For Everything a Reason (21 page)

Chapter
Forty

Edward Jones continued his tale, his small audience
enthralled by his unbelievable revelations. He explained his involvement in
laundering vast sums of money for the Russian kingpin, Viktor Mikhel; money
that had been filtered through various associations, like the Afghan War
Veterans’ Association. He explained how, after working for just two years with
an accountancy firm based in the Brighton Beach District, he’d been given the
task of head bookkeeper. He also took a while to explain how he had helped
build the Solntsevskaya Empire by manipulating local economies and then
investing heavily in macro hedge funds. He then went into great detail about
how he and Viktor had made a small fortune, taken from the Colombians, by
laundering money through various charitable trusts, without Sergei Mikhailov
knowing.

Understanding came to Carter.
“So that’s why they got to your father, in an attempt to silence you.”

Edward nodded. “Yeah. Cowards
couldn’t get to me – so they went for an ailing old man who couldn’t defend
himself.”

Tyler shook her head.
“Everything makes sense now. Why the killer took the tong…” She cut her
sentence short, aware of Edward Jones’ involvement.

The accountant reached out to
pat her shoulder. “It’s okay – I’ve been informed about what happened. Go on.”

She didn’t need to finish her
sentence, as most understood what she’d been about to say.

Joseph said, “So it was a
direct threat to you – a symbol to force your silence?”

“Yes,” Edward agreed.

Joseph frowned. “But he said
something about his secret – his… insurance?”

“Not his – mine,” Edward
corrected.

“Explain,” Carter said.

Edward Jones pulled a chair
towards the desk to seat himself, now including himself into this gathering of
desperate people. He gave them a sympathetic look that contained an element of
both shame and remorse.

“I’ve turned a blind eye to
things I knew to be wrong. Money is a very powerful motivator. And money’s
something I’m good with.”

“Go on,” Carter pushed, eager
to understand everything.

“Viktor Mikhel is also very
good at what he does – a master. But he has his weakness. Greed. Not for money,
but for power, respect, fear. Still, money plays a factor in all that. Viktor’s
ready to start spending his personal fortune – all at the expense of his boss.
Word has it Viktor’s been planning a return trip home – one way – and is ready
to take over as head of the Solntsevskaya Mafia.”

“The Solntsevwhat?” Carter
asked.

“The Solntsevskaya Mafia – the
biggest firm in Moscow.”

“Explain everything,” Carter
urged.

“Okay – Viktor now knows I’m
alive, and that both the FBI and FSB are coming after him. I’m just one cog in
a whole bigger machine; I didn’t think he’d come after me with such ferocity.
Not considering what I know about his secret stash. Sergei Mikhailov would have
him dead and buried before sunrise if he knew.”

Carter said, “So he needs to
shut you up – before this goes to trial, and his little secret becomes known.
Because if it did, his chances back home would be greatly jeopardised.”

“Exactly,” Edward agreed. “He’d
be dead before stepping onto the first plane.”

Joseph asked, “Can’t they just
arrest him now? Keep him in prison?”

Edward shook his head. “Things
take time. Viktor’s connections are too great to let them get away, so they
can’t risk a botched or unprepared investigation. The authorities won’t move on
him until they’re sure they have Sergei for sure.”

Tyler leaned forward, closer to
Edward. “I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Viktor Mikhel just leave the country
now, before he’s arrested?

“Good point,” Edward said.
“Thing is, he has unfinished business here to attend to first.”

“Such as?” Tyler asked.

“Such as – me. He needs our
little secret to disappear.”

“Hang on a minute,” Joseph
interjected. “Then why did your father refer to it as his secret, his
insurance?” 

The accountant appeared
confused for a moment. “We’d spoken, that day, on the phone. Wasn’t safe enough
for me to visit – so they…” he gestured over his shoulder, “…they set up a line
for me to speak to him. A… safe line, untraceable, which was cut the moment the
conversation ended.”

