Russian Roulette dh-1 Page 14

  “Yeah, he was pretty steamed.”

  “Steamed? About the tire? It doesn’t bother him they were spotted almost a block away. That they went after me like a couple of Keystone Kops? He’s lucky I didn’t take the damn car. The tire, God, I wish that was my biggest problem. Things are so screwed up on this end I don’t know how screwed up they are.”

  “That’s pretty screwed up.”

  “I suppose now he wants me to go back over there and show those two clowns how to change a tire, or did they just call AAA on the Bureau plan?”

  “Actually, he wants you to come down here and talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You know, I gotta tell you, I have to work with these people. I don’t like it sometimes, but it comes with the territory and despite what you read in your comic books we do work together. Now, we are in the process of concluding a long-term investigation. I’m hopeful we’ll be able to bring it to a successful conclusion. There’s a lot of man hours, including mine, a lot of money, including the city’s, and maybe you could find time to climb off your high horse and at least listen to the man. Instead of being the pain-in-the-ass distraction you’ve become.”

  I thought about that.

  “Dev?”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Well, think while you’re driving. You can do two things at once, can’t you?”

  “You know…”

  “What I know is Peters wants to meet with you at five. He’s going to be down here in my office at four this afternoon for a Task Force meeting. I’m hoping you’ll be here too, you know, just to sort of lend support, to me. You might find it interesting to sit in on the meeting.”

  “Sit in? That gonna be all right with special agent Tight-Ass?”

  “Let’s just say it might be educational for everyone involved.”

  “Educational? Yeah okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Good, I’ll let him know you’re going to join us. See you then.” Aaron said and hung up.

  I hated it when Aaron played the loyalty card.

  Chapter 49

  I was tempted to be stylishly late, maybe fifteen minutes or so, but I didn’t need Aaron pissed off at me. I was issued my visitor’s badge at exactly eight minutes before four and a blond detective from Vice came down to escort me up to Aaron’s office.

  My luck held when it came to the blond. He was about five foot six, needed a shave, and wasn’t too happy about interrupting his day to escort me up on the elevator. If that doesn’t paint a picture his last name was Griswald, which seemed to fit.

  “How’s it going?” I asked.

  “Shit,” he half growled. That was the beginning and end of our conversation.

  When we entered the office area he jerked his stubbled chin in the general direction of Aaron’s office, turned and walked away.

  “Thanks,” I called after him, ever the gracious guest, then made my way to Aaron’s corner office. It was empty but there was a handwritten sign taped to the doorframe that read “Conference Room” and an arrow pointing the direction. I found the place in about twenty paces.

  The room had a long rectangular table with some sort of light gray Formica top, lots of comfortable looking chairs. Certainly more upscale than the outdated government-issue stuff dumped in Aaron’s office. Aaron sat on the far side of the conference table. Next to him was Hale, the I.C.E. guy that I sort of liked. A couple more faces I didn’t recognize and some that I did. Peters sat at the head of the table, behind two neat stacks of stapled handouts. He had a brand-new yellow legal pad and a freshly sharpened pencil set in front of him. I pulled out a chair across the table from Aaron, nodded at the few faces I recognized, including Hale, who smiled and winked back.

  “All right, now that we’re all finally here, we can begin,” Peters said just as my butt hit the chair.

  I glanced at my watch, it read two minutes before four.

  “Agent Dziedzic, if you’d do the honors,” Peters said to a woman sitting against the wall behind him. He slid one of the two stacks of handouts to the corner of the table.

  Agent Dziedzic had dark curly hair and brown eyes that seemed overly pronounced behind her large round frames. She wore the female version of a dark FBI suit, pressed and starched, although it looked better on her than Peters.

  She picked up the stack of handouts and began working her way around the table distributing one to every individual, working her way down the opposite side, around the far end of the table then back up toward me. When she came to me she glanced quickly at Peters, skipped me, then handed copies to the three guys between Peters and me.

  Peters gave her a perfunctory smile, pushed the second stack of handouts toward her, and she began the distribution process again. The recipients were flipping through the pages as Peters began to drone.

  “I’d like to thank you all for coming.” He made a point of giving perfunctory nods around the table, skipped over me, and continued.

  “What you have before you is a flowchart of the task force, identifying various local, state, and federal authorities providing a clear and concise chain of command. Please reference this schematic in future reports so that the information you provide can be accessed by everyone with the need to know in a timely manner. This second handout Agent Dziedzic is passing around is the most up-to-date flowchart of the Alekseeva organization up here in Minneapolis and how it interacts with the Kumarin organization down in Chicago.”

  Pretty Agent Dziedzic passed me by again, so I looked over at the copy of the fellow next to me. Not only did he not seem to mind, he moved the copy of the Russian organizations toward me. I noticed there was a Vlad Vucavitch listed as a player down in Chicago. The image was grainy and I couldn’t tell if he looked anything like Kerri. For that matter I didn’t know, maybe it was a common name, the Russian version of Smith or Jones. Peters was still droning on about how fantastic and up to date the information was. I noticed that Sergie Alekseeva, late of this world, was listed as the number two in Braco’s chain of command. I didn’t see Tibor listed anywhere.

