23. Now what?
Chapter 23
Now what?
TOMER
M y eyes fly from left to right three times, re-reading the email I finished typing seconds ago.
The butterfly has emerged from the cocoon. Now what?
I look over my shoulder to where Mia and Klein linger. “Is this really what we want to say?”
They trade glances, then Klein nods emphatically. “Do it, T.”
After hovering the mouse over the send button for two more seconds, I click it and hope to hell this isn’t a mistake.
Our strategy is hope now. That’s the current state of the mission where Viktor fucking Lenkov is concerned.
Day after day of trying to find dirt on him that will hold up in court has yielded no fucking fruit.
I have no idea how he’s done it, but he’s managed to keep his fingerprints clear of anything related to the trafficking ring. And from what we know, he has practically nothing to do with the other arms of Lenkov’s Bratva.
On paper, he’s clean as a whistle.
The mafia’s money moves around so efficiently it’s been nearly impossible for us to track thus far. Even with Mia and Klein helping me dig, I keep coming up empty. Well, in between the other mountains of shit we’re working on.
I spoke with a rep from the FBI trafficking task force this morning. After another day of finagling deals with the perps we’ve captured, none of them are willing to hang Viktor out to dry.
Not one will give him up.
Whatever that cocksucker is doing creates loyalty. Don’t mistake my meaning, though. He hasn’t earned those commitments based on his honorable leadership skills and interpersonal relationships.
It’s blackmail.
Some of the things Yev shared come to mind. Especially about how Katia and Viktor force their people into situations where photos and videos are taken. Little insurance policies.
I don’t feel bad for any of those fuckers. If they were willing to get in bed with the mafia, they deserve whatever they have coming to them. Especially the part of the bratva hurting innocent women like my Lettie.
As for Viktor, I’m starting to fear he’ll escape consequences. Unless I step outside the law and take care of him myself.
Aside from Lettie’s testimony, we have nada to turn over to the feds, Unfortunately, her word on the matter is tainted since she didn’t include him in her original statement. Still need to figure out what the fuck to do about that.
Mia and Klein must grow tired of waiting for an email reply, so they take their seats and get back to work.
Retrieving my cell, I contemplate texting Detective Salgado to see if she’d be willing to have an off-the-record chat. If Lettie comes forward to discuss Viktor’s involvement, I need reassurance they won’t turn the tables on her.
Then again, is that something I can ask of Lettie? Now, of all times? She’s fucking pregnant and already recovering from a horrible nightmare. The last thing she needs is to think this whole fucking case rests on her shoulders. Not to mention how I’d hate to put all my faith in the cops, trusting them to protect her. Imagine if she ended up under their scrutiny. Or worse—charged with obstruction of justice.
No . I won’t risk her.
Without another thought on the matter, I slip my phone back into my pocket.
We’ll find a way to take Viktor down without involving Lettie. She’s been through enough.
Now, we wait for someone to reply to the cryptic as fuck message we just sent.
Mia and I burned ourselves out yesterday and this morning, trying to figure out anything we could about this random email address. Ended up with nothing, exactly as we predicted. It’s essentially a burner account. If someone replies, we’ll see what else we can find about the sender’s location. If anything.
The reply will likely be sent through a VPN or something we can’t trace unless Mia has some magic up her sleeves.
Speaking of, I level her with a sidelong glance. “What did you say you were working on yesterday afternoon? In your office?”
Her cheeks lose some of their rosy shine. “Um. Huh?”
My brows pull in tight as I search her features. “Yesterday afternoon. I don’t recall what you said you were working on when you went into your office. Around 16:00.”
Mia’s lips part, and her eyes bounce toward Klein, who has stopped typing. His body tenses, and his hands freeze over the keyboard. My vision catches on a bob in his neck.
Shifting backward, I press my spine harder into the lumbar support of my chair. “ Dammit. What is it? No hiding shit about this case.”
Neither of them will meet my eyes, which lodges a metric fuck ton of dread into my gut.
Klein reaches for Mia’s arm and gives it a soft pulse. “Let’s tell him.”
Her eyes widen, sharpening to barbs as she flings an accusatory glare at him. “Klein, I was hoping you’d help me come up with something to distract him, not fucking give me no way out. Your conscience is too damn pure at times.” After filling her lungs, she sticks her tongue out at him and finally meets my stare. “As you have surmised, we have something to tell you.”