“Wait a minute,” Joseph said.
“Now I understand. Your father was repeating what you’d said to him – wasn’t
he?” 

“Must have been,” Edward
agreed.

“Okay,” Carter said. “So why
did they kill your father?”

Edward’s face collapsed into
despair, he answered evasively, “He was dying anyway – I guess I can take some
comfort in that.”

“Edward, we have to know
exactly what’s going on here,” Carter said, needing the accountant to explain
all – and quickly. If he was going to get Jake back, then he must understand
precisely what he was up against.

Edward’s words had been guarded
throughout the encounter, which Carter had thought to be in respect of the
present situation. It was only when the accountant lowered his tone to a barely
audible whisper that he realised he’d been masking his words from the trio of
agents who stood nearby.

“Viktor needs my guaranteed
silence,” Edward began. “What I know will put him away for a very long time. Or
better – permanently.”

Joseph still didn’t understand.
“But surely what he did to your father would strengthen your resolve even
more?”

Edward nodded. “Yes – true, but
I have my own weaknesses too.” He lowered his tone even more. “Do you think I
dare mention anything about our scam, to anyone? No, I’d end up as dead as
Viktor, and twice as fast. Sergei’s reach is infinitely more capable than
Viktor’s. If he found out I’d been stealing from him, he’d come over here and
put a bullet in my head – personally – and laugh while he did so.”

“Then why the dramatics?”
Carter asked. “Sorry, wrong choice of word. Why kill your father?”

Edward said, “To draw me out.
Gain my silence. Kill me.”

Carter ran a hand over his face,
the long day now washing great waves of tiredness over him. “But haven’t you
already told the authorities enough to put him away?”

“Yeah,” Edward agreed. “But
that wouldn’t stop him. He’s smart, never tarnished his hands with blood, and
always had other people to do his dirty work for him. He’d hire a team of the
best lawyers money could buy and then flee across the border to Mexico or Canada
while out on bail. Or buy the whole prison system if he got that far, and
simply disappear.”

“But he would require Sergei’s
help to do all that?” Carter asked.

“Indeed,” Edward said.

“Then where does that leave
you?” Carter quizzed.

“In a real jam. I’ve got myself
a double-edged sword. If I tell the authorities about our secret funds, then I
mark myself for death. Sergei would not allow such a thing to go unpunished.
But if I don’t say anything, then Viktor will see me dead. He too cannot allow
me to continue drawing breath, knowing what we’ve done.”

Carter shook his head. “Dammed
if you do, dammed if you don’t…”

“True…” Edward said.

Joseph spoke. “What about this
Yurius? Who the hell is this guy?”

For the faintest of moments,
Edward’s face seemed to change. It was so slight, so fleeting, that most didn’t
have sufficient time to consciously acknowledge the transformation. Only Joseph
spotted this shift in facial expressions, and even he wasn’t convinced it
hadn’t been more a trick of the eye then an actual response. In a single
heartbeat, Jones’s face flipped from humble victim to vicious predator and back
again. Then, with a simple shrug of his shoulders, he said, “Sorry – that is a
name that I do not know.”

Carter seemed to deflate then.
He breathed out between puffed cheeks.

“Can you help us in any way to
get my boy back?” Joseph asked.

“Not directly, no,” Edward replied,
his face taking on its usual look of sympathy.

Carter spoke. “Then what are
you doing here? Why risk detection by coming?”

“I need to get a message to
Viktor. Explain that our secret will remain just that, for as long as I stay
alive, and that any direct threat will see Sergei gaining knowledge.”

“But how will you do such a
thing?” Joseph asked.

Edward reached into his pocket.
He withdrew a crumpled envelope.

“What’s that?” Joseph asked.

“It’s a message – for Viktor.”
Edward handed it to Joseph, by sliding it flat along the surface of the table.

Joseph took it, and then
flipped it over, looking for an address or name. “Why are you giving this to
me?”