  “… armed with this information we are now able to…”

  “Excuse me, Agent Peters.”

  Peters gave a brief smile in my direction, suggesting maybe he had some momentary intestinal discomfort then cleared his throat ever so slightly.

  “Mr. Haskell, you are here out of respect for our hosts, and my understanding is you are only here as an observer.” Then he nodded in Aaron’s direction. “I would ask that you refrain from interrupting these procedures so that the rest of us might continue with the business at hand. As I was saying, we will now be able to proceed…”

  I think the fuse had been lit when I saw him sitting smugly at the head of the table, wearing another neatly pressed subtle patterned suit, nicely starched shirt, tie complimenting everything perfectly. I’m sure he’d taken his wingtips out of some poor bastard’s ass just long enough to polish them. Or maybe it was his ill-advised reference to being in Minneapolis instead of St. Paul. Either way, I smiled back gracefully, then said, “Before you get down too far, I think you’ve missed an organizational adjustment here.”

  “Oh really, an organizational adjustment, that you just happen to know about,” sigh.

  I smiled innocently, thought why do you have to be such an insufferable prick? then said, “Yes, sir. The number two man in the Alekseeva organization, Sergie Alekseeva. I believe he was killed about forty-eight hours ago.”

  I glanced over at Aaron, his eyes were trained, target-like, on Peters, which told me to go for it.

  “We’re aware of those reports but there hasn’t been any confirmation. There has really been nothing of a concrete nature to indicate the victim in that particular incident was indeed Sergie Alekseeva.”

  “You think he was Andrew Quinn? The name on the guy’s driver’s license? He had Russian navy tattoos, that suggest his last name was Quinn?”

  “We deal in facts here, Haskell. Not speculation or innuendo. We can’t rush t
o a conclusion simply because it might be convenient. As I said, we are waiting for corroborating evidence. Now if there are no more…”

  “So, if someone from inside the Alekseeva organization confirmed it was little Sergie who is laying on a block of ice down at the morgue, that would help?”

  “What do you intend to do, ask them?” Peters said, tossing a pencil on the table.

  I think Aaron gave me the slightest of nods I wasn’t sure, but I went with it.

  “I’ve already done that, it’s been confirmed, twice.”

  “By who?”

  “A woman named Karina Vucavitch, goes by Kerri. I’m sure you’re aware of her, she’s Braco’s main squeeze, or one of them.” That got pages shuffling as people sought out Kerri’s name on the Alekseeva flow chart.

  Someone at the end of the table muttered, “Like Vlad Vucavitch.”

  “The other is Tibor Crvek, the butcher.”

  “You know who ‘The Butcher’ is?” some guy I didn’t know asked across the table. I thought I might have picked up on a little south side Chicago in his accent.

  “Where in God’s name do you come up with this fiction?” Peters asked shaking his head.

  “Fiction? I got a bullet hole in my windshield that adds some credibility to my claims. I had a bullet graze my head about a week ago compliments of the charming Ms. Vucavitch. And as for Tibor Crvek, I was up close and personal with him the other night.” I looked at the guy across from me, “you know he plays the cello, pretty well actually. He is ‘The Butcher.’” I neglected to add “at the Moscow Deli.”

  Peters looked like he had a put down ready to go on the tip of his tongue but the guy I’d guessed was from Chicago spoke first.

  “Back up a minute here, son. Are you saying you know Karina Vucavitch. You’ve talked with her, recently? And that you spoke with ‘The Butcher’ as well?”

  “Yeah, I was with her last night, actually she had been looking for me. Fortunately I was able to dodge the carload of thugs she brought along for company.”

  “We have no idea if it’s the same individual. For all we know you’re making all this up, Haskell,” Peters said.

  “How well did you get to know Karina Vucavitch?” I was sure he was from Chicago, now.

  “How well?” I asked, not following.

  “Any identifying characteristics you might remember?”

  “Oh yeah, well, she’s very attractive, speaks at least three languages, Russian, English and some German. She can drink vodka like a fish, and she’s trimmed, not shaved, a real blond if that’s what you mean.”

  “Jesus Christ, how many people do you have on your surveillance teams?” The Chicago guy asked.

  “Just me.”

  “And you’ve infiltrated these people?” a voice asked from the end of the table.

  Aaron looked at me wide eyed. I shrugged my shoulders suggesting I couldn’t help myself.

  “Anything else, any markings on the Vucavitch woman?” A voice asked from somewhere down the table.

  “Markings? You mean the tattoo on her butt? It’s a little angel sort of sitting on a cloud, looking off to the side like it was thinking or something. It had wings, sort of old fashioned looking, like a Victorian valentine or something. And it had writing but I couldn’t read it.

  “Agent Dziedzic?” he said to the woman sitting behind Peters.

  She cleared her throat, spoke a short phrase in what I assumed was Russian, then said, “Lord forgive me for bringing tears to my mother.”

  “Thank you, that’s Karina Vucavitch all right. If she said the body was Sergie, I think we can take that as gospel,” my new best friend from Chicago said.

  “I’m not at all convinced,” Peters scowled. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thank you for sharing your conquests, Mr. Haskell.”

