Sally had no migraine pills.
I checked through the bathroom, in every cabinet, drawer, and behind the mirror, and only found a mashed up tube of Colgate, two toothbrushes, and a man’s razor. I assumed Frank was accustomed to spending the night.
I looked in the mirror. I could see lumps on my head, which now felt like jackhammers cracking the bone and rattling what lay underneath. Most of my head and face was swelling up. My eyes were blackened and bloodshot. My forehead had dried blood smeared from the cut above my left eye. I looked like I got the life beat out of me. But right then I was Sally’s and Palo’s only hope.
I shrugged aside my headache and walked for her bedroom. I stepped over the bloody paperwork and went to the gun cabinet. I grabbed a Glock and a box of loose shells. I counted thirty rounds. I would have felt better with more, but it would have to do. I loaded the clip then stuck the gun in the sweatshirt’s hand warmer pocket. I loaded the 12 gauge with buckshot and carried it out of the room, stepping over the small speckles of red in the white carpet.
I was on my way back to the kitchen when I heard the crunching of broken glass from near the garage door.
I wasn’t alone.
With the shotgun in hand, I walked slowly to the front door when I heard Frank’s deep voice. “What the hell happened here? Where’s Sally?”
I turned. Frank was standing by the door leading in from the garage. He was holding a huge .45 magnum. He didn’t look happy to see me.
“They took her,” I said quickly.
“Who?” Frank stepped closer to me, keeping his cannon drawn. “When?”
“The Russians. Early this morning.”
I walked over to the table and slumped down into a chair. I could have fallen asleep if I hadn’t been so hungry. I set my gun on the table. Frank moved closer. He stood beside me, looking down with a very serious look.
“You better fill me in.”
So I did. I left nothing out. When I was finished, he sat next to me. “I would love to put a few knots in your head, but it looks like someone beat me to it.”
“I am going to get her back. You can either stay here or you can lend me a hand.” I gave him a hard look. But all he did was look amused.
“Don’t give me that look. I can’t take that look serious.” Frank smirked. “What’s the game plan?”
“I don’t know exactly where they are being held. Someplace in the Red Square though. A building, heavily guarded with a security fence.”
Frank sighed. “Well that narrows it down to just about the whole damn place. What else you got?”
I sat back for a second and tried to think. All I could smell was bacon. The pan was still on the stove, the bacon grease formed into a thick goo. “I was told that they were going to be picked up at midnight by a Russian named Vladimir flying in from Moscow. Maybe we could track down flights arriving today? Find him, track him down and find them.”
“I can make a call and get someone looking into that. In the meantime, why don’t we take a drive and see if anything looks familiar. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Frank stood up. “I love her.”
I nodded. “She knows, Frank.”
He turned and walked back to the garage door. I stood, grabbed the shotgun, a banana off the counter, and followed, wincing in pain.
I was too messed up to drive. I kept waiting for my peripheral vision to close in and the white light to be the last thing I saw.
Frank drove a big Ford Raptor with a lift kit. It was black, inside and out, with a moon roof and navigation. The tire tread gave me the impression that he wanted to drive up a tree. The seats were leather, the interior was spotless.
We drove around the Red Square looking for something resembling what I had pictured in my mind to be the place I had been before. Wishful thinking at best. We found all sorts of businesses and all sorts of dead ends. There were plenty of buildings with chain fences. But there was no traffic. It was Saturday afternoon and no one was working. Empty parking lots were abundant. I didn’t see any black Rolls, or any white Phantoms. It was hopeless.
After two hours of driving in circles, Frank said, “We need gas. You hungry?”
I was half dead. “I could eat.”
Frank pulled into a gas station and filled up. We then hit up a burger joint outside of the Red Square. We ordered burgers and ate them inside the Raptor. Frank was a quiet guy. The strong silent type, I figured. The type of guy that didn’t talk to anyone he didn’t like.
The last two hours were real quiet.
“My guy will be heading into work in an hour. I’ll make the call and he’ll get us a passenger list on the flight in from Moscow.” He took the biggest bite I ever saw, chewed a second, then said, “Let’s head back to Sally’s and get you some sleep. You don’t look so well. I don’t want you dying in my truck.”
He almost sounded genuinely concerned. I said nothing in rebuttal. We were doing nothing but waiting. And I felt as good as I looked. My head needed a helmet of ice.
“How’s Belsay?” I said.
“He needs to be in the hospital. Like you.”
I thought maybe Frank just didn’t want him dying in his truck.
I tucked myself into the guest bed again at a quarter to five. The pillow smelled like Palo. I found a fan in the closet and turned it on high speed. The sound drown out the deep silence shrouding the house. I had a packet of ice wrapped up in a towel across my head. Frank was someplace in the garage. He said something about fixing the side door of the garage. It was how Jeff Dimeglio had gained access. He had punched through the small glass squares, reached in and unlocked the door, then went through the garage to enter into Sally’s house. We figured that Sally was in the shower at that time and didn’t hear anything.
I quit thinking then. I heard Frank’s voice talking in the living room. He was making the call. I tried to hear what he was saying, but I fell asleep instead.
Frank’s hand woke me. I opened my eyes and noticed right away that it was dark out. I sat upright, alert and ready. Frank backed away gently.
“You are not getting any more sleep until you are dead.”
“What time is it?”
Frank said, “’Bout nine.”
“I slept for too long, Frank.” I was discombobulated. “We’re wasting time.”
“Plane doesn’t land until ten. You needed the rest so you can make better decisions later. I need you to think more like a cop and less like you.”