“Because, Joseph, you’ll be
seeing Viktor sooner than I will,” Edward stated.

“Look,” Joseph said, his voice
rising in pitch. “I’m sorry about your position, but I need to get my boy back.
I cannot get involved with your disputes.” He started to slide the letter back.

The agent standing nearest to
Jones tensed visibly. The other two quickly took up formation around the
grieving accountant. Joseph’s little act of aggression towards Jones was met by
equal hostility. An agent, square-shouldered, tall and handsome, almost snarled
in Joseph’s direction when he said, “Keep it.”

Joseph’s hand stopped
half-outstretched. He eyed the agent, noticing a slight scar above his top lip.
“Keep it,” the agent repeated in a growl. The agent’s words were laced with
Eastern European undertones.

Joseph’s temper started to boil
to the surface. “Who the hell are you people? Go and find my son.”

“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “You
know where Viktor is. There’s a chance Yurius could have taken Jake there.”

“Let’s go,” Joseph said,
climbing to unsteady feet.

Now, all three agents seemed to
swell around the small group. And for just a second, Carter thought they were
about to reach towards their sidearms.

“No, we stay,” Edward Jones
said. The short sentence had been full of calm but weighed down by a directness
that demanded obedience.

The agents deflated slightly
then, realising they’d possibly stepped out of line. The one with the scar gave
Joseph a courteous nod before taking a few steps back.

“Sorry, Joseph,” Edward began.
“This investigation of ours reaches too far – too many organisations involved
with much to gain. Both FBI and FSB agents have been working tirelessly to
bring this case to a close. I apologise for FSB Agent Vitos’ abruptness. But
even Jake’s taking cannot be allowed to threaten the ultimate goal of taking
down Viktor Mikhel and Sergei Mikhailov’s empire.”

Edward then stood up quickly.
Joseph’s arm remained outstretched. “You need to keep that – it will help you
to put an end to this nightmare. Trust me.” Edward said.

Before Joseph could respond,
Edward turned and headed away from them. Like obedient dogs, the trio of agents
followed closely behind him.

“Wait!” Joseph called. “What is
this?”

Edward turned back. “Your
salvation – and mine,” he said, before disappearing out of the Department.

Chapter
Forty-One

Four walls, warm sheets and food of choice: three things
that Presley Perkins hadn’t taken pleasure in for as many months. The bucket of
fried chicken stood almost empty, and the corner of the bed sheet had thick
smears on one corner; Presley being unable or unwilling to make the short trip
to the bathroom to gather a hand-towel to wipe greasy fingers clean.

The TV in the corner of the
room flickered with bright faces and beat out an enthusiastic tattoo.
Baywatch
played into the room with its golden beach, blue waters and near-perfect cast.
Presley grunted subconsciously as one of the swimsuit-clad girls ran across the
expanse of even sand.

He dipped his hand back inside
the bucket to retrieve a chicken leg. Half a thigh disappeared in a single
bite. His hand returned to the bed sheet as he hastily wiped it clean. What the
hell, he thought, dismissing his lack of manners. He wouldn’t be here to clean
it up tomorrow.

Now, with his newfound wealth,
he lay relishing the luxury of a cheap motel room. He’d bought a set of new
clothes, simple sweatpants and top, and had invested in a small collection of
toiletries. His cheeks tingled, invigorated by the razor and gel that had
removed three months of grime.

Presley caught his reflection
in the small mirror that faced him. He gave himself a wink, pleased with his
current situation.

The credits started to roll on
the TV screen. Presley reached over to take the remote. He flicked between
channels for a few minutes, staying on each one just long enough for him to
decide if the programme warranted his attention or not. Eventually, he chanced
upon a spaghetti western.
The
Man With No Name
was currently
dusting down his poncho.

“Draw!” Presley ordered, firing
an imaginary bullet at Clint Eastwood’s head. Clint looked back at Presley with
unwavering blue eyes, unimpressed.

