"I think he is on the wrong side of the line, but I don't have anything to go on."
"That was my feeling too."
The two men chatted for a while, then Adam left. No word from Brad, but he didn't expect much on a Sunday.
Brad waved an Interpol warrant at him when he walked in the squad room.
"We've got him, Adam. Interpol wants him. It's just Jennifer and Davis' bad luck that they tried to blackmail a really bad guy."
Howarth, or Howaravich, a well-known crime figure in Moscow, fled the country when even he couldn't buy enough protection, or intimidate enough police to keep himself secure. He was wanted on an Interpol warrant for gunrunning activities and in Canada for drug and prostitution ring organizations.
Adam notified the FBI and also called Bill Perkins to let him know what was in the works. The FBI field agent in Burlington was coming to Culver's Mills to go over Adam's data. Bill said he hoped they wouldn't let the guy escape while they made sure of Adam's information.
The agent, Calvin Maunder, spent some time going over the evidence of blackmail they had accumulated even though it didn't really affect his case against the Russian. The bureau decided to move against Howarth in the morning when his wife drove the little boy to school. As far as they knew, there were three men besides Howarth in the house. Maunder was reluctant to let Adam and Bill take part in the assault, but caved in when they reminded him that local charges of murder were pending against the man.
Chapter Twenty-Six
On Monday morning Anne was happily making plans to go home. She still wanted to have dinner with Adam and left a message after she had made a tentative reservation at Evan's. She was finishing her morning coffee, sitting in Catherine's kitchen, watching the raindrops coursing down the windowpanes when the phone rang.
"Anne, Thomas Beauchamp is on the line for you," Catherine called.
"Good morning, Anne."
"Good morning."
"Would you like to go to Burlington with me for lunch?"
"I'd love to, but I've just arranged to go to dinner with Adam Davidson. Would we be back in time?"
"Sure, we'll fly. You don't have any problem with small planes, I hope?"
"Oh, no. I love to fly."
"I'll pick you up around noon if that suits you."
"Perfect."
Anne hung up the phone smiling and told Catherine her plans.
Thomas' plane, a little two-seater painted a bright yellow, waited for them at the local airport. One landing strip, a ticket agent, and a drink machine served the commuter airline and a few private planes.
Thomas handed her into the passenger seat and buckled the belt for her. Thomas likes to look after women, she thought.
When they were halfway to Burlington, the rain stopped, and the drenched landscape below glowed bright green and gold in the sunshine. Anne had only been in the city once before, on her honeymoon, although she didn't share that with Thomas.
The university town had several trendy restaurants, but thinking Anne would prefer a slightly more casual place, Thomas led her through an alley, into the stone-paved courtyard of an old stable and up to the second floor. The high-ceilinged room, flooded with sunshine, delighted Anne.
"What a lovely spot, Thomas."
"The kitchen is good too. The chefs were doing Asian fusion here long before it became fashionable. Now the chef is moving back to more traditional American, but lighter than is usual
"Again ahead of the curve, I think."
Thomas and Anne talked on and on, lingering until Thomas said, "You're going back to Canada soon, I imagine?"
"Yes, tomorrow."
"I'd like to see you again. Could we meet in Toronto?"
"I'd love to. I have a small condominium on the waterfront. My husband and I used it for city vacations."
"How long has it been since your husband died?"
"Two years."
"And how are you?"
"Much better. The first year was hard, but I think I'm okay now. The grief sits much further down nowadays, and I moved on with my life. I loved him very much, Thomas."
Anne's eyes searched Thomas's face.
"As I loved my wife, but you do have to start to live again. Are you going back to work?"
"I don't think so. At least, not what I was doing. I may do some locums. Filling in for vacationing pediatricians," she said in reply to his quizzical look.
"I found work was engrossing and distracting. That helped," Thomas said.
"I was too distracted for my work. My practice involved emotionally upset children and I had difficulty maintaining my own equilibrium."
"I understand. I'll be in Toronto next week. Perhaps we could meet?"
"I'll give you my numbers," Anne said as she pulled out a business card and scribbled on the back. "I think we should be going, Thomas. It's almost three."
Thomas kissed her at Catherine's door. The first kiss since Michael had died. Later, when telling Catherine about her day, she said she felt delighted about the kiss. "No guilt, either. I am so happy about that, Catherine. I really can get on with my life now."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
An overcast Monday morning threatened rain. Perfect, Adam thought, they'd be doing this in a downpour. He and Pete checked out rifles and rain gear and drove to Burlington to the FBI field office. It was about 7:00 am when they parked next to Bill Perkins' truck.
The field office was in a newer office building, with a marble lobby, and a few tall potted plants near the entrance, their soil dotted with butts from the smokers who huddled around the door. Large men in full assault gear and two or three in the black raincoats familiar from television and movies crowded the office on the fourth floor. They moved in beside Bill at the back of the crowd listening to Maunder review their approach to the Howarth residence.
Bill leaned past Pete to whisper to Adam.
"We're going to be at the back of the pack, fellows."
