“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” the captain said, after we were seated. “You both know Detective Blaylock.”
We nodded.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why the urgent call,” the captain continued. “I’ll come right to the point. Alexi Smirnoff is still alive, but it’s touch and go. I have no doubt the Russians are aware of this, and I also have no doubt that they will make another attempt at his life to keep him from testifying.
“His testimony is our best chance to put the Russians out of business, so we have to do everything possible to keep him alive.”
“So why do you need us?” I asked, somewhat confused. “I’m guessing he’s in the hospital with armed guards outside his door.”
“That’s correct, but we believe we need an extra layer of protection. If you recall, there was an armed guard outside his room at the Marriott and they still found a way in. We believe the best way to insure his safety is to have a decoy in the room where he is supposed to be. We will have Alexi sequestered in another wing of the hospital.”
The moment the captain said ‘decoy’, I knew why Kevin and I had been summoned. Kevin had figured it out as well.
“Decoy! Don’t you mean bait! Your plan is to have us staked out like a couple of sacrificial lambs?”
“It’s not like that,” the captain replied. “You are both quite capable of taking care of yourselves. That’s why we called you. Plus, there will still be an armed guard outside your room.”
“Why us?” I asked. “Why not just use a couple of your regular cops?”
“It’s a manpower thing,” Blaylock replied. “We’ll already have two men in the hospital, one guarding you and the other guarding Alexi. We can’t spare two more officers off the job just to lay there in bed.”
“So how would this work?” I asked.
“The only person at the hospital who will know you’re not Alexi will be the doctor who’s treating him. All of the nurses and orderlies will think they’re treating Alexi.”
“How can that be? Neither of us look like Alexi, and we certainly don’t look like each other.”
“Due to the injuries sustained in the wreck, your heads will be covered with bandages. You will have an oxygen mask over your face. No one will be able to know you’re not Alexi.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Kevin asked. “Just lay there in bed all day pretending to be in a coma? I have trouble sitting still for fifteen minutes. I can’t imagine laying there for hours at a time.”
“We’ve thought of that,” the captain replied. “There will be a curtain pulled around your bed so no one can see you from the hall. You can have a book or iPad to pass the time. Just slip it under the covers when someone comes in. With the exception of the doctor, every time anyone else enters the room, they will have to be searched and approved by the guard. He will push a button alerting you that someone is coming in. That way you will have time to assume your role as a coma patient.”
“You will have to have a catheter inserted,” Blaylock said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Like hell we will!” we both said in unison.
“He’s pulling your chain,” the captain said. “We figured eight-hour shifts.”
“Pretty cushy gig,” Blaylock said. “Getting paid for laying in bed all day. Plus, you can have as much green Jell-O as you want.”
Blaylock was having way too much fun with this.
“But not near enough pay for being the target of a Russian assassin!” Kevin said.
Kevin volunteered for the first shift which was fine with me. That meant the bulk of my shift would be at night when I’m usually half comatose anyway.
I reported to the hospital a few minutes before eight. The doctor was waiting for me in the room. He had just removed the bandages from Kevin’s head.
“You’re gonna love peeing in that bag,” Kevin said, pointing to a bag hanging on the side of the bed. Alexi would indeed have a catheter and they had to make it look like we had one too.
“Here’s how it works,” the doctor said. “I have given specific instructions to the nurses. The guard outside has a list of those instructions. If anyone shows up to do a procedure that’s not on the list, he will be alerted. Time to install your IV Mr. Williams.”
“You’re really going to stick me with one of those things?”
“No,” he said, smiling, “I said install, not inject. Alexi has an IV, so you have to have one too. Yours will be taped on, and there will be a tube attached leading to another bag under your bed. When the nurses have to replace the bags, they won’t know the difference. Any other injections through the attached port will be collected in a small vial taped to your arm.
“I will have to hook you up to the heart monitor. All that involves is attaching a couple of leads to your chest. It may be a bit awkward, but it won’t hurt. Any questions?”
It seemed like they had thought of everything. “No, I guess not.”
“Good! Then let’s get you taped up and hooked up.”
“I’m out of here,” Kevin said. “See you in eight hours.”
After the doc finished with my bandages, I looked in the mirror. I looked like Boris Karloff in The Mummy.
The doctor pointed to a light. “When this little blue light comes on, that means someone is coming into your room. Be sure to have your oxygen mask on and lie very still under the blankets. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. Can I get you anything? Green Jell-O?”