Despite being tempted to demand she spit it the fuck out already, I manage to keep my cool and wait for her to start talking.
“Tomer, I researched an email Redleg received yesterday. We believe it was from Viktor.”
I try to swallow around a rock trapped halfway down my throat. Unable to force it, I cough and press my fist against my sternum. “Is it safe to assume this communication wasn’t sent to our general inquiries email account?” I raise my brows, pausing to give her a chance to answer.
Her gaze drops to her lap, and she worries her lower lip before finally admitting, “Yeah.”
With her confirmation, everything unfolds in front of me like a brochure that’s been pressed flat on my desk, all creases removed. “Lettie got the email. It’s what triggered her.”
There’s no question, but she nods in agreement anyhow.
My pulse distracts me, pounding furiously in the side of my neck. Without thought or reasoning, I fling my hand on it, cupping it as if I could slow the frantic pace.
Klein shifts, his chair squeaking and diverting my attention toward him. He holds my eye contact warmly. “Tomer, we didn’t hide this from you for any reason other than compassion. And we knew we couldn’t conceal it indefinitely. Mia needed a little time to see what she could find out about it.”
I find myself nodding along, but my vision fades in and out briefly as I process what I’m hearing.
My instincts tell me to run to Lettie’s side. As if I need to soothe her worries and love her through whatever memories the email stirred up.
But I did that yesterday. Only I had no idea what I was comforting her for at the time. All I knew was that she needed me. For as long as I live, I’ll be there when she needs me.
I take some comfort in realizing I helped her through it despite not knowing what caused her episode.
Finally, I’m able to address my partners. “I understand and appreciate you trying to protect me. Above all else, I’m grateful you were there for Lettie.”
I’m not placating them. At this moment, I do appreciate them looking out for me. It’s good to know they have my back. Like a team.
Or a family.
To ensure they believe I’m not full of shit, I double down on my gratitude. “I mean it. Thank you for looking out for me. I don’t take that lightly.”
“We’ll always look out for you, T,” Klein offers. “I’m sorry if you ever doubted that.”
My sinuses ache with the sting of swelling emotions. I clear my throat and blink them away. “So I assume the email contained something upsetting. Correct?”
“Yes. It did,” Mia answers solemnly. “It’s also helpful to our case, assuming I can prove Viktor was the sender.”
Returning my focus to the mission, I let the angst from this discovery fade away. “I promise not to fly off the handle. You can tell me about it and what you’ve found so far. If whatever he sent upset my girl, let’s at least make it come back to bite him in the ass. I want to make him fucking pay.”
One side of Mia’s face quirks into a partial smirk. “There you go, T. Such a badass.”
After a click of her tongue, she tells me about the email. Everything from how he spoofed Lettie’s email address to make it look as if it came from her, right down to the included screenshot of the text message from whoever carried out the hit on Yev in jail—may he rest in Hell. Mia’s more careful when she mentions the gift Viktor sent by including the photos of Lettie from inside the house.
Bile rises in my throat.
When she’s finished, I carefully craft my response. As much as the rage burns inside me, churning up disgust and hatred for that monster and what he did to Lettie, I aim to keep as steady as possible. I need to focus on the mission. Think rationally.
“So Viktor manipulated me, sending me after Yev. That’s a nice treat.” I flap my lips with a haggard and forceful exhale, irritation replacing some of my blood lust. “Oh well. Don’t care. Yev gave us intel, I got to exact some revenge on him for violating Lettie, and he ended up exactly where he deserved to be. Dead. Not seeing a downside.”
Hmm . Despite my initial sarcasm, I feel lighter. Turns out, I agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment. And why wouldn’t I? It’s true.
Fuck Yev.
And fuck Viktor for thinking I’d regret sending Yev to jail or the grave.
“There’s one thing that’s been bothering me since I found out about this email,” Klein murmurs deep and thoughtful.
“What?” I ask.
Klein taps his fingertips rhythmically on his chair armrests. “If you were Viktor Lenkov, would you be so fucking stupid to send your enemy photographic proof of not only an assault but of ordering a hit on a prison inmate that resulted in murder?”
Mia offers a slight wobble of her head.“Especially when said enemy has tech capabilities like we do.”
Keeping the thought going, I pile on. “And has a deeply personal interest in ensuring you hang for your crimes.”
