Denouement (10 page)

I searched the number for the Miami Dade PD and dialed.

A woman answered within a couple rings. “Miami Dade Police, how can I direct your call?”

“Lieutenant Kane from the Tampa Police Department. I’m looking for a Lieutenant Harrington.”

“One moment. I’ll transfer you to his office.”

Hold music played in my ear. It was cut short by the phone ringing once again.

“Harrington,” he answered.

“Hey, this is Lieutenant Carl Kane from Tampa Homicide. We spoke a few months back regarding Viktor Azarov. You sent me up a file.”

“Yeah, yeah. Lieutenant Kane. I got word a few weeks back that Viktor was killed in prison. It’s just so unfortunate.” His voice rang with sarcasm. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, were trying to locate his brother, and—”

“Brother? Andrei Azarov? I thought he was dead.”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Okay, you have my attention.”

“We’re digging into his associates. We have some phone records that we’re going over, and we keep getting a hit for a number belonging to a woman who apparently owns a time-and-weather deal down there. She’s got a website that lists, well, the time and weather and a phone number that gives you the same thing. We have these Azarov associates all calling this number fairly regularly.”

“Interesting,” Harrington said. “What’s the woman’s name?”

“Iris Sanchez.”

“Did you say Iris Sanchez?” he asked.

“Yeah, do you know that name?”

“Do you have an address?”

I gave it to him.

He was quiet for a moment.

“Still there?” I asked.

“Iris Sanchez, at that address, is the girlfriend of one of our sergeants.”

“What’s his name?” I asked.

“Ivan Blok.”

“That name sounds Russian,” I said.

“He is. Let me have a quick chat with my captain here and see what he says. I’ll give you a ring back in a few minutes. Do you have a number for me?”

I gave him the direct number to my desk.

“It should be a half hour or so,” Harrington said.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I appreciate it.”

I clicked off and plugged the guy’s name into my computer the way I imagined it to be spelled.

Hank walked back in my office, holding two cups of coffee. He slid one toward me and took a seat across from me at my desk. “Did you get him on the phone?” Hank asked.

“I did.”

“And?”

“The woman is the girlfriend of one of their sergeants at the Miami PD, an Ivan Blok. He just so happens to be Russian.”

“What? Really?”

I nodded. “Harrington is going to call me back after he asks his captain what they want to do.”

“Dirty cop?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know. That seems to be going around though,” I said.

Ray stared out the window of a high-rise condo in downtown Tampa. His mind raced with thoughts. The heat from the feds and local police would soon be too much to handle. They knew he was alive and would be putting forth a full effort to find him. He walked to the bar, grabbed his cell phone, and dialed.

“Yeah,” a man answered.

“Do we have any more potential buyers for the contacts overseas?” Ray asked.

“No. Where are you? What number is this?”

“It’s a new burner phone. I’m at Sokoloff’s condo,” Ray said.

“Get out of there. Take whatever you need and leave.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?”

“My captain just spent the last twenty minutes questioning me about Iris and the time and weather. They know something. There’s people looking into everything. I’m out of here.”

“What can they get from that? Just have her get rid of everything.”

“They can damn sure get the incoming calls. Aside from that, if they start looking into me, they’ll dig into my bank records and get that condo.”

“Shit,” Ray said. “What do you know about federal warrants for something having to do with us?”

“Federal warrants?” Blok asked.

“Yeah. It has to do with the money somehow,” Ray said.

“I don’t know. It could stem back to the charges they were bringing up on Viktor. They could have found the others he was working with. Either way, it’s time to leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“Airport and out of the country.”

“Shit,” Ray repeated. “Who can I call?”

Ivan didn’t respond. Ray could hear him talking to someone on the other end of the phone, maybe Iris.

“Who can I call?” Ray asked again.

“I don’t know. Just find a way to get yourself out of there and put as much distance as you can between you and Florida.”

“Yeah, I get it. So, who can I call to help? I need money. I need some kind of an ID in order to travel. Who did Yury use for documents?”

“There’s no one that’s going to help. There’s no money. It’s self-preservation time, Andrei. Get in a car and drive if you have to.”