The doc was obviously coached by Blaylock.
“No, I’ll pass.”
After he left and I settled into bed, I remembered seeing the candy-stripper in the lobby. That brought back memories of my previous undercover gigs. I actually had been dressed as a candy-stripper in one. Most recently, Kevin and I impersonated two doctors fresh out of surgery, wanting a breath of fresh air on the hospital roof. We were actually looking for a sniper who was planning to assassinate the president.
Another time, I impersonated a dying man when we were setting up a sting to catch a new Dr. Death practicing euthanasia in Kansas City. Then there was the time I got to be a corpse and spent a few grueling hours in a body bag when we were after an organ trading ring.
Now, if I live though this, I will be able to add coma patient to my résumé.
I had been down about twenty minutes when I saw the blue light go on. I slipped on my oxygen mask, crawled under the covers, and laid perfectly still.
A nurse came in a few minutes later. She took my blood pressure, and I squinted just enough to see her check my pee bag, heart monitor, and saline drip. Seeming satisfied, she patted my foot and left.
Pretty cool, I thought. This was the first time doing an undercover gig that I was actually under the covers!
Sometime later, another nurse came in and repeated the procedure. She had just started when I had a very uncomfortable sensation. My nose was itching like crazy. It took all my willpower not to reach up and scratch. The next five minutes seemed like an eternity. As soon as she was gone, I ripped off my mask and scratched. It felt like heaven.
Sometime during the middle of the night, the doctor returned as promised, waking me up.
“You doing okay?”
“Well, I was asleep. Why is it that you people come in all hours of the night? I remember when I was in the hospital, they would wake me up to give me my sleeping pills.”
“We just do that to piss you off,” he replied, smiling.
A rare doctor with a sense of humor.
It was maybe fifteen minutes later, I hadn’t gone back to sleep yet, when I saw the little blue light go on.
A nurse entered and I expected her to do the same as the others, check blood pressure, saline bag, etc. But she didn’t. I squinted just enough to see her pull a syringe out of her pocket. She didn’t even bother to give it the little squirt to make sure there were no air bubbles. She reached for my arm, injected the syringe into the port, and I could feel the warm liquid running into the
tube taped to my arm.
Immediately, I thought about a case I was on a few years ago. A man was sneaking into the cardiac ward of the hospital, and injecting potassium chloride into the ports of the sleeping patients. The drug is very difficult to detect and it’s very effective in stopping the heart. It was simply assumed that another poor soul had died of heart failure in his sleep.
She slipped the syringe into her pocket and headed for the door. That’s when I heard the officer outside say, “Hold it right there! Put your hands in the air.”
There was a brief hesitation, then a moment later I was horrified when the curtain hiding my bed was ripped away, and I saw the nurse poised above me, a sharp scalpel in her hand.
“You will not live to testify,” she said, menacingly.
I tried to protect myself, but the woman was strong as an Ox and I got all tangled up in my monitor wires. I deflected the first blow, but I was no match for her. She was about to lunge again when I heard the shot.
The nurse flinched, then fell across the bed on top of me.
The Russians had tried again and failed. Alexi was still alive.
CHAPTER 16
My suspicions were correct. The nurse had injected potassium chloride into my port. Thankfully, the officer outside my door had checked the list the doctor had given him and realized this was an unauthorized visit.
The nurse was identified as Natasha Baburin, Russian, of course.
After a lengthy conference, the powers that be decided to issue a press release stating that a successful attempt was made on the life of Alexi Smirnoff. The assailant was dispatched, but not before ending the life of the state’s witness.
They hoped that the Russians, believing that Natasha had been successful, would make no further attempts on Alexi’s life.
I, for one, was glad to be finished with the whole affair. As far as I was concerned, it was time to get back to my boring life, taking photos of cheating husbands. I hoped I’d heard the last of the Russian mob.
After Natasha left on her assignment, Viktor was eager to hear what Ivan had in mind for him next.
“We have a new shipment of women coming from Kazakhstan,” Ivan said. “We need a place for them to ply their trade. The best corners are along Independence Avenue, Troost, and Prospect. Unfortunately, those streets are now occupied by the blacks. Your new assignment is to encourage these ladies to move to the east, beyond Prospect. Use diplomacy at first, but if that doesn’t work, do whatever it takes. Am I clear?”
“Clear as a bell.”
