The Mistaken (42 page)

I sighed, wiping my hands over my face in
exhaustion. I told them the story of Nick’s accident, the deaths of
our family, his injuries, recovery, and subsequent addiction. I
related how Nick turned first to petty crime to support his habits,
then to armed robbery which led to the involvement of the Russians.
I explained how I’d tried, in vain, so many times, to pull my
brother away from their influence, even going so far as to injure
one of Dmitri’s men, something for which he took great offense. I
told them how I was lured to Dmitri’s Tea House to see my brother,
who’d been injured while forced to participate in human dog fights
because of my transgressions against them.

Neither one of them seemed surprised when I shared
the details of my evening in the cage, or of watching my brother
crushed beneath the boot of a brutal animal, all at the whim of a
rapacious madman who benefited financially from each blow. I felt
as though they knew it already and were simply waiting for me to
confess my participation. The federal agent, who had remained
silent up to this point, finally addressed me with a steely
gaze.

“Mr. Karras, I’m Special Agent Maksim Sidorov with
the FBI. I am very familiar with Dmitri Chernov and the Russian
syndicate here in San Francisco. I have been investigating Chernov
for well over two years now, including his involvement in the
Solntsevskaya Bratva
and
vory v zakone
,” he said with
a perfect Russian accent, “and all of his connections in Little
Russia and beyond. I attended the fights tonight at the warehouse.
I saw what happened to your brother. And I saw you, as well.” His
implication was clear.

My eyes danced between the two men before settling
on Sidorov. “Bloody hell! You were there?” I jumped up to face him,
knocking my chair over backwards and pushing the table forward as I
leaned towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn’t
you stop it? How could you allow that to continue after the first
fight?”

I stepped out from behind the table. Detective
Stevens was surprisingly quick as he bowled me up against the wall
behind me, his forearm crushing my throat. I ignored Stevens and
glared at the agent across the small room. Detective Avery burst in
and grabbed me by the arm. He bent it behind my back and spun me
around to face the wall. I resisted both men as they worked to
subdue me, twisting my head to look back over my shoulder at Agent
Sidorov.

“You goddamn son of a bitch! You could have
prevented this, but you just sat there and watched with the rest of
those fucking animals. You let my brother die! How could you do
that?
How?
”

“Calm yourself, Mr. Karras!” Sidorov shouted over
the detectives who were mumbling threats in my ear. “There was
nothing I could do. I was deep undercover and couldn’t reveal
myself. You saw how fast your brother was taken down. I left the
building and called for backup when I saw how badly your brother
was injured, but it was too late. There was nothing I could have
done.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! If you knew about Dmitri
like you said then you should have known what could have happened.
You never should have allowed those fights to take place in the
first place.”

“
Mr. Karras, the few times I’d been
allowed to attend the fights, there had never been anyone killed. I
was trying to gather the evidence to bring Chernov down, to stop
those fights, as well as his other activities. I didn’t expect
anything like that to happen. I’m very sorry, but there was really
nothing I could have done at that point. I had no choice but to see
it through.”

“Fuck you! There’s always a choice. You just made
the wrong one.” I struggled against the two detectives who pressed
me against the wall. “Get the fuck off me!”

They ignored me and pressed even harder. “You gonna
calm down, Karras?” Avery asked.

I was bruised all over, and too many of my ribs
already felt broken without them smashing me against the concrete
block wall. I stopped straining against them and slowly relaxed.
“Yes. Now let go of me.”

The two men eased up and backed away. I wrapped both
arms around my body, closed my eyes, and leaned my forehead against
the wall, waiting for the pain to ebb.

“Do you need medical attention?” Sidorov asked,
sounding more annoyed than concerned.

I considered it; I knew was in pretty bad shape. But
Hannah’s claw marks and the bullet wound in my shoulder would
likely bring about a whole round of questions Hannah would rather I
not answer. So I gritted my teeth and declined. “No, just…just give
me a minute.”

