Kop (29 page)

“Ice water? Wouldn’t you prefer something with a little kick?”

“I’m on duty.”

“You’re not going to let some silly rules stand in your way, are you?”

Maggie was emphatic. “Yes I am.”

“How about you, Juno? You wouldn’t mind sharing some brandy with me; would you?”

The early morning hour didn’t bother me. “You know I can’t turn down the good stuff.”

“Very well.” Sasaki made no move to get up for the drinks—no need to; our orders had been picked up by some unseen microphone and forwarded to the help.

I relaxed back into my chair. It responded with a light massage for my back. Damn, that felt good. I looked out over the pool, a blue-gem oasis surrounded by stark desert. Ben Bandur floated on a half-submerged lounge chair, only his toes and his bandaged head above the surface. “What happened to Ben?”

“You’re referring to the bandages?”

“Yeah.”

“He went up to the Orbital to have some work done. That’s why he didn’t make it to the mayor’s banquet the other night. He’s obsessed with his looks. I don’t know where he gets it, certainly not from his father. They built up his cheekbones and enlarged that less than masculine nose of his. He won’t stop talking about it. He pulled off the bandages to show it to me. You would’ve loved it. His nose was swollen up like a tomato, except it was purple. Funniest thing I ever saw. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.” Sasaki let out a rare smile. His teeth reflected sunlight.

“What did Ben think of you laughing?”

“He threw a fit, just like when he was a kid. He’s still spoiled rotten to the core.”

I’d never heard Sasaki be so disrespectful. When he worked for Ram, he was the consummate loyalist. “How’s he doing with the business?”

“I suppose he’s learning, but he’s still more focused on which whore to invite to his room every night. I wish his father were still alive, so he could knock some sense into him.”

“Did you tell Ben that?”

“Sure, I told him. He makes me so angry sometimes I can’t help myself. One of these days, he’s either going to shape up, or he’s going to burn a hole in my head. Half the time, I don’t care which.”

The houseboy approached, carrying a tray with our drinks. I could almost taste the brandy already. I sipped and took the time to enjoy the flavor before swallowing. “How’s the Simba situation?” Koba had been exclusive Bandur territory for over twenty years. I thought Koba would be Bandur domain forever. But now I wasn’t so sure anymore. Not since the Loja crime lord offered that gutsy mayoral toast.

Sasaki looked me in the eyes and nodded in Maggie’s direction as if to say, “Is it okay to talk in front of her?”

“Yeah. I’ll vouch for her.”

“Your word was good enough for Ram, so it’s good enough for me. I’m going to level with you, Juno. Simba’s becoming difficult. There’s no chance that he’d try to pull this on Ram. Ram would have killed him by now. Ever since Ram died, Simba’s been pecking away at us. He’s like a damn child always testing the limits. I keep telling Ben that we have to slam the door on Simba, but he just doesn’t have the balls to do it. Please excuse my language, Officer Orzo. Once I start hitting the hard stuff, I find my tongue has a mind of its own.”

Maggie said, “That’s okay. My father had a foul mouth as well. I didn’t think any less of him for it.”

“A very reasonable attitude.”

I asked, “How bad is it?”

Sasaki swirled brandy in his four-fingered hand. “Oh, it’s sufficiently contained for now, but the potential for disaster is right around the corner. We’ve got people in Floodbank paying double protection. They’re paying us and paying Simba’s people. How long do you think it will be before they quit paying us altogether? We’re supposed to be protecting them from other crime bosses. What else is protection money for? I explain this to Ben, and he just doesn’t get how serious the situation is. I told him about the stunt Simba pulled at the mayor’s banquet, but he was too excited about his new nose to care. You tell me, how do you get somebody motivated when he has everything he ever wanted handed to him before he even knows he wanted it?”

I shook my head and grimaced with a what-is-this-world-coming-to look.

Sasaki was struck by a thought. “Maybe you could talk to him, Juno.”

“What the hell good would that do?”

“He has no sense of what his father had to do to build this
business. You were there at the beginning, you and Paul. You could tell him some stories about his father. Tell him what a ruthless man his father was. How he had to fight for everything he got. The kid’s almost twenty-five, and he still hasn’t learned how to be tough. It would do him some good.”

I shook my head.

Sasaki persisted in trying to convince me. “Come on, Juno. It would be fun. You and Paul could come over. I’ll have a big dinner fixed up. We’ll split a couple bottles of brandy and swap some stories about the old days. What do you say?”

“I’ll tell you what, if you can talk Paul into it, I’m in. I hardly know Ben. I wouldn’t feel right talking to him about his father without Paul.”

“No problem. I understand what you’re saying. I’ll talk to Paul and let you know. All right? I really think it would help. He doesn’t listen to me anymore. So what brings you over?”

“We wanted to talk to you about one of your people.”

“Who?”

“Sanders Mdoba.”

“Why are you looking at him?”

Here we go.
My heart started pumping nervous beats.
Gotta play this one just right.
“His name came up in a murder investigation.”

“Murder? I thought you were working vice.”

“I was. Paul asked me to work this case.”

“Why did he do that?”

“The victim’s father works for the city, and Paul’s trying to score points with the mayor by putting Maggie and me on the case. He gave the mayor a line about me being the best detective he’s ever seen, and he ought to know since he used to be my partner. Then he told him that Maggie was the best recruit he’s seen since he’s been chief. He’s hoping that by playing nice he can get the mayor to cool his corruption investigation.”

Sasaki said, “I see. How did Mdoba’s name come up? Is he a suspect?”

“No.” I hoped I sounded truthful. “We know he didn’t do it. We already got our killer—a real schizo. Maggie fried the son of a bitch dead last night. As far as we’re concerned, the case is closed, but the mayor’s investigator—Karl Gilkyson—you know him?”

“No, but I know of him.”

“Well, then maybe you heard how big a shithead he is. It turns out that our killer made contact with Mdoba yesterday. I told him that the killer was probably just scoring some brown sugar off Mdoba. Who cares? But Gilkyson can’t let it go. Best I can tell, Gilkyson got wind that Mdoba’s one of your dealers, and now he wants us to ‘chase the lead.’ Can you believe that? This suit from the mayor’s office saying shit like ‘chase the lead.’ What an asshole. I told him there was nothing to find, but he won’t take no for an answer. He wants to get dirt on Mdoba so he can run it up the ladder to you and Ben.”

“What exactly do you want from us?”

“Your permission to talk to Mdoba.” I was holding my breath.

Sasaki savored a slow sip of his brandy. “You’re right to come talk to us first.” He paused to consider. I needed to breathe. I eased the air out of my lungs, and took long slow breaths so he wouldn’t notice.

A splash of water called my attention to the pool. Done with his morning swim, Ben Bandur stood on the pool’s edge, dripping water into puddles at his feet. The houseboy rushed over with a towel and dried him off while Bandur stayed in place, raising his arms and legs at the right times.

He strutted over to greet us. It was hard to believe this loser was Ram’s son. Ram was the most successful crime lord in the history of the planet, a powerhouse of a man. His control over Koba had been absolute. Nobody dared to challenge him. He
would’ve ruled Koba forever if it weren’t for the stealthy, underhandedness of a killer like cancer. Ram had the money to go up to the orbital station for treatment, but he absolutely refused to see an offworld doctor. Sasaki was right that he was the meanest SOB you ever saw, but he was a true Lagartan.

“Juno.” Ben used my name as a greeting. The center of his face was wrapped with pool water–drenched bandages. His bathing suit emphasized an unnaturally large bulge—his nose wasn’t the only thing he got extended.

“Hey, Ben. How’s it going?”

Ben ran his eyes up and down Maggie, checking her out. The bandages failed to hide the lascivious look in his eyes.

I said, “This is my new partner, Detective Maggie Orzo.”

Ben’s eyes focused on her crossed legs. “Nice legs,” he said in a nasal timbre.

Maggie was unsure how to respond, so she didn’t.

He said, “When do they open?”

Again, she didn’t answer, but I could see the flush in her cheeks. I wanted to throttle the little prick, rip those bandages off, and squeeze the hell out of his new nose—maybe fuck it up good. Even Sasaki shook his head in disapproval.

Sasaki spoke in an appeasing tone. “Juno and Officer Orzo want to talk to Sanders Mdoba.”

“Why do you want to talk to that fatass?” Ben’s nasal whine would have been funny if I hadn’t been so busy wanting to rip his nose off.

“They are investigating a murder case and—”

“What murder case?”

“An Army lieutenant,” I said. “Dmitri Vlotsky.”

“Never heard of him. Why do you want to talk to Sanders?”

Sasaki interjected. “He was seen talking to the murderer yesterday. They want to know why.”

“How the fuck should I know?”

Sasaki breathed deep. “They don’t expect you to know. They just want permission to talk to him.”

“Talk to him all you want. I don’t give a shit.” He turned his back on us and swaggered into the house.

Sasaki closed his eyes until his frustration passed. “You see what I have to put up with?”

I said, “He got some work done downstairs, didn’t he?”

“Yes. He had ‘erective surgery,’ as I like to call it. Ben doesn’t get the joke. Every time I say that around him, he tells me to stop talking like a chink.”

I laughed loud and long, fueled by nervous energy.

Sasaki got back to business. “You can talk to Mr. Mdoba. But you can only talk to him about your murder case. His relationship to Ben is strictly off-limits. Do you understand?”

“I understand just fine, Matsuo. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t talk to him at all. We’ll go, and he’ll make up some excuse why he met with our killer—end of story. Then, once Gilkyson sees there’s nothing there, he’ll drop it.”

I swallowed the rest of the brandy and got up to leave. I felt a slight alcohol fog in my head. We walked back through the house, taking the same path to the front door, which opened by itself when we approached.

I hopped into the car, and I aimed it for the Phra Kaew docks.

Maggie spoke while looking dead ahead. “Are you sure that was the best thing for us to do?”

“No.”

I wasn’t sure of anything. I had thought it best that we come to Bandur and Sasaki for permission to speak with Mdoba. If we had talked to Mdoba on our own, he surely would’ve told Sasaki we’d contacted him. That would’ve sent up red flags all over the damn place. Credit for my twenty-five years of loyal service to them would’ve evaporated instantaneously, and Sasaki and Bandur
might’ve decided to just kill Maggie and me rather than bother to find out what I’d been up to.

I’d made up the story about Gilkyson as a cover. The way I saw it, it should’ve worked either way. Either Bandur and Sasaki hired Zorno to whack Vlotsky or they didn’t. If they did hire Zorno, they would be alarmed that we connected Zorno to Mdoba. I figured all that bullshit about Gilkyson, and how we considered the case closed, would set their fears to rest. They would be thinking, what harm would it do to let Juno talk to Mdoba? Act like there’s nothing to hide. Even if Juno figured out we put out the contract on Vlotsky, Paul would shut him up before it went too far.

And if they hadn’t hired Zorno, they wouldn’t be worried at all about us talking to Mdoba. If anything, they would want to know if Mdoba was into something they weren’t aware of. Maybe he was moonlighting on them.

Maggie said, “Do you think Sasaki bought our cover story?”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Neither could I.”

S
ANDERS
Mdoba lived on a boat that was usually tied up to one of the docks in Phra Kaew. Maggie and I walked the labyrinth of walkways and rickety docks looking for the
Tropic of Capricorn
—an old tug turned houseboat.

We focused on the docks that held the larger vessels—worn-down trawlers leaking and listing, beat-up passenger boats with empty frames where seats used to be. It was still a big fishing time. Many of the moorings were vacated, making our job marginally easier.

The resort-owned
Lagartan Queen
was in dry dock. It was painted white with red trim, and it had a paddle wheel on front that gave it that old-timey feel. The ordinarily underwater nuke-powered props ruined the steamer illusion. The banner pinned to the rail read, “Sunset Cruises—One for $30, Two for $50.” Convert that to pesos, and you could buy a car. Lagartan workers were at work, scraping barnacles off the hull under the supervision of an offworld foreman who probably paid them by the hour.