“That’s him,” Lakisha said, “the man talking to Francie. He’s the one who told me to move from my corner. I told him I’d been working that corner for five years and wasn’t about to move. That’s when he grabbed my arm and told me I could either move myself or someone would be moving me in a pine box.”
“Are you sure that was the guy?” Charlene asked. “I know him. That’s Walt Williams. Willie Duncan works for him, and he’s a friend of Louie’s.”
“That’s him all right. See! He just grabbed Lakisha’s arm. Looks like he’s doing the same thing to her as he did to me.”
“Time for a talk with Louie,” Charlene said. “Let’s go.”
After my harrowing experience as a coma patient, all I wanted to do was take it easy and recharge my seventy-five-year-old batteries. But it was not to be.
I had just crawled out of bed when there was a knock on the door. It was Willie.
“Mornin’ Mr. Walt. Looks like you was sleepin’ in.”
“I was, but I’m up now. What can I do for you?”
“I jus’ got a call from Louie. He wants to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Don’t know for sure. All he said was that it was somethin’ really important.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“Don’t think so. Louie’s usually a pretty cool guy, but this mornin’ he sounded all riled up.”
“Okay, let me get dressed and a cup of coffee and we’ll go.”
Before coming to work for me, my friend Willie was a con man working the Kansas City streets. Louie the Lip was in the same line of work. Willie gave up the life, but not Louie. Over the years, Willie and Louie stayed in touch. Willie introduced me to his old friend, and when I joined the force, he became an informant of sorts. Although he was operating on the other side of the law, he was old school. There were certain lines of morality he would not cross. When he saw young punks or gang members violating his sense of morality, he was more than eager to help us put them behind bars. On more than one occasion, Louie had actually saved my life. I owed him.
Willie said that Louie was still hanging out at the Blue Moon Bar and Grill, so we climbed into the car and headed that way.
When we stepped into the dimly lit bar, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I found myself staring up into the eyes of a six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound giant. He didn’t seem particularly happy to see me.
“Dis way,” he said, pointing. “Louie’s in his office.”
Louie’s office was a table in the far back corner of the bar. He had conducted his business from that table for years. Low overhead.
When I arrived at the table, I was surprised to see Charlene sitting beside Louie. Charlene was a lady of the evening, and a good friend of Willie’s. Over the years she had helped us on some cases and actually had Thanksgiving dinner with us a few years ago.
Willie and Louie did the hand-slap, arm-bump thing that cools guys do. I never could master it, so Louie always shook my hand. This time, when I extended my hand, he ignored it.
“Sit down!” he ordered.
I sat, wondering about the cool reception.
“Who you workin’ for?” he asked.
I was confused. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. You know that Kevin and I are doing the private investigator thing.”
“Then who are you working for?” he asked again.
“Right now, no one. We’re between gigs.”
“That’s not what Charlene says. Tell him, sugar.”
“I saw you last night talkin’ to Francie, and Lakisha said you talked to her the night before. They said you ordered them off their corners and threatened them if they didn’t leave.”
“I did no such thing!” I replied, indignantly. Then it dawned on me. “Damn it! He’s done it again.”
I pulled out my cell phone and showed Charlene the photo of Viktor Kozlov. “Is that who you saw?”
She nodded.
“That’s not me.”
Louie grabbed the phone. “Sure looks like you.”
“I know, but it’s not. The guy’s name is Viktor Kozlov. He’s a Russian hired gun that the mob imported from New York. You’re not the first one who thinks it’s me.”
“I’m glad it isn’t you, Walt,” Louie said, handing my phone back. “It didn’t make no sense, but now it does, and it ain’t good. Looks like the Russian mob is tryin’ to move into our territory.”
“He’s just an old dude like me,” I replied. “Why not just have that big hunk of beef that met me at the door take care of him?”
“Cause we don’t want no war with the Russian mob. It’s not good for business. People don’t spend money when there’s bullets flyin’ everywhere.”
“That’s exactly what Carmine Marchetti said.”
“Carmine’s an all right guy,” Louie replied. “He’s a smart businessman. We don’t want a war with the Italians and they don’t want a war with the brothers. We have an understanding. They don’t go into our territory and we don’t go into theirs. There’s plenty of business for both of us. The Russians are different. They think they can muscle in and take whatever they want.”
“Then why not team up with Marchetti? Work together to take out the Russians?”
“You’re still talkin’ about an all-out war. Good people getting’ shot. Good people dying.”
“Maybe there’s another way,