“Self-preservation time?” Ray paced back and forth in front of the condo’s wall of windows. “We’ve supported your ass for years! Covered your debts, eliminated problems. You’d be dead if it wasn’t for us!”

“Ray. Listen. Get the hell out of there. I’m saying that to you as a friend.”

Ray let out a puff of air into the phone’s mouthpiece. “Okay, friend. I’ll be sure to make a mental note of how much you helped out when I catch up with you.”

“Whatever. Do what you want. Sit there and get taken into custody or come after me. I don’t care. And if we’re being honest about the situation here, your brother was the one who helped me out with the debts, and I’ve been sending you money since he left us. I gave you a thousand here and a thousand there. I’ve been sending off a check to pay for the lease on Sokoloff’s condo so you can stay there. I can’t do it anymore. Hell, I even paid for your doctors when that cop shot you all to hell. Don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve done enough for you, Ray. It’s time to go.”

“Shit!” Ray clicked off from the phone call and tossed the phone back up on the bar. “Piece of shit cop.”

He went to the back of the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. After drinking it down in a single gulp, he filled the glass again. He ran through the short list of people he could call that could at least provide him shelter. He dialed three numbers, but two were disconnected. He received a generic robotic voice mail on the third. Ray dialed a fourth, Yakov Mishutin.

He answered on the ninth or tenth ring. “Hello.”

“Yakov?” Ray asked.

“Speaking.”

“It’s Ray.”

“Ray who?” Yakov asked.

“It’s Andrei. You know who this is. Stop screwing around. This is serious. I need a favor.”

“Um, I think you have the wrong number. I don’t know anyone by that name.” Yakov hung up.

“Son of a bitch!” Ray said. He clicked End.

He ran his hand over the side of his head, his fingertips floating over bruises and cuts from his encounter with the FBI agent, Faust. The feeling of pain from his hand brushing against his injuries only angered him further. Ray dialed the last person who could help, Mark Popov. The phone rang in Ray’s ear.

“Hello,” Mark answered.

“It’s Ray. I’m in a jam. I need to be put up for a few days while I figure a few things out.”

“I’m heading out of town,” he said.

“Can I stay at the house until you get back?”

“My family is there, and I’m not coming back. I spoke with Ivan. Everyone has spoken with Ivan.”

“So that’s why Yakov is trying to act like he doesn’t know who I am?”

“I couldn’t say.”

Ray cursed under his breath.

“I’m getting out of here, Andrei. Before I can’t. You should be leaving too.”

Ray let out a breath in frustration. “Do you think you can wire me some money before you head out? Just a couple grand to help me move around.”

“I never got paid back the
just a couple of grand
I gave you last time.”

“Look, I understand, but you’ll get back whatever money you give me. You know I’m good for it. I’ll just send it to your family if it’s easier.”

“Sorry, Andrei. I can’t help. You’re on your own.” Popov hung up.

Ray squeezed the phone in his hand until his knuckles were white.

He couldn’t get out of the country by traditional methods without a doctored passport and identification. He didn’t have enough money to buy either, even if he had the name of a person who could make them. He didn’t have the funds to leave by boat. He doubted the car he was driving would even make it out of state. Ray needed double the money he had at the minimum. A thought flickered in his head. He once again picked up his phone and dialed. A recording played in Ray’s ear. He pressed the one key to be transferred.

“Chicagoland Firearm and Supply.”

“Erik, it’s Ray. Are you still in Atlanta?”

“I’m just packing up and getting ready to head back up to Chicago. What’s up?”

Ray leaned against the bar. “How did the show go?”

“I sold a handful. I’d say it was about average.”

“Are you taking inventory back? Inventory in the under-the-table variety?”

“Some.”

“Do you want to head south and unload it?”

“Well, that depends. To who?”

“Me,” Ray said.

“You?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I thought… I just heard that you were having, um, some financial roadblocks.” Erik’s voice sounded hesitant.

“I’ll buy two grand of whatever you got.”

“Two grand?”

Ray tapped his fingertips across the granite top of the bar. “Yeah.”

“Two grand isn’t going to get you very far.”

“Look, I’ll take whatever you can give me that hits that dollar amount,” Ray said.

