! Lyov had failed?
This was beyond bad news. His masters, the vory, expected everything to run smoothly. They were investing a lot of money, and looking to invest even more in the future. They had big plans and were unforgiving when it came to messes.
Having two of his enforcers unaccounted for was an example of gross mismanagement. Or so the vory would think. Somehow, Nikitin had placed his hands inside a wasps’ nest, when he’d only wanted to take care of minor insubordination, before it ballooned out of control.
And here it was, out of control.
This wouldn’t do. This mess had to be taken care of immediately.
At least he could be sure of one thing. His satphone ran on Thuraya, making his phone untraceable. The police could have no idea where he was or who he was. For all they could tell, he could be on the moon. His men had gone in clean, with nothing traceable. So they had nothing really to go on.
Lyov wouldn’t talk. Neither would Ivan. Whatever happened, they would keep their mouths shut.
Maybe this disaster could be contained, he thought. If not, heads would roll. Starting with his own.
“Let’s run through it again, Chloe,” Lt. Bill Kelly said gently. When Mike tensed by her side, Chloe put a hand on his forearm. Normally hard as steel anyway, he was so tense she could see the individual muscles in his arm.
“It’s okay, Mike.” His jaw muscles were so clenched it was surprising enamel wasn’t shooting out his ears. He almost quivered with stress under her hand.
She’d been pampered, been plied with endless cups of tea, had received hugs and kisses from Merry and Gracie, who had only been told that Aunt Chloe had a headache. Ellen and Nicole had all but rubbed her feet for her.
No one had thought to comfort Mike, who’d been in battle, had killed a man for her.
“She’s freaked. She’s scared. She’s been through hell,” Mike told the lieutenant, biting off each word. “She’s gone over this a thousand times.”
“I understand that. But we need to for Chloe to remember everything, because the guy we’ve got in custody isn’t talking. I think he’s considering himself some kind of political prisoner. So our only clue is Chloe.”
Mike’s jaw muscles jumped. “Did you do what I said?”
Lieutenant Kelly must have the patience of a saint because he didn’t roll his eyes or bristle at Mike’s tone.
“Yes. The body in the morgue is under a different name and the guy in the hospital isn’t registered at all.
We took out the footage at the shelter. If those were sent, the guy running the op won’t have a clue what happened to them.
He won’t even know if they made it to the shelter.
And we’ve got cops stationed around the shelter, no one’s getting in. ”
“The vehicle they came in?”
The lieutenant sighed. “Rental. Paid for by corporate credit card made out to Joseph Merck. Who doesn’t exist. The corporation is a shell. We’re still investigating. Now can I continue talking to Chloe?”
Mike nodded jerkily.
The lieutenant opened his notebook and gave her a kind look. “So, Chloe, let’s run through it just one more time, then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Chloe tried to smile for him. She’d gotten to know him well in the six months since that terrible night Mike had been accused of assaulting a woman.
He was almost a member of the family, someone who dropped by unannounced to watch a ball game with Harry and Sam and Mike and stayed for dinner. He was tough, kind under his cynical cop veneer, overworked. A good guy.
It was clear to Chloe that he was interrogating her here in Harry’s apartment, and not in police headquarters, as a courtesy to her and to Mike, who’d been a colleague and was a friend. As were Harry and Sam.
“You don’t have any more information about the two men?” she asked. It was still such a surprise that she’d been attacked, completely out of nowhere.
“No, ma’am. The dead man—" he fixed Mike with a hard stare and Mike stared right back. If there was one thing about Mike she knew, it was that he couldn’t be intimidated.
“The dead man had nothing on his person that could identify him. No wallet, no cell phone, no ID at all. The tags had been cut off his clothes. I was told informally by the coroner’s assistant that he had gold fillings that weren’t done in this country, but that’s about it.
AFIS results show his fingerprints not on file anywhere in the US. We’re still waiting for IEAG results.”
“International fingerprint database,” Mike explained.
“But Russia’s not a party to IAEG.” Bill huffed out an exasperated breath.
