The Spirit Survives (42 page)

Sergey recognized that he had to work with his two principal sources masterfully and then kill them. The turncoat FBI agent, Macy, was in his pocket and the primary police informant was as greedy as ever to provide information for money. His first order of business was to kill Ben Harris, whom his source told him knew far too much about his operation and was hell bent on revenge for the rape of his bride-to-be. After that he had to arrange the killing of Leah Hamilton, while she was in the institution. His final tasks were to eliminate his informant and the FBI lady. All this was necessary to clean the slate and remove all threats from him and his businesses. If he could arrange to get them all at the same place at the same time, his worries would be over.
 

He needed the help of one man, the Benefactor. He wanted to forge a partnership with this elusive criminal and continue to build his empire.

Sergey kissed his wife goodbye and left his home on that windy Chicago morning, his destination being his private condo. He knew that he would be alone since Melissa had gone to Charleston to visit her parents for a few days. Sergey was anxious to put the wheels in motion to clean up his problems. He brushed by security and took the elevator directly to his condo. He moved to the bar and prepared a bloody mary, went to the couch sipping it. Sergey set the drink on the coffee table, grabbed his cell phone and punched in the number that Macy had given him. After eight rings her voice mail came on, “Leave your number, and I will call back,” was the message. He mumbled his number and hung up. He sat there waiting, sipping his morning drink. After about ten minutes the cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“This is Macy,” the sultry voice on the other end said, “I’m returning your call, and I have some information for you.”

“I’m paying you a damn lot of money, and I want action now,” Sergey grumbled.

“Be patient, Sergey,” she said. “I talked to Ben Harris, and I can have him at your condo late this afternoon. He thinks he’s coming there with me to get evidence to put you in prison. Believe me, he’s mad as hell and wants you dead, but he’ll settle to see you in prison for life. He’s flying in today and should be at O’Hare by noon. I’m not going to give him time to plan anything tricky. I’ll surprise him, meet at the airport and drive him directly to your condo. We should be there by 2:00 p.m. at the latest. Can you be ready?”

“Hell Yes!” Sergey said, “Make damn sure you get him here.”

“As you said, you’re paying me a lot of money, and I want to collect it today,” Macy replied.

When the conversation ended, Sergey immediately called one of his most trusted security men in his Mafia family, Aleksey Kalmakoff. Aleksey knew how to maim and kill and was without scruples.
 

“Aleksey, I want you to get Pavel Abramov and come to my condo by one o’clock today. I’ve got people coming who need to be eliminated. Do you understand?”

“We will be there, Sergey,” was the reply in Russian.
 

Sergey had selected Pavel Abramov to accompany Aleksey because of this man’s ability to kill with his bare hands in a brutal manner. He was strong enough to crush all the bones in a person’s throat.
 

Sergey had one more call to make, the Benefactor. He dialed the number that the Benefactor had given him, punched in the code and hung up.

He rested and anticipated the return call. He waited thirty minutes and no reply. He picked up the phone to try again when it rang.

“What do you want, Sergey?” said the Benefactor, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I have difficulties and I require your help,” Sergey said. “I’m willing to pay double your usual fee. I need a woman named Leah Hamilton silenced for good. She’s a patient in a rehab center in Houston.”

“I know the woman and where she is,” the Benefactor interrupted him.

“If you make sure that she never gets out of there alive, I’ll cut you in on my business. Partnership with you would make us untouchable.”

There was a momentary silence and then the Benefactor replied, “I think a partnership with you would be acceptable. I’ll take care of the girl, and we can work out the details later.”
 

Sergey heard the abrupt click as the Benefactor hung up his phone. Anger blazed in his skull. He was not accustomed to being treated in such an impertinent manner, but the Benefactor was the powerful partner he needed so he quashed his anger.

Sergey finished his bloody mary and began preparing for his afternoon blood fest.

Chapter 84

The Benefactor was relishing the same pleasant Chicago day as Sergey, but for entirely different reasons. The elaborate groundwork he had laid was faultlessly in place. His alliance with Macy had put the final pieces of the puzzle together. She would deliver Ben Harris to Sergey, and he would surely kill him and probably Macy too. Sergey didn’t ever leave witnesses. He was certain that the Russian would have some of his men there to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies. He planned to stake out the condo and after Sergey’s men left, he would go in and take care of the Russian once and for all. The Benefactor had his man in place to take over Sergey’s Mafia family. He would then control the two primary Mexican cartels in the country and the Mafia family that managed the drug trade in Houston and Chicago.
 

His only regret was that he would not have Macy’s eyes for his collection, but his consolation prize would be Leah Hamilton’s eyes. His potent control of the Salazar cartel in Houston would allow him to get access to Leah Hamilton any time he wanted. At his behest, they had already bribed a counselor in the rehab center where she was being treated. One good thing about today’s America, money could buy you anything. As soon as he eliminated Sergey, he would have Leah delivered to him for his pleasure. He needed raw sex and after he was finished with her, her beautiful eyes were his for the taking. He almost drooled in anticipation.

The Benefactor glanced around his office. The front wall was glass with a glass entrance door. The office was small, only containing his desk, chair and a small conference table with four chairs. On his desk was a picture of him and his wife. He was in full uniform, smiling as she looked up at him with pride. The picture was taken the day he was decorated for bravery and service to the people of Chicago. Behind him on the wall was a picture of the honorable Mayor of Chicago. It was signed to him with the inscription, “Thanks for your service to the people of Chicago. Best Wishes, Richard Daley.”