  “I’m not sure who was doing the conquering,” I said.

  There were chuckles around the table, except for Peters who just stared at me. Dziedzic smiled behind his back. Aaron gave me a look that suggested “are you kidding!”

  “If we can get back to where I left off,” Peters said red-faced, looking at the papers in his hand. He then proceeded to drone on about all the good things that were going to happen because he’d taken the time to put together the two charts. Ever the corporate type he gave a short Power Point presentation basically regurgitating all the information included in the handouts.

  Eventually the meeting wound up. Peters couldn’t seem to get out of there fast enough. He had two other Federal toads traveling with him. It looked like it was left to pretty Agent Dziedzic to clean up the conference room.

  Chapter 50

  “Agent Peters,” I called to him out in the hallway. A couple of people were leaving, others hanging around in groups of two or three. The mood didn’t suggest a lot of business.

  “Did you want to meet with me at five?” it was already five forty-five.

  “I think I’ve heard enough from you for one day, Haskell.”

  “So we’re cool, on the tire I mean. I don’t want to get a surprise AAA bill in the mail.”

  “You know, Haskell, you might find destruction of government property funny, I don’t. My agents have a lot better things to attend to than chasing you all over town. You might think it cute, maybe even funny to hop in and out of bed with known prostitutes. I find it reprehensible and not at all the sort of conduct I deem appropriate in this or any other investigation.”

  “I came across your kind of appropriate conduct this morning. Those two stiffs you had watching me. If that is your idea of undercover surveillance we are all in trouble.”

  “The trouble with people like you, Haskell, is that for some unknown reason you think you matter.”

  I just smiled at him, which got him even madder.

  “Gentleman,” he said as he turned and headed for the elevators, tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber followed like little lap-dogs.

  “Way to smooth things over for me,” Aaron said from behind.

  “You think that guy is gonna really do anything with Braco the Whacko Alekseeva and his gang of merry men? You’d be better off going after them with pea shooters instead of having that guy on your team.”

  “There might be some manpower and budgetary considerations you’re glossing over there,” Aaron said.

  “Quite possibly,” I agreed.

  We spoke for a few minutes more. Aaron directed a couple attendees into his office, two of them Chicago guys. I noticed agent Dziedzic still back in the conference room packing up, so I poked my head in. She looked tired.

  “Long day?”

  “You can say that again,” she smiled.

  “Where’d you learn Russian?” I asked.

  “Home, my family’s from Kiev. I was actually born there but we came to the US before I was one. It was my major in university, grad school,” she said, then closed her briefcase, picked up another case, which I presumed held the Power Point stuff.

  “Let me help you,” I said and grabbed the larger of the two cases.

  “Oh, not necessary but thanks. Hey, I hope you didn’t take it personal, not giving you the handouts, that was Peters. He instructed me not to give you either of them at the meeting. I have to follow orders,” she shrugged her shoulders.

  “Not a problem. I can’t imagine working for that guy. I don’t know what I did but I really rub that guy the wrong way.”

  “It’s because you’re you.” We were walking toward the elevators now.

  “I don’t know how to be anyone else.”

  “No, I mean you’re sort of snaky, in a neat way, sometimes, I would guess. But he can’t come up with a box to put you in.”

  “You mean like a coffin?”

  “Not exactly but I’m sure that’s crossing his mind right about now. No, I mean he prepped all of us on your being here. One of the problems when dealing with the locals, unable to see the big picture, blah, blah, blah. We’ve heard it all before. He basically said the same thing about the team in
Chicago, so don’t feel like the Lone Ranger. Then you come in and in about two minutes not only do you confirm Sergie Alekseeva’s death, from two sources, you use two sources we’ve wasted months trying to get close to. Maybe you don’t know it, but you blew him right out of the water.”

  “I really didn’t mean to. I just thought it might help to work with current information.”

  “You actually slept with Karina Vucavitch?”

  “We didn’t sleep much,” I said as the elevator door opened. She shot me a quick glance but didn’t respond. We continued talking as we walked across the small ground-floor lobby and out the door. I carried the Power Point case to her car.

  “Thanks for your help,” she said when we got to her car. She popped open the trunk and I laid the case I was carrying inside.

  “My pleasure,” I said. “Hey, you wouldn’t have time for dinner, would you?”

  “Oh gee, thanks, but I don’t think under the circumstances that would be the best career move for me. But wait, here.” She opened her briefcase, gave me the two handouts.

  “Disobeying orders?” I asked.

  “Orders were not to give you the handouts at the meeting. We’re in the parking lot. I’d classify that as still obeying orders.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Agent Dziedzic.”

  Chapter 51

  I went home to study the handouts. I drove around my block three or four times in different directions just to be sure no one was lurking in the dark. I parked on the next street over, then stuck a business card in the steering wheel reminding me to check the engine before I turned on the ignition in the morning. Then I cut through the backyard of the house directly behind mine and went in my back door. I left the lights off and quietly went through the house. Thankfully it was empty. I placed a trunk in front of the kitchen door and an upholstered chair against my front door just in case someone decided to forego sneaky and just kicked the door in during the middle of the night.