Presley laughed out loud. “The
Man with no Name,” he said, and then glanced over at the mirror for a second
time. He tipped his imaginary hat upwards, nodded, and said, “Howdy ladies –
you fancy a good time with a cowboy?”

This time tomorrow, he’d be
long gone – driven out of town, not by a posse of lawmen, but by the promise of
freedom. Mexico and all the Señoritas he could wish for would be waiting for
him, ready, willing and able.

He settled back, his belly full
and a greasy smile smeared across his lips.

Yes, tomorrow couldn’t come
fast enough for him – his day of independence.

Then, Presley Perkins would be
back on top.

Chapter
Forty-Two

The Homicide Department was a hive of activity. A dozen
or so detectives were sat with handsets clamped between shoulders and heads,
chatting eagerly, scribbling down information onto notepads, blank crime
reports, desktops if necessary, anything that they could get their hands on.
The first few hours of any investigation, were the most critical. Two of their
own had been killed, Gore and his replacement, and their friends in blue were
not about to sit idle.

The FBI agents were also
running task forces via sleek cell phones, or expensive laptops, or simple good
old-fashioned landlines. One blue-suited individual – who busied himself with
his open laptop – now occupied the technician’s chair. Two agents, FSB Agent
Vitos included, were chatting to each other in hushed tones over by one of the
office windows.

Marianna and Tyler were talking
quietly at the young detective’s desk, whilst Joseph and Carter sat facing each
other, red-eyed and beaten.

“I’ll understand if you want to
go home,” Joseph said.

Carter yawned, and Joseph
thought that was just what the detective had been waiting for – an easy get
out.  

“Like hell,” Carter announced.
“I’m seeing this through to the end.”

“This isn’t your fight – not
now. Only I can bring Jake home.”

“But at what cost?”

Joseph eyed Marianna. She was
busy in conversation with Tyler. He just shrugged. “This Yurius wants me –
dead.”

Carter nodded. “I believe he
does. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let that happen.”

“What can you do?” Joseph
asked. “What can
they
do?” he added, indicating the agents.

“They, Joseph, have their own
agenda. We’ll get Jake back.”

Joseph sighed deeply. “How?”

Carter scratched at his chin.
“There’s a way. There must be a way.”

“We both know they’re holding
Jake to get me. And I don’t think they’re looking for some sort of
reconciliation. Do you?”

“No, Joseph – I don’t.”

“Then what now?”

“Yurius will call. I guarantee
it. He’s desperate to silence you, before his identity can be compromised.”

“Too late.”

“I know. We know. But he
doesn’t. When he calls, don’t address him by name again. Act confused,
uncertain, and don’t for a second let on you know about his connection to
Viktor Mikhel.”

“And then what?”

“And then do as he says.”

“And?”

“I’m working on it,” Carter
said.

“Detective – this has gone
beyond ‘serve and protect’. Lives are on the line here. Not just mine and my
son’s – yours too if you stay involved.”

“I am involved. Believe me. I
ain’t about to let some two-bit punk harm an innocent boy.”

Joseph reached out and took the
detective’s hand. “Thanks.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

 “No, but most men wouldn’t put
it all on the line for a stranger – not even a boy.”

Carter looked away for a
moment. His face flipped between anger and agony.

“What is it?” Joseph asked,
seeing something more than just professional conduct was driving the detective.

Carter looked Joseph in the
eye. “I have a son – had a son.”

The pain in Carter’s eyes left
no question as to what that meant.

Joseph shook his head. “I’m
sorry.”

“Yeah…” Carter breathed.
“William, my boy, was shot and killed in action, recently.”

“Dear Lord,” Joseph said.

“A hold-up. He wasn’t even
responding to a call – just happened to chance on it, whilst the robbery was in
progress.”

“Good God…”

“Billy didn’t even get the
chance to draw his weapon.”