“How do you rationalize that kind of stupidity?” Klein muses. “I can’t make sense of it. Not any more sense than what’s on that fucking easel with all the Greek mythology bullshit.”
His frustration matches mine.
“Mia, did you find anything to tie the email to Viktor?”
“The photos provided make it very difficult to identify the perp. He was careful to send only certain shots.” She swallows audibly. “I’m making progress on uncovering the real email address. I need a bit more time. However?—”
I finish her sentence. “It won’t tell us much. Probably another generic account, from which he routes emails through a relay service or VPN. We won’t find anything.”
“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.” She twists a few locks of hair near her ear. “Maybe he didn’t send it. Someone else did. But they wanted it to look like it came from Viktor so it could be used as proof.”
Klein and I both sit up straighter, mirror images of each other. Our eyes lock.
He speaks first. “This makes sense. But who could have sent it to us?”
I jump in. “Someone who knows what’s happening in the trafficking ring. Someone working from the inside to take Lenkov down. Or someone who has influence inside while working from the outside.”
Mia bounces in her seat, excitement coloring her features. “Yuri or someone in the family Yev was talking about. The one he said Katia wasn’t doing enough to help.” She glances toward the ceiling, rambling on. “That would includeSavin, Katia, Yev, and Yuri. Could there be anyone else?”
“Tasha,” I offer half-heartedly.
“Savin’s girlfriend who was in the house with Lettie?” Klein asks.
“It’s possible,” Mia answers.
“One of you get Shep on the phone.” I stand abruptly and hurry to the easel beside the whiteboard. “Send him to see Yuri. We have new questions for that SOB.”
I study the cast of characters listed on the crisp white paper. We added two new ones this morning.
Sofia Ivanovich—Yev’s mother. Klein discovered she worked as a maid for the Lenkovs for over a decade. We didn’t know this sooner because she’s been away from them for fifteen years. She’s not even in the country, having returned to Russia five years ago.
Alexei Bugrov—the owner of the house where Yev was hiding out. We know nothing about him. The deli he allegedly owns is an empty building. No birth certificate. Fake social security number. No social media presence. Not a single online hit that we can trace back to him, except for a phony website for his restaurant.
He’s a ghost.
Behind me, Klein says, “Shep, we need you to go see Yuri again.”
“Put him on speaker,” I say as I turn around and face the phone.
Klein complies, and Shep’s profanity-laced response fills the lair.
“Listen, Shep,” I start, trying to unruffle his feathers.“We’re still on the Icarus shit. Yuri’s clearly Daedalus. More and more, it looks like he might be Yev’s father. I want you to ask him directly.”
“Copy. Anything else?”
“Ask him why the hell he doesn’t turn over the fucking information to us or the cops since he wants Lenkov stopped. And we know he does, thanks to his fascinating Greek story. If he’d just give us the intel he has on Lenkov, we’ll protect him. Get him another deal.”
Shep interjects, “Why would he take a deal now when he wasn’t forthcoming last time? I don’t see why asking him more directly is going to change his tune.”
Mia jumps in. “I hear you, bud. But try anyhow.”
“Oh, I’ll go see him, ghost. I’m only trying to lower your expectations. I doubt we’ll get much more out of him.”
I brace myself with my arms on the desk, one hand on each side of the phone. “Here’s why it’s different this time, Shep. If Yev is his son, Yuri will want payback for his murder. Tell him we know Viktor ordered the hit because we have an email confirming it. Now listen up; this part is important. When you talk about the email proof, watch and listen carefully to his reaction. There’s a chance he sent us the email. If you suspect he did, bring his ass in here. I don’t care how you do it. I’ll make him talk once he’s here.”
Shep’s sigh crackles the phone line. “Fine. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“One more thing,” I tell him.
“Yeah?”
“Ask him who the fuck Alexei Bugrov is and why the hell he gave Yev a car to drive to the store and a house to hideout in.”
“You didn’t find out who he is yet?” he asks, the disbelief evident in his tone.
“Nope. He’s no one. Barely anything on paper about his whole existence.”
“Damn,” he replies, volume low.
I feel the same way. I’ve created fake identities before. It’s frustrating as hell to see one from the other side of the coin.
Wait a second.
“Shep, one last thing. Depending on how he answers that last question...” I look around the room, my eyes finding Mia and Klein. “Ask him if he is Alexei Bugrov.”