I dragged my chair back to the table and sat down.
Sidorov and Stevens did the same while Avery leaned his shoulder
against the wall behind me with his arms crossed over his thick
chest. Everyone was quiet for a few minutes while I pulled myself
together.

“Like I told you,” Sidorov began, “I was deep
undercover. I’d already spent well over a year establishing a
relationship with Chernov’s people. Nobody knew I was with the
Bureau. As far as they were concerned, I was just another invited
guest, there for a little entertainment and friendly sport.

“When your brother went down, I left to call for
backup, but I still had to protect my identity. I went outside. A
few of Chernov’s goons were standing guard nearby. I made it seem
like I was going out for a quick smoke and a phone call. Next thing
I knew, people were streaming out of the building. By the time my
backup and the SFPD arrived, most everyone had already fled. But
there was quite a mess left back inside, wasn’t there, Mr. Karras?
I want to know what happened in there. So, what can you tell us
about the seven dead men found at the warehouse after you
fled?”

I stared at him without acknowledging what I knew.
Frankly, I was surprised there were only seven. “Sorry. I don’t
know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm, is that so? So you have no idea how the last
remaining fighter ended up with a broken neck, or how Alexi Batalov
might have sustained a cracked skull and a lethal stab wound to his
back?”

I squeezed my bruised hands together to subdue the
tremors and shook my head, never letting my eyes fall from
Sidorov’s. “Nope, none at all.”

“And the five sizable men known to be Chernov’s body
guards? No idea how they died either?”

“Can’t say that I do, Agent Sidorov, but karma can
be a real bitch, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t keep myself from throwing him a
challenging smile. Sidorov and both detectives scowled at me, the
same exasperated look drawn across each face.

“And what about Hannah Maguire?” Sidorov tilted his
head to the side. “What can you tell us about her? How did she
acquire her injuries?”

My smile faded, and my heart sank. I bowed my head
in regret and humiliation and closed my eyes against all three
men.

“We know you escorted Ms. Maguire into the emergency
room earlier. We also know she was assaulted, suffering
considerable injuries and—”

My head snapped up. “What injuries exactly? Is she
okay? Will she be all right?”

Sidorov smiled, happy he’d found vulnerable spot.
“Are you family, Mr. Karras?”

I looked at him, confused. “Family? No. No I’m not,
but…she and I have—”

Sidorov interrupted with a dismissive wave of his
hand. “Then I’m sorry. I can’t give you any details.”

With a sigh, I lowered my head to my hands clasped
tightly on the table. Sidorov must have felt sorry for me, though
he huffed in exasperation.

“She’s been admitted, but she’ll recover,” he
offered.

I looked back up at him. “Thank you,” I replied,
grateful for his mercy. I relaxed and leaned back in my chair.

“So, how do you know Ms. Maguire?” Stevens
asked.

“That’s another long story.”

Sidorov threw his pen down onto his notepad then
folded his arms across his chest. “By all means,” he said.

I told them about Jillian, the circumstances
surrounding her death, and the woman I believed responsible. I
explained how I started drinking heavily afterwards, wallowing in
my misery, looking for some kind of retribution. I told them Nick
and I had decided to find Erin Anderson and confront her, if for no
other reason than to have some kind of closure, but we had
inadvertently misidentified Hannah as Erin because, not only did
they look alike, but Erin was also in a relationship with Hannah’s
husband.

Sidorov’s brow shot up. “You’re joking.”

I shook my head and continued. I thought about
Hannah and what she wanted me to say if it came down to it. If it
was just about me, I would have confessed everything, but Hannah
didn’t want that, so I fought the urge and related exactly what
she’d asked me to.

“That doesn’t make sense, Mr. Karras. Why would she
leave with you, a man she didn’t even know and who was obviously
involved in a dangerous situation?” Sidorov wondered aloud.

“Well, I apologized for that, and told her she could
be in danger if she stayed there alone, that I didn’t know who else
might have been watching me. She was a loose end; she could
identify the man who had broken in, possibly tie him back to
Dmitri. Hannah was frightened, and I guess she would rather have
taken her chances with me than with Dmitri’s men. That’s it.”