“I’m so sorry,” Joseph offered.
“I can’t imagine how you feel, not even with Jake taken.”

The detective wiped at his
eyes. “Losing a child is worse than anything imaginable, something that simply
does not go away –
ever.
Even on those rare occasions when something
else demands your attention, the pain comes back with a vengeance to remind you
of the loss.”

Joseph couldn’t find his voice.
What words could he offer anyway? There wasn’t a word in the English language
that conveyed enough sympathy or sorrow. However, the agony in his own heart,
for Jake’s safety, gave him all the understanding he needed.

Carter said: “So now you know
why I’ll be seeing this through to the end. I’m not about to let anything
happen to your son – not while I can do something about it.”

“Like what?” Joseph asked,
needing some form of reassurance – no matter how desperate.

“I don’t know yet, Joseph. But
I will, when the time comes.”

They made eye contact again,
and Joseph felt the detective’s determination wash over him. It gave him added
strength, and more importantly, made him realise that he wasn’t alone in this
nightmare.

***

It was almost midnight when the second call came through.
Tyler and one of the FBI agents were sleeping fitfully, twisted and bent into
uncomfortable positions, dozing in chairs, using hard desks as unlikely
pillows. Both jumped awake, their attention snapping back into focus.

Joseph and Carter were already
on their feet by the end of the second ring. Marianna joined them, her hand
seeking out Joseph’s. He took it and then reached for the handset. Already, the
agent seated there had activated the recording and tracking devices. The
agent’s hand gestured in slow circles, silently directing Joseph to keep the
caller talking.

“Yeah?” Joseph asked.

“Big bear?”

“Yes.”

“You know who I am?”

Carter had already slipped the
earphones on and was listening to the exchange. He shook his head vigorously. 

“You’re the guy who has my
son,” Joseph replied.

The caller stayed silent for a
moment.

“You know who I am?” the caller
asked again.

Joseph looked toward Carter for
help.

‘NO,’ he mouthed.

“I know you’re name is Yurius
and if I don’t get my son back, I’ll find out who you are and hunt you down and
kill you. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll find out who – what – you are,
and not rest until you are dead.”

Marianna’s mouth opened and her
body tensed noticeably. She almost reached up to snatch the handset from
Joseph, but Tyler intervened at the last moment, dragging Marianna quickly away
from the group.

The line became a hiss of
static.

Then the caller’s voice
returned, more confident now, full of control. “Big words for a big bear.”

“Where is my son?” Joseph
demanded.

“Safe.”

“Then give him back.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Little bear will be returned
unharmed.”  

“When?”

“Will call again tomorrow. Be
ready.”

Click.

The agent slammed his hand
against the desk. “Nothing,” he moaned. “This guy knows just how long to
maintain a connection before chance of detection.”

Joseph handed the handset over.

Marianna broke away from Tyler
and stepped forward to deliver a blow to Joseph’s face. The slap caught him off
guard, and his head rocked back.

“What were you doing?” she
demanded.

Joseph was stunned.

Carter intervened. “Marianna,
Joseph’s quick thinking just saved your son’s life.”

“What? How?” she asked, tears
slipping down her cheeks.

Carter said, “He just confirmed
he doesn’t know who the killer is.”

“I – I don’t understand.”

“By saying if he didn’t get
Jake back, he’d find out who the killer was. Subterfuge, making the killer
believe his identity remains a mystery.”

Marianna’s hands rose to her
face, covering her mouth, her mistake now apparent. She looked to Joseph and
her face reddened with shame.

“Oh – Joseph…” she whispered.

Joseph stepped forward to take
her in his arms. “Hey – I love you.”

She stayed in his arms, drawing
his strength now, tears slipping heavily from her eyes.

“Please bring our boy back,”
she sobbed.

Joseph’s hands tightened into
fists behind her back. “I will. Even if the Devil himself stands in my way,
I’ll bring Jake home,” he vowed.