“So if they are Russian, he won’t be in their system either.
I heard that the other guy’s cell rang. Turns out the caller is untraceable.
We’re still figuring out how that can happen.
So, Chloe. Starting from the beginning. How did they know where you were? ”
“I don’t know,” Chloe said slowly, starting to feel woozy.
Mike’s hand covered hers, warm and strong and safe.
She definitely wanted to answer questions but delayed shock was catching up with her.
“I was in the supply room, which not many people know about. The door they came in isn’t used much, either.
Most people enter the room by the door all of you used, which gives out onto a small terrace and then out onto the parking lot.
You’d have to be familiar with the shelter’s layout to know to use that door. ”
Bill looked up. “Are the blueprints on file anywhere?”
Chloe’s mind went blank. She had no idea.
“We can check that,” said Mike. “I’ve got a friend in the Land Registry Office. I’ll text him now.”
“So. You’re in this supply room.”
Chloe nodded. “Folding clothes.”
“Is that something you do normally?”
“Donations of clothes are made in various points in the city and are collected and brought to the shelter on Wednesday afternoons. So, yes, in answer to your question, I’m often folding and sorting clothes on Wednesday afternoons.”
“And who knows this?”
Chloe lifted her shoulders. “Almost everyone at the shelter, I should think. It’s not a secret.”
“So the men came in through the door and what? What did you think?“
“I tried to talk myself out of it, but I was instantly terrified,” Chloe confessed. “There was something about the way they moved, something in their eyes…” She shivered.
“Here, honey.” Mike reached behind them for a small blanket Ellen kept on the couch in case Gracie got cold. He wrapped it around her shoulders, kissed her temple.
Absolutely no one reacted. Not Harry or Sam or Ellen or Nicole. Not even Bill Kelly. It was as if Mike hugging her and kissing her had become the new norm.
“I told you they moved like soldiers.” Mike’s jaw tightened. “Possibly Russian soldiers. The Soviet Union and now the Russian Federation doesn’t recruit soldiers on the basis of their kindness. They treat their soldiers brutally and the soldiers are brutal in return.”
Bill nodded, mouth downturned. “What did they say to you, Chloe?”
She rubbed her forehead in frustration. “Well, that’s the thing. They didn’t say much at all really. Just that I was supposed to pay attention to them. They said that over and over. And pulled out a long black knife to sort of drive that concept home. They put the knife under my eye.”
Mike turned his head slowly. His eyes met Bill’s. “Keep that guy under lock and key.” He made a sound in his throat that sounded scarily like a growl.
“Yeah. He’s not going anywhere and you’re not coming near him. We picked the knife up. It’s a Kizlyar. You pegged it, Mike.”
“Russian combat knife. Used by their Army and Special Forces. Christ.” Harry rubbed his forehead.
A Russian combat knife. Chloe tucked that away among the many terrifying and absolutely puzzling details of what had happened today.
Bill wrote something in his notebook. “So, Chloe. You were supposed to pay attention. To what?”
“They never said. They got…sidetracked.”
By attempted rape. The words quivered in the air. Mike’s breathing was audible, as if he were pushing some great weight.
“Is there any reason why two men, possibly soldiers, possibly Russian, would want to target you?”
She’d barely thought of anything else on the ride to the hospital and the ride back home. “I’ve thought and thought, but I pull a complete blank.”
“No enemies?”
“No. I sometimes help RBK with—ahm—some special projects.” Chloe looked at Mike and Harry and Sam, not knowing how much she could say.
“He knows,” Mike interjected. “Several cops know what we do.”
“Could this be revenge? From some bozo whose wife you helped get away?” Bill asked.
Chloe thought about it carefully. “In theory. But the last woman who came to us at RBK, her husband killed himself a week after she escaped. The kind of man you’re talking about has impulse-control issues. He’s going to want his revenge right away. He’s not going to wait and coolly plan it.”
Bill nodded his agreement. “And in the shelter? Those women come from volatile situations. Violent situations. The shelter offers them protection. Surely you’ve made some enemies?”