“That’s hardly
it
,” Sidorov said. “We have
the two of you on surveillance video at a bank ATM over
seventy-five miles away near Cle Elum, Washington. Ms. Maguire
appeared to be very upset. While you seemed to be…oh, I don’t know,
in control, I’d say.”

“Of course she was upset,” I answered, the lies
coming much easier. “She’d just been through a traumatic
experience, and neither one of us knew what to do. I was simply
trying to…help her out. That’s all.”

Sidorov offered me a slight smile. “Ah yes, the Good
Samaritan. Such an interesting way to look at it.” He shook his
head and rifled through his legal pad, checking his extensive list
of notes. After a brief pause, he looked up and said, “And what
happened in Biggs, Oregon exactly?” His eyes returned to the pad
and pointed to a particular line. “It seems you registered in
your
name and secured the room with
her
credit card.”
He looked up from his notes, his brow drawn up in question. “Though
you forgot to pay in cash as you promised the clerk, that is,
before you gunned down a man in your room and fled…again.”

“No, I paid him cash. I just asked him not to run
her card through. I was afraid Chernov’s goons might be following
us. And they were. That was Dmitri’s man at the motel, the same one
from Hannah’s house. He broke in and fired his gun, even pulled a
knife. I just fired back in self-defense.”

Sidorov smiled like a cat with a canary. I’d stepped
into his trap, admitting I’d killed the intruder. “I see,” he said.
“And where did you get the gun?”

“It was Nick’s. He gave it to me for protection
before Hannah and I left.”

“Aw, that’s touching. But while he was shot in the
stomach with a gun we have not yet recovered, the victim was
actually killed by a round to the head, and we believe the gun used
to kill him belonged to the dead man himself. I’m curious how that
happened.” He sat back in his seat, his pen tapping against the
legal pad. “Tell me, whose prints will we pull off that gun, do you
suppose? Yours, by any chance?”

“Yes, most likely. After I clipped him the first
time, I took his gun away to protect myself and Hannah, but even
injured, he attacked me again. Like I said, he pulled a knife. So I
shot him. His gun proved to be much more effective than mine.”

Sidorov stopped writing and looked up from his
notes. He clasped his hands and rested them on the pad. “My, my,
you have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “Just telling you how it happened.”

“Is that so? Well, then, tell me why Dmitri Chernov
wanted to kill you and your brother?”

I shook my head and offered him a weak smile. “I
don’t know exactly. It seemed to me like an overreaction to a mere
disagreement, but those Russian boys are serious about their work,
and they hated me for coming in between them and Nick.” I shrugged
again.

Sidorov smiled, like he didn’t believe a word I
said. “Why were you and Ms. Maguire at the Four Seasons here in The
City,” he persisted, skipping from one incident to the next in what
I was sure was an attempt to trip me up.

Another casual shrug. “Just a place to decompress
before I met with Dmitri about my brother.”

“What about your brother?” He referred to his notes
once more. “You said earlier that you left him back at the motel in
Issaquah, Washington, correct?” He peeked up at me.

I nodded. “Right.”

“What happened to him, then? How did he end up in
Chernov’s cage?”

“Nick drove back here to try to talk sense into
Dmitri, so he would call off his dogs. But it didn’t work,” I said,
the anger and bitterness seeping back into my voice. “Agent
Sidorov, earlier tonight, Nick told me that he’d fought his first
bout two nights ago, and that last night, he was forced to fight
again. Besides being a mess physically, he was pretty upset about
it. He thought he might have killed the poor bastard, but he felt
he had no choice. It was either kill or be killed, something you,
in your two years of investigation and being undercover, should
have known before going into that warehouse. If you had, we might
not be here tonight, and my brother might still be alive.”

He ignored my comment and stared hard at me with his
chin jutting out and his lips pressed tight, like I’d struck a
nerve. “And what about Ms. Maguire?” he countered.

The tic in my jaw began to work as I stared back.
“What about her?”

“Well, you said she was under your protection, yet
she turns up at the hospital, beaten and raped. Brutalized
even.”