He walked out of the room. I got up and followed him, brushing the sleep from my eyes. I felt better. I could have used a shower, but that could wait. I had a feeling that I wasn’t done getting dirty.
Frank polished his badge then stuffed it into his jeans pocket. “My man called a few minutes ago. There’s a cargo plane coming in from Moscow.”
“It has to be Vladimir. Let’s go.”
“One thing.” Frank met my gaze and held it. “Belsay called. I told him everything. He’s renting a car. He’ll meet us at the airport.” I gave him a concerned look that he blew off right away. “Belsay is her brother. I couldn’t ask him to stay away. Plus there’s not a lot of men on the force I can trust. Russians control most of them in one way or another. We’ll need all the help we can get.”
I was only hesitant with feeling responsible for another life. Belsay had once almost lost his head because of me. But I understood and thought that maybe one more good guy wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
“Agreed.”
“You didn’t have a choice.”
Frank’s presence was comforting, in spite of the hard looks and his general disdain for me. He was calm and collective. He had the skills of a good cop. He was probably known for making right decisions too. He was a good man for Sally. “Let’s go get our women.”
Frank grunted something to himself and turned for the door with his giant gun in hand. I said, “And I’m driving.”
He turned back quick. “No way. I wouldn’t even fit in that relic.”
I grab
bed the shotgun. “That relic is fast and we don’t have time to argue. I’m driving, Frank.”
I walked past him, out the front door, to old reliable. The door shut behind me and I could hear more muttering.
At the airport, it didn’t take us long to find Belsay. I parked the car then Frank and I tucked our handguns out of sight. I carried the shotgun close to my right thigh as we began walking for the building, and there he was. He stuck out for a few reasons. One was the white medical wrap around his head. He looked like a walking Q-tip. Another reason was that Belsay saw us first and was flailing his arms and yelling. Another reason was he had his gun and badge drawn, moving a scrawny man towards us.
Frank and I shared the same is this legal? look. We walked faster. We reached Belsay and he began rambling on, nearly tripping over his words.
“I got the sun of a bitch! Look at him!” Belsay shoved the guy, who didn’t weight a buck-ten in concrete boots, closer to us. The guy was young and scared. He wore a black Adidas windbreaker and matching running pants with thick black combat-style boots. His forehead was high and his chin was blocky.
“Who is this?” Frank said.
“The plane landed an hour ago. When I found it, he was the only one on it. The snake tried to talk his way out of it, but he ain’t going nowhere.”
The Russian spoke something nervously and quick. It wasn’t English.
Belsay’s smile disappeared as he looked to Frank, who in turn looked at me. I said, “He said he’s just the pilot.”
Belsay shoved his pistol into the pilot’s ribcage. “Pilot or not, he ain’t going nowhere.”
“Frank, we need to find out where everyone is. I’ll ask him some questions, but we should check out the plane, too.”
Frank nodded. Belsay added, “It ain’t no plane. It’s a friggen house with wings.”
“Take us there,” Frank said to Belsay.
We began walking around the side of the terminal closest to us, heading for one of the hangars. I walked close to the Russian and started questioning him in Russian. His responses were short and nervous. I believed him.
Frank looked at me and said, “Well?”
“Well, the pilot says they arrived an hour ago and the others left. He was told to stay with the plane. Said they be back after midnight. He said there are a dozen of them.”
We went silent then. A daunting task to begin with, now undoubtedly outnumbered. A sense that time was slipping away faster than we could catch it settled in quick. I began to grow nervous. My stomach began to churn. We all walked faster.
We rounded a hangar and saw it. It was a massive cargo plane. It was made to carry more than just people. This thing could carry tanks and maybe other jets. It was a shiny blue color. It was probably packed with expensive bottles of flavored vodka.
“Told you it wasn’t a friggen plane.” Belsay smiled.
A retractable set of stairs slanted down from an open door near the nose. We walked up the steps and inside. It was big. There were two dozen leather seats right away. After that it was empty. Maybe thirty yards of empty.
“Makes you wonder what the guy shipped over here,” Belsay said.
I asked the Russian, but he said they were picking up something. I didn’t understand what, aside from the women. Then I asked him where his friends went. He said they left in a red van. That was all he knew. It was ten o’clock.
I exited the plane and stood on the black pavement staring skyward, thinking. Which wasn’t easy. My head felt like it spent an hour in a blender. The others followed me. We stood together looking around, searching for answers we didn’t have yet. There were no flights circling or landing, nothing taking off. It was quiet. I’d rather it have been really busy.
I turned to Belsay. “Stay here with the plane.”
“No friggen way! I ain’t being left behind. Tell him, Frank.” Belsay grew anxious.
“Listen, we need to have someone here. This is the only place we know for sure that the Russians will be with the women. If Frank and I can’t find them, or something goes wrong, at least we’ll have this end covered.” I offered the shotgun to Belsay.
Belsay thought about it for a second then took the 12 gauge. “I got your backs.”
“I know you do,” I said. He looked ridiculous with his head wrapped, trying to look mean and serious. I looked away to Frank. “We need to get moving.”
“Where to?”
My eyes roamed the sky casually. “We’ll figure it out.”
Frank turned to Belsay and motioned to the pilot. “Get him back to the plane and tie him down. Hang tight. We’ll see you around midnight, Belsay.”
“Don’t worry about me, Frank.” Belsay gave a nod, then marched the pilot back up into the plane.
I said to Frank, “Time to go.”
Chapter 22
The Hitman: Dirty Rotters Page 21