The Benefactor smirked at the pictures and loathed the shabby office. He deserved a penthouse office overlooking Lake Michigan with a bar and a reception area. Soon, when his plans were accomplished, he would resign from his shitty job and live the life he merited. He desired to live a life of luxury and at his leisure add to his beloved collection. He had more money than he could ever spend stashed in overseas accounts. He would soon control a criminal empire. The Benefactor planned to wield his power from France and Italy. He intended to give the word opulence a new meaning.
 

The Benefactor’s thoughts were interrupted by an officer approaching his office with an emergency. The Chicago police department was always a busy place.
 

Chapter 85

Steam rose from the streets on the sticky day in Houston. It was 8:00 a.m. and the temperature was already eighty-four degrees. It had rained the night before and the humidity was in the high nineties. I was about halfway to George Bush International to catch my 10:00 a.m. flight and was stuck in a traffic jam. There was no way of knowing what was causing the stand-still. I was only fifty-feet from an exit that would put me on the feeder road. In Texas, unlike most other states, there are feeder roads running parallel to all major highways. After sitting there for twenty minutes and not moving, I decided,
to hell with this
. I pulled over to the shoulder and rode the grass to the exit. The drivers I passed glared at me, but I couldn’t afford to miss this flight. After getting on the feeder road of I-45, I had a straight shot to Will Clayton Blvd. I took my exit, turned on Will Clayton and followed the signs to the car rental return area. The shuttle from the car rental return area got me to the terminal at 9:15 a.m. I checked my bags, made it through security, and arrived at the gate at 9:45. The flight was on time and was loading. I slipped in line and soon was in my aisle seat on row fourteen. My breakfast turned out to be a muffin and a glass of tomato juice.
 

Thirty minutes into the flight, I pulled the airline phone that was in front of me and inserted my credit card to make a call. So much was happening that I had forgotten to tell Rex Herns I was returning to Chicago this morning. I punched in his office number and waited for the ring. He answered immediately, “Rex Herns here, what can I do for you?”

“Hi Rex, this is Ben. I’m on a Continental flight now headed to Chicago. I should be there in about an hour and a half. I received another call from that mysterious female saying she could help me nail Sergey Ivanova. He raped Leah and I want that son-of-a-bitch to pay.”

Special Agent Stewart called me and filled me in on the situation there,” he replied, “but I told you, Ben, you’ve got to be careful with Ivanova. He’s got connections is high places, and he’s dangerous. Where are you staying in Chicago?”

“The Presidential Towers. I plan to go directly there when I arrive at O’Hare,” I replied. “Can we meet later this afternoon and we can discuss the best strategy?”

“Okay, let’s meet at the Asian restaurant in the lobby at fivc. We can have an early dinner and discuss the situation,” he said.

I agreed and we hung up.

I reclined my seat, laid my head back and dozed off. The next thing I heard was the flight attendant telling me to put my seat in an upright position for landing at O’Hare. The touchdown was a little rough as the wind shears were heavy. I grabbed my carry-on from the overhead and walked to baggage claim to collect my luggage. Surprising to me, there was only a fifteen-minute wait. I got my bags and walked out the exit to get the Hertz van to the rental car station outside the airport. As I was waiting for the van, a striking Indian woman approached me. She was dressed in a navy blue pants suit with white blouse buttoned to the top. Her long black hair hung below her shoulders. The conservative clothing could not hide her provocative body. She smiled at me and said, “Hi Mr. Harris, I’ve been waiting on you.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” I said.

To my surprise, she pulled an FBI badge from her purse and said, “I’m Special Agent Ahalya Verma Singh, but you can call me Macy.” I took the badge and examined it meticulously. It was authentic.

“What are you doing here, Macy?” I asked. “And, please call me Ben.”

“Thanks, Ben,” she said. “I’ve been working undercover for the past year trying to bust the Russian Mafia here in Chicago. I’m the person who called you and informed you about Leah. I couldn’t risk breaking my cover, so I couldn’t tell you who I was. I know you’re a former cop, so I hope you’ll understand the delicate situation I’m in.”

“If you can get into Sergey’s condo and find evidence on him then why are you including me? That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“Special Agent Stewart from Houston called and asked me to include you on the bust as a favor to him. He said you needed to be involved in bringing Sergey down. That’s the only reason I’m doing it. But if you don’t want to be involved, no problem, I’ll do it myself.”

“I need to help with this,” I answered. Macy seemed very confident to me and if Gerry trusted her, then I trusted her.
 

She looked at her watch. “The reason I picked you up is that our window of opportunity to get into his condo is from two until three. After that we stand a chance of him returning. When I talked to you before, I thought our timing would be later this evening, but that changed. We need to go directly to his condo now so we can have time to search it thoroughly.”

I don’t like surprises, but I agreed to go with her. I grabbed my luggage and we proceeded to her car in the short-term parking deck.
 

The wind had picked up in Chicago, and it was blowing in a cold front. Dark clouds gathered and rain would be falling soon. I watched the buildings pass as we drove to the downtown Chicago area. We soon entered the elite Gold Coast area where the rich and the corrupt politicians lived. We pulled into the parking lot of the impressive Walton on the Park building.
 

“Just follow my lead,” Macy said as we walked to the entrance of the structure. As soon as we entered, we faced the security desk.
 

A lanky blond guard with black-rimmed glasses and skin scarred from teenage acne smiled at us. “Can I help you?”

“I have permission to see Mr. Ivanova on floor seven. I’m Macy Crick,” she replied.

The guard checked his list, looked up at her curiously, and then looked at me. “Wait, I need to check with the head of security,” he said. He picked up the phone and punched in a number and spoke briefly to the person on the other end.
 

In less than two minutes another guard approached the desk. Macy looked totally calm and confident. The guard was in his forties, shaved bald head, very tall with brown eyes. He was not smiling.