"That suits me fine, Bill," Adam said. "I don't think the defenses are as limited as Maunder does. Are they sure the kid and his mother will be out of the house?"
"Yeah, they aren't going to move until they see them arrive at the school. Someone is going to detain the mother, so he says."
Maunder called an end to the briefing and told the men to wait in their vehicles until they got a call that the mother left the house. He pushed through the crowd towards Adam, shook his hand, and asked if he wanted to ride with the first vehicle.
"Not at all, Calvin, I want to be able to have a word with him afterwards."
"Sure, no problem. "
He gave Adam a pitying glance. The agent was pumped and didn't understand anyone who didn't want to be in on the assault.
The unmarked vehicles moved slowly down the quiet residential street. There were still kids on bicycles on their way to school and a few early morning walkers. As they got closer to their target, the police warned people to go back into their homes. At 8:30 am, the radios crackled and an officer with a bullhorn addressed the house.
"This is the FBI with a warrant for Pavel Howarth. The house is surrounded. Come out with your hands behind your heads and lie face down on the ground."
The rain pelted down and distant thunder rumbled but otherwise, silence and no movement visible inside the house. The waiting officers shifted, repositioned their weapons, checked sight-lines, anticipating the order to attack but Maunder patient.
"No action," he said into the radio connecting all the men.
Again the bullhorn roared out the command to surrender; again nothing.
Adam wondered if they were too late or if something he did the day before alerted the Russian.
Shots hit the ground in front of Maunder and his bullhorn. At the same time, Adam could hear gunfire from the back of the house. Adam and Pete were partway down the block across the street. From where he stood Adam could see the back corner of the garage. A figure crept along the wall of the garage and disappeared into the hedge on the neighbor
ing property. He yelled at Bill to tell Maunder someone was escaping to the east and at Pete to come with him and sprinted across the road.
He and Pete took opposite sides of the neighboring house. A woman appeared at the window, pointing into her backyard as she knocked at the glass to get his attention. Adam's hands motioned her down. A burst of gunfire and the splatter of bullets into the wall behind him told him his quarry saw her too. Shots came from the other side of the yard. Adam crept around a shrub that masked the corner of the building. The shooter's back was to him; his rifle aimed towards Pete.
"Hold it. Police."
The man spun around with a snarl, bringing his rifle up to shoot. Adam smashed his head with the stock of his gun. The shooter slumped to his knees and then to the ground, his wound pouring blood. Adam called for the paramedics.
"Is the bastard still alive, boss?"
"Yeah. Go check the house. He shot at a woman who was pointing him out to me."
"Silly bitch."
"Make sure she's okay."
Shots rang out behind him as he held the wound of the man on the ground. The Russian's chest moved, not much, but it moved. Adam got out of the way of the paramedics as they arrived, and ran across the road to Bill.
"We got the Russian, but I don't know if I killed him. I hit him pretty hard."
"Ruskis have hard heads. He'll live to face it."
Across the street, tear gas and the sounds of coughing from the people inside drifted from the windows of the house. The front door cracked open, and weapons came hurtling out. Two gagging men followed, doing their best to keep their hands behind their heads and their eyes clear enough to see. They fell to the ground, the agents cuffed them and pulled them to the waiting van. An ambulance drove away code four, with lights flashing and siren wailing.
Maunder strode across the road.
"Thought you only wanted to talk to him. I didn't know you wanted to club him to death," he said.
"Bastard was going to shoot Pete," Adam said. "Where the hell is he anyway? I sent him to check on the woman in the house."
As he spoke, Pete came out the front door and loped across the street.
"She was some scared, Adam. Her kitchen is a mess. Bullet holes everywhere. Did you get everybody?" he said to Maunder.
"Yeah, we did. Are you coming back to the office?" he asked Adam.
"No, We'll go back to Culver's Mills. I'll email you a report."
With that, Bill, Pete and Adam left. It was only 9:05am. It felt like tomorrow.
When they left Bill in Greenbank, he said, "Good job, but you took a big chance going into the guy's place by yourself the first time. Your man Brad couldn't have helped you if Howarth decided to kill you."
"I told him I was collecting for the Boys and Girls Club. He gave me a promise to donate 1,000 dollars."
"A thousand! I wonder if you can collect?" The sheriff drove off, chuckling.
Adam spent some time writing a report to send to Maunder. He covered the part he and Pete played in the morning's drama. He listened for the call he knew would come. In spite of Howarth's head injury, Maunder hoped to question him, and if not him, at least the two captured with him and the wife. The answers would go a long way, he hoped, in winding up his unsolved cases.
When Maunder called, he told Adam he could place Howarth at the scene of both Davis's murder and Lauder's, but not at Jennifer's. He still couldn't talk to Howarth, but the two thugs rolled over on him. The gun he carried had killed both men.
Adam thanked him and said he would call Bill. That left him with Jennifer. It was hard to believe two murderers were operating in their little town. On the other hand, if Howarth were a shooter, why would he crush her skull instead? The crime seemed unpremeditated, especially if the murder weapon was the carpet ball she had on her desk. He called Maunder back.
