Chapter 39
Saturday night, still in the storage closet
F inally, the scene in the storage room was wrapping up. Valentina had come back from the kitchen with a pair of poultry shears to slice through the zip ties while Gabby restrained Fran, who was still unconscious. The Mafia dons and Kramer were demanding lawyers but, overall, not saying much. These were the kinds of guys who knew not to blab to the authorities.
“Val, where the hell have you been all night?” Alice didn’t quite shout but almost. “Were you getting a manicure?”
“Calm down or I won’t cut you free,” Valentina said.
Before Gabby cleared anything else up, she had a bigger problem to solve. For the entire party, she’d managed to focus on what needed to be done, and now all she could think of was that asshole parked at the end of her driveway. How she’d managed to carry the crushing fear and keep going was beyond her. Finally, she could set it down, or at least hot potato it to someone else for the last leg of the journey.
She knelt next to Markus while cutting him free. “I still have a problem.”
“What is it?” He didn’t look mad at her, only concerned.
As calmly as she could manage, Gabby explained, “There’s still a car of Smirnov’s men at the end of my driveway.” She paused to get control of her breathing so she could talk. “They’re going to kill my family if Smirnov doesn’t call them off.”
Valentina, who had overheard, looked at Smirnov. “Is that true?”
He shrugged but didn’t say a word, clearly not wanting to incriminate himself any further.
Gabby wanted to punch his smug face. Instead, she refocused on Markus, and then Alice, talking to both of them now.
“There’s been a guy, sometimes two, in a gray sedan at the end of the driveway for a couple of days. Can you send someone to make an arrest?”
“Are they out there right now?”
Gabby nodded. “I’m sure of it.”
The railroad tracks between Valentina’s eyebrows deepened as she made a phone call to HQ. “This is Agent 442 Monroe. I’m currently at Velvet’s Drag Bar on Hollywood Boulevard. I need a team of agents at 113 Avocado Ave. stat. There is at least one known hit man in a gray sedan parked outside the house with a contract on people in the home, some of whom are children.”
When Valentina hung up, she announced, “Agents on their way.”
For the first time that week, Gabby took a breath and felt the air fill all of her lungs. She hadn’t even realized how tight she’d been before, how she’d been panic-breathing for over a week.
Gabby looked at Smirnov and narrowed her eyes. She’d been willing to fight Fran, but she hadn’t wanted to. Every cell in her body wanted to reach out and smack the shit out of Smirnov. “Kids and an old lady—what is the matter with you?!”
Markus reached out and placed his hand on her back. “We’re going to get them, Gabby. And Smirnov is going to jail.”
Smirnov leaned back and said, “You two are cute. A little office romance, huh?”
Markus didn’t move his hand. Gabby realized that he wasn’t going to be scared away by some asshole. He wasn’t going to leave.
“Mischa, the young man who is probably parked outside—” She shook her head. “He just seemed troubled.” It was hard to see young people making choices like that. Yesterday, she would have thought that more committed parenting would help, but Fran had almost killed her fifteen minutes ago for school tuition. There were a couple of hard truths: 1) no one lies to you more than yourself, and 2) there are an infinite number of paths to joining the Russian Mafia. Hell, she had briefly been a member.
“Mischa can probably get a lesser sentence after he turns on Smirnov,” Valentina said. “We’ve been working on Smirnov for a while.”
Markus wasn’t so easily placated. “I can’t believe you didn’t say anything to me. I could have helped. That’s my entire job.”
“I couldn’t. He threatened my kids, my grandma, even my ex.” While they were talking, a couple of other agents came in to arrest Kramer, Fran, Orlov, and Smirnov.
Valentina interjected. “You did fine, Gabby. We have two Russian mob bosses in custody, not to mention Kramer. This is worth celebrating.”
A moment later, Valentina took another call. She looked perplexed, but in an official voice, she announced, “Gabby, your family is safe, and Smirnov’s men are in custody.” It sounded like she was holding something back.
“Did something else happen?”