“Um. I don’t know, Andrei. Two thousand dollars isn’t really enough to make it worth my while. Five, and we may be able to come up with something. Ten would be better.”

Ray scratched the side of his head and looked down at his watch, the Rolex he’d acquired on his very first job. A pawn shop would at least give him a few thousand dollars for it. He shook his head in disappointment. “I can do five.”

“And you have the cash on hand?”

“Yeah, I have it right here.”

“Okay. I’ll finish getting loaded up and head down. Where am I meeting you?”

“It will be somewhere around the Tampa area. I’ll call you with an exact location. When will you be here?”

“Maybe five o’clock or so,” Erik said.

“Sure. What’s the cell phone number you’re using?”

Erik gave it to him, and Ray jotted it down.

“Good. I’ll call you this afternoon with the spot.” Ray clicked off.

He took a sip of his whiskey, swirled the ice cubes at the bottom of the glass, and finished the drink. The five thousand he would have to spend on guns could be doubled by selling them on the street. That would take only a week, a smart decision. Ten thousand would be enough to get him out of the country. Another thought crept into Ray’s head. He could just kill Erik and take whatever guns he had. Plus, he’d have a different vehicle to move around in. Ray poured himself another drink and contemplated the decision.

My desk phone didn’t make a full ring before I pulled it from the receiver. “Lieutenant Kane,” I said.

“Hey, Kane, it’s Terry downstairs.”

“Yeah, Terry. Did you get anything?”

“They gave me a bit of a runaround, so I had to throw the words
subpoena
and
warrant
out there. After that, they gave me her information. Iris Sanchez on Collins Avenue in Miami Beach.”

“Apartment number?” I asked.

“Hold on. I have it right here. Um, apartment three thirty-nine.”

“Okay. Yeah, that’s the same address as on her sheet. It was worth a shot. I appreciate the effort.”

“Yup. No problem, Kane.”

I hung the phone back on the receiver.

“Nothing new on the website stuff?” Hank asked.

“Nope. It’s the same apartment address.”

Hank tried covering a yawn with his hand. “When did Harrington say he was calling back?” he asked.

“He said a half hour.”

“It’s been a half hour. Did you hear anything from Faust lately?”

I shook my head. “Nothing today, in fact. I was going to give him a call in a little bit and see what, if anything, was going on.”

“What are we doing in the meantime?”

I held my palms up. “Waiting.”

Hank yawned again and stretched. “I didn’t sleep worth a crap last night.”

I pointed down at my desk. “Well, you saw how I slept.”

“Yeah, but I probably would have still traded you.”

“Did you have some more late-night dog adventures?” I asked.

“No. Porkchop was fine, surprisingly. This time it was Karen. She was just a complete emotional mess. I think it’s the hormones she’s been taking. She cried for a solid three hours over a recipe for potato salad. She went on and on that it looked so much better than hers, how it probably tasted so much better, that friends and family have been lying to her for years that hers was good. She just wouldn’t drop it. Tears and sniffles and tissues. So when I finally jammed my head under the pillow, during the tail end of the third hour, in search of silence, she tells me that I don’t love her enough to listen. That started a whole additional cry fest.”

I nodded my head. “Sounds like a good time,” I said. “Sorry I didn’t come over to enjoy some of that.”

Hank cocked his head to the side. “Oh yeah, the best time I’ve ever had. Karen finally cried herself to sleep around three a.m., but sure as hell if she didn’t start right back up with it this morning. Why do you think I was early? I had to get out of there.”

“Did you at least get a cup of her organic coffee for the road?”

“I accidentally forgot it on one of the shelves in the garage while I was getting into the car.”

“You better hope she doesn’t find it. If she finds out you don’t like her coffee—”

My desk phone rang, interrupting our banter. I reached over and scooped it up. “Lieutenant Kane.”

“Hey, it’s Harrington.”

“What did you guys come up with?”

“I can’t be a hundred-percent certain, but I think our sergeant is trying to run,” he said.

“What? Run?” I asked.

“Yeah, we can’t find him in the station anywhere, and his car is still here. He doesn’t answer his phone. He must have taken off after our captain asked him about Iris and the time-and-weather thing.”