"Calvin, is there any way we can interview that guy soon?"
"I just got off the phone with his lawyer. The bastard is claiming diplomatic immunity."
"What? I thought he was wanted in Russia too.”
"That was before the change in government. The secret police are in power over there with Putin as president or whatever he is now. I figure Howarth was one of them. A lot of them turned to crime with glasnost. I think they're taking care of their own."
"Where does that leave us?"
"The lawyer said he would let his client talk to us, but he couldn't be charged with any crime. So we'll have to deport him."
"I want to talk to him about Jennifer Smith's murder."
"His alibi is good for that one. The lawyer said he was in a meeting with him and the executive council of the planning board that didn't break up until 2:00 am."
"Did it check out?"
"Yeah, it did."
"Thanks for doing that, Calvin. Talk to you later."
"No problem."
After he hung up, Adam sat with his head in his hands for a few long minutes before he called Bill Perkins to give him the news. Bill reminded him there were still blackmailing leads other than to Howarth to follow up and that a woman like Jennifer could have aroused homicidal feelings in a lot of people. And, Adam remembered, there was still the damn carpet ball. Where was it?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam was back in Burlington the next morning. Howarth waited for deportation, and Maunder brought him to the Bureau building for interviews. Adam took coffee in with him.
Howarth recognized Adam when the guard brought him into the windowless interview room.
"You, I should have known.”
His head was still bandaged where Adam had clubbed him.
"Look, Howarth, you're out from under on these murders because of the immunity thing, so it won't hurt you to give me a little information."
Adam passed a pack of cigarettes and a container of coffee to him.
"What's in it for me?"
Howarth squinted at him across the table.
"What could I do for you?"
"I need to make sure the woman and the kid are okay. She didn't have anything to do with my business. She's a good mother. She should keep the kid."
He stared across at Adam, his eyes red-rimmed. Adam heard that Russians were sentimental, but he hadn't expected this. He thought for a moment.
"I'll check up on them for you and try to make sure she keeps the boy. You didn't marry her?"
"No, I got a wife in Russia, but this one, she is special to me."
"So she won't be going to meet you."
"No."
"I'll see them tomorrow and call you."
"Good. Good. What do you want to know?"
The Russian relaxed as he sat back in his chair.
"First, did you kill Jennifer Smith?"
"That bitch. No, I didn't kill her. I am happy someone did. One hundred thousand dollars that pair took from me."
Adam wondered why such a violent guy didn't kill her long ago.
"Why did you pay?"
"She and that snake Davis said that they had information that would be mailed to the feds if one of them died, some kind of immigration record. After she died, I sent Lauder and another guy to look for it. They found nothing. Nothing. Davis called—more money, or he would make sure they knew where I was. He thought I killed her too. So I killed the creep. I figured—why leave a loose end—and saw Lauder. He was in a panic. You know the rest."
"How did you hear that she was dead?"
"Davis called me."
"What about the third guy?"
"Gone."
"Was she blackmailing any other wiseguys that you heard of?"
"No."
Howarth stretched, yawned, and lit one of the cigarettes.
"She was a mean, nasty bitch," he went on. "She boasted everyone from rich men to poor grandmothers were on her list and they all paid. Is that all?"
"That's all."
Adam knocked on the door for the guard and Howarth strutted away, down the corridor. The desk clerk told Adam they released the woma
n to go home. No one knew what happened to the kid. Child protection, they thought.
The suburban neighborhood where Howarth lived looked back to normal, except for the yellow tape, tattered and snapping in the wind. The few onlookers stared as he turned into the driveway. Pockmarks from bullet holes dotted the front of the house and plastic covered the windows. Maybe Howarth's construction crews could get over here and fix them before the company wound down, he thought.
The doorbell ringing brought the small blonde woman. This time she spoke to him through the crack in the door.
"What do you want?"
"I'm Lieutenant Davidson, Mrs. Howarth. I came last week. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I remember. Paul called and told me I should talk to you."
"May I come in?"
She opened the door and let him into the front foyer. The gun battle and the teargas grenades made quite a mess. The little boy sat the top of the stairs. His mother saw him too.
"Go to your room, Paulie."
"Then you didn't have any trouble getting him back? Paul wanted me to check."
"No. They want to supervise for a while. I don't care. I'm not going anywhere."
"Will you be okay for money to live and repair the house?"
"I'm selling the house as soon as I can. It belongs to me, and it's all paid for. As long as the government doesn't try to take it from me, there'll be enough for us to live on if I'm careful."
"What's your name?"
"Karen.”
"You don't want to go to Russia?"
They sat in the huge over-decorated room where he had talked to Howarth. She turned her head away as her eyes filled with tears.
"I can't go there. He has a wife there, and I want little Paul to grow up here where he belongs. He is an American child. His father wants him to be an American child, too."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, just tell Paul that we are okay."
"I'll do that."
Adam shook her hand, but she didn't get up, and he left her with her face in her hands and her shoulders shaking. He let himself out.
Murderous Roots Page 14