“When they arrived, they found two men passed out in a car at the end of your driveway with a half-eaten plate of food between them. They appear to have been drugged.” She shook her head. “Our agents say it looks like Rohypnol.”
Granny. Gabby couldn’t hold the smile in. Granny wasn’t feeding them home-cooked meals from the motherland; she was drugging them. Gabby rubbed the necklace Granny had given her to remind her where she came from, and pride swelled in her chest. How had she forgotten what a badass her grandmother was?
Valentina still looked troubled.
“Is there more?”
“Yes.” Valentina shook her head. “It sounds like they had to take in one of your neighbors along with Smirnov’s men for getting in the way of the arrest.”
“Shelly?”
“I can’t say,” Valentina answered.
But of course, it was Shelly. How did Shelly manage to get in the way of everything? Really, that’s why she didn’t suspect Fran of more than being nosy. There were so many Frans and Shellys. Every neighborhood, every workplace, every family had one—getting in the way, messing everything up, micromanaging.
“Apparently, she was mad at the agents for not responding sooner.” Valentina looked confused. “She claims to have been calling the cops all week complaining about their illegal parking to no effect.”
Gabby nodded. That lined up with all of the posts on the LISTSERV.
“Long story short, during the altercation, one of Smirnov’s guys came to and accused her of harassment, which was apparently reasonable. They had grounds for a restraining order, according to the cops.”
Gabby laughed. “Ohmygod.”
“Anyway, she didn’t take that very well. They tried their best to work around her and send her back into her house, but she wouldn’t listen, kept getting more agitated. They didn’t want to deal with her, so they let her cool off in handcuffs.”
“Any chance she’ll stay in jail for a while?” Gabby could use the vacation.
“No, but it sounds like the action at your house was as wild as here.”
In the corner, one of the agents started reading Smirnov his Miranda rights in a booming voice. “You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you…”
As the agent perp walked Smirnov past her, Gabby stared him down. Before she second-guessed herself, she slapped him across the face as hard as she could. That fucker had threatened her babies.
Valentina laughed. “Get him, Gabs.”
Gabby sighed. The violence wasn’t even satisfying. It had been worth a try, though. Really, she didn’t care about him as long as he was gone. “What’s going to happen to them?” Gabby asked.
“They’ll be arrested and booked under various RICO violations.”
There was a flurry of activity outside the door, and someone called, “Help!” frantically. “Someone help me! Camille, where are you? Camille!”
All of the agents straightened up. Several hands hovered over sidearms, braced for the worst.
Valentina spoke into her comm. “This is Agent 442. There is a man calling for help and proceeding toward the back room. Anyone in the front, please head toward the kitchen to provide backup.”
Betty Danger burst into the room, sequins flashing in the EOD flashlights and her blond wig filling the entire doorway. “People, we have an emergency!” she yelled, ignoring the agent response. Once in the room, she stopped what she was doing and took in the scene, which included three guys in handcuffs, the signs of a fight, and Gabby’s black eye.
Valentina approached Betty with her weapon drawn. “Ma’am, what is the nature of the emergency?”
“We’re out of champagne,” Betty announced.
Valentina’s expression said, “This bitch,” as loud as words. Into her earpiece she said, “This is Agent 442 again. Stand down. There is no emergency.”
Gabby threw her arms around Betty Danger. “I’ll help.”
Betty glanced at Gabby’s battered form. “What in the hell happened to you?”
“It’s worse than it looks.” And so much better than it could have been. A little stiffer than usual, she walked out of the room arm-in-arm with her best friend.
Alice stopped her before she got too far. With a quick nod of approval, she said, “Good job tonight, Agent Greene.”
“Thank you, Agent Strong.”
Alice shook her head. “If only we’d gotten those codes.” She grumbled and added, “I must have been groggy from the drugs. Normally my memory is perfect.”
“Oh, we have the codes. I handed Fran my son’s spy pen. The message will reappear tomorrow. I didn’t read the directions, but I think it has something to do with sunlight.”
“Excellent!” Alice exclaimed. “Even better work.”