The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller (13 page)

L
eine zipped the
bag closed and carried her suitcase to the living room as the front door opened.

“Leaving?” Santa threw his keys into the bowl next to him on the hall table, all the while looking at Leine.

“I was going to—”

“You were going to leave before I got home, weren’t you?” Santa brushed past her and walked into the apartment. “Easier, isn’t it?”

Leine dropped her overnight case and took a deep breath. “I have to go. Trust me, I understand your concerns. But the longer I wait, the harder it will be to find Elise.”

“The Bennetts took you off the case, Leine. She’s not your problem anymore.”

“She
is
my problem. So is every kid out there who’s scared and alone, who got themselves into some kind of trouble they can’t get out of.” Leine raised her hands. “If not me, then who’s going to look for them? I’ve got the skills. I’ve got the time.” She moved near Santa and cupped his scowling face with her hand. “I love you. You know that. I’m not running from
us
. I’m running to find
her.
”

“You’ll get hurt.”

“Welcome to my world.” Leine smiled faintly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How is this any different than what I get to deal with every day with your job?” she asked.

“I investigate murders. I’m not in the line of fire. You could have been killed.”

“You put yourself on the line when you investigate a murder. Any one of those murderers could find out who you are, where you live. Especially the ones you put away. We both know a killer’s reach can exceed his parameters.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, his expression sullen.

“Well, then, we’ll have to agree to disagree, won’t we?” Leine shook her head and gave him a kiss before walking back to her case. It was like kissing an immovable object. “You’re one stubborn cop, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He stepped in front of her, blocking the way. Dark eyes smoldering, he leaned toward her and returned the kiss, this one more demanding than the original. When he was finished, Leine leaned back, fanning herself.

“Is it warm in here?” she asked, looking around.

“Just remember what you’ve got.”

“Meaning?”

“Don’t take unnecessary risks. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Just then, the theme from
The Godfather
played from inside Leine’s purse. She put her case on the floor and fished out her phone, squinting at the number. Local, but not familiar.

“Leine Basso.”

“Is this same Leine Basso who receive favor from Vladimir Petrovich?”

Leine straightened at the deeply accented voice of the caller. “Yes,” she answered, suppressing a groan.
Not now.

“Good. We meet. Tomorrow, eleven o’clock.”

“Actually, this isn’t a good time—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Call me Nicholas.”

“Great. Nicholas. Look, I’m on my way out of town but would be happy to connect when I get back.”

“No. We meet. You will be tomorrow at IHOP near Santa Monica Pier. You know this place, yes?”

“Yes, but I—”

The line went dead.

“Shit.”

Santa cocked his head. “Who’s Nicholas?”

“Apparently a friend of a friend who expects me to meet with him.” Sighing in frustration, she returned the phone to her purse.

“Well, you’re leaving town, so call him back and make it for another day.”

“Yeah. I’ll give it a try on my way out.”
Fat chance
, Leine thought.
Not if he’s a friend of Vlad’s.

She walked to the door and turned back. “Look, I—”

Santa held his finger to her lips. “I love you. Be safe.” He leaned over and kissed her again, this time gently.

“Thank you for understanding,” she said, and left.

***

Leine put her bag in the trunk before getting into her car. She did a search on her phone, hit the call button, and waited, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

“Nadja Imports,” said the woman on the other end of the line.

“Vladimir Petrovich. Tell him it’s Leine Basso.”

A few minutes later, Vlad came on the line.

“And to what good fortune do I owe this indescribable pleasure?” Vlad’s heavy Russian accent made him sound like a James Bond villain. Or possibly a character from a Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon. It was a tough call.

“I just got off the phone with one of your buddies. Someone named Nicholas?”

“Ah, yes. Is there problem?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t make good on our deal at the moment. I’m leaving town for a few days, but I will be available for whatever he needs when I get back.”
And now I remember why I should never owe favors to Vladimir Petrovich,
Leine thought. Back when she was looking for the runaway, Mara, Leine had stalled in her search and needed to know the whereabouts of Vlad’s nephew, Yuri. He’d delivered, but on the condition she would repay the favor to Vlad or one of his business associates when asked.

Vlad chuckled. “I should not remind a woman such as you how favor works.” Vlad’s amiable tone sharpened considerably. “I am calling favor. He is needing your expertise. Meet Nicholas. Do thing he asks. Then, we will be squared. This is correct term, yes?”

“Square. We’ll be square.” Leine rolled her eyes. Maybe what Nicholas wanted wouldn’t take too long. “Do you know what he wants me to do?”

“Is much better, Leine, this attitude.” The clink of glass followed by a gurgling liquid floated over the earpiece. There was a brief pause before Vlad smacked his lips and belched into the phone. “Is very simple. You go where is shipment of Nicholas, make sure is safe, then deliver to our people. No problems.”

No problems. Sure. What the hell kind of shipment is this that needs babysitting?

“Can’t the shipment wait?”

“
Nyet
. Is now.”

“And there’s no one else who can babysit?”

“Only great Leine Basso.”

“May I ask what the hell is so important?”

“You may ask.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re not working with me here. What happens if I say no?” A field of red flags sprang up in her mind.

“How is daughter? In Paris now, yes? Is happy with boyfriend, I think.”

“You’re not seriously going to use my child as a bargaining chip?” Leine could feel the heat rise in her face as a surge of anger flowed through her. “That’s pretty fucking low, Vlad.”

“Is very important, this shipment.” Vlad’s amiability had left the building. His voice had taken on a deadly serious tone.

She was damned if she was going to let him use her daughter’s life to blackmail her into doing his bidding. “You do remember what happened to the Frenchman’s son when he used April to get to me, right?”

There was a long silence, followed by the sound of another shot being poured. Then, “My people tell me some rat fucks are looking for woman who killed two Albanian nationals south of border, in Mexico. Do you know of this?”

Checkmate.

“How would I know anything about that?”
Word travels fast on the criminal grapevine
. “Are they sure it was a woman?”

“
Da.
I doubt there is more than one Leine Basso.”

Leine clenched and unclenched her fist. Vlad had her twelve ways to Sunday. Even if he wasn’t sure it was Leine who shot them, he could let slip something about a former assassin living in LA who may or may not be the one they were looking for. They wouldn’t care if they’d identified the right shooter or not. As long as they got rid of someone who could’ve killed the two gunmen, vengeance would be served. And it wouldn’t take much for them to find her unless she went to ground.

She so didn’t need that kind of stress in her life.

With a deep sigh, she said, “Where do I need to go, and how long is this going to take?”

“Is short trip. Shipment is in Baja. Babysit, as you say, to Los Angeles, hand over to my people. Two days, maximum.”

“And who will I be working with in Baja?”

“Is associate,” Vlad said, his voice trailing off.

“An associate. Right.” Trying to get a straight answer from someone like Vlad was an exercise in frustration. “Vladimir Petrovich, you know I need more than that. You want me around for future projects, right? If I don’t come back from this, how can I be of use to you?”
That’s it, Leine. Dangle more favors in front of him. He’ll bite
. Although, she sure as hell wasn’t going to put herself in the same position again.

He didn’t have to know that.

“
Da
. Okay.” Vlad pulled in a deep breath and let it go. “The man you will be contacting is KLA shit.” He practically spit the words. “But, we do what we must, yes?”

“KLA. You mean the Kosovo Liberation Army? Didn’t they disband after the war?”

“Is active. Maybe use different name, but is KLA.”

The KLA had been instrumental in igniting war in the mid-to-late nineties in response to ethnic cleansing by the Serbs when Slobodan Milosevic was in power. There’d been reports of KLA involvement in drug running, arms dealing, and mass murder, culminating in charges of crimes against humanity. By the end of the conflict both sides stood accused, with the rape of hundreds, possibly thousands of Muslim women a particularly egregious consequence.

“What is the KLA doing in Mexico?” Eastern European thugs in Mexico? Recent events connected in Leine’s mind. Had they set their sights on Latin America because of the perceived lawlessness there?

Vlad shrugged, distaste evident in his voice. “Drugs, weapons. Who knows what is in mind of criminal?”

Leine bit her lip to keep from voicing the sarcastic remark that sprang to mind. Vlad truly didn’t view himself as a criminal. More like a businessman with unorthodox methods.

“How is it they’re allowed to operate in Mexico? The cartels generally don’t like to share.”

“KLA is involved in drug trade since before Mexicans. Think Colombia. Afghanistan.”

“Is this shipment in Tijuana?”

“No, why?”

“Just curious.” Tijuana was in the Baja. Maybe she could work in a side trip.

“A curious Leine Basso is not to disregard.”

“Really. There’s no reason.”

“I see.” He paused. “Then you are meeting Nicholas tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, Vlad. I am meeting.”

T
he next morning
Leine pulled into the IHOP parking lot and got out, locking her door behind her. The blast of the restaurant’s air conditioning hit her full force and she pulled her jacket closed. It didn’t take long before she spotted Nicholas sitting in a booth at the rear of the restaurant, his back to the wall.

A grossly overweight Peter Lorre instantly leapt to mind, or perhaps Jabba the Hutt from Star Wars; large, expressive dark eyes in a mottled face, thick lips and cheeks over a bullfrog chin perched atop a freezer-sized body encased in an expensive navy blue suit and tie. His crisp white shirt strained at the buttons, unable to accommodate his bulk or the meal he was in the process of shoveling into his mouth: a double stack of Belgian waffles covered in boysenberry syrup with fried chicken, side order of sausage, side of bacon, and a plate of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream.

“What, no hash browns?” Leine asked, walking up to the table.

Nicholas grunted and waved her into the seat across from him.

“Is coming,” he replied, his mouth full. He leaned back, breathing heavily as he chewed, watching her with the interest of someone scrutinizing a wasp.
Will it come close enough to sting? Should I kill it before it does?

Leine sat down, placing her bag next to her.

“Nicholas, I presume.”

The mountainous man nodded and hoovered another forkful of waffle into the gaping chasm of his mouth. A waitress came by and briskly delivered the aforementioned hash browns, fussing over him and giving him the Best-Customer-of-the-Day smile before she disappeared into the kitchen. A scene from an old Monty Python movie flashed through her mind as Leine wondered how anyone could ingest that much food at one sitting and not explode.

Talent. Sheer talent.

“Vladimir gave me a brief rundown of what you want me to do, but I have to tell you, shepherding a shipment of unknown origin and content isn’t my idea of a stress-free gig.”

“Is not to worry.”

“Right. Then why do you need me to babysit?”

Nicholas shrugged, washing his breakfast down with a large glass of milk.

“I do not trust people,” he said, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

“Yeah, well, neither do I, but that doesn’t tell me what I need to know.” Leine leaned forward. “Vlad mentioned I’d be working with a former member of the KLA. I’m familiar with the organization, but I need to know a bit more about them. For instance, what did they do in the war?”

Nicholas frowned, his face folding onto itself as he did—evidently in an attempt to convey disgust.

“He is idiot son of diseased, dick-sucking whore—” He stopped, an apologetic look on his face. “Forgive. Is bad person. No morals.”

“I gathered that. But why? Does he steal? Cheat? Kill?”

“
Da
. All of these things.” Nicholas paused, resting his fork on his plate. His gaze lost focus as he stared into the restaurant. Leine turned to see what he was looking at, but everything appeared normal.

“Is good with knife,” he finally said, and jammed another forkful of waffle into his mouth.

“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”

Nicholas shrugged a shoulder and continued to inhale his breakfast.

Leine sighed. It wasn’t like she’d never gone into a job blind before, but common courtesy dictated she be given at least some background.

Oh, wait. What was she thinking? The words Russian mafia and common courtesy normally weren’t used in the same breath, let alone the same conversation.

“I can’t do the job without more information, Nicholas. I’m not suicidal. You have to give me more than that.”

He wiped a meaty palm on the napkin and picked up a manila envelope from the seat beside him. He slid it across the table, narrowly missing a pool of boysenberry syrup.

Leine took the envelope and glanced inside. It contained the photograph of a man with a blond crew cut and hard eyes, clipped to a street map of Ensenada. A red circle indicated an address outside of town.

“This isn’t even close to enough, Nicholas.” Leine could feel her blood pressure begin to rise.
Goddamn Russians. You can never get a straight answer out of them. This is my fucking life he’s playing with.

“
Da
, I know. The rest I tell. You must memorize,” he said, tapping his temple with his finger.

By the time Nicholas finished, Leine had learned the basics. She knew she was to fly to Ensenada that evening on Nicholas’s private jet and meet with a man named Grigori, who would supply whatever weapons she needed. Early the next morning, she and Grigori would go to the place indicated on the map where she would meet with a man named Zamir, the former KLA member, and pick up the shipment. From there, with Grigori’s help she’d accompany the shipment into the US where she was to hand it over to Nicholas’s representative. He assured her there would be no problems crossing the border. When she’d pressed him as to why, he said Grigori knew a special route and had done it many times before.

Jabba was cagey about what was actually in the shipment, but he’d assured her there were no drugs, human beings, or weapons. That left an ocean of possibilities, most of which Leine didn’t like.

Unfortunately, that was the plan, and she had to go along with it, or Vlad would make good on his threat to her daughter or herself. Of that she had no doubt.

The only problem being, in her world things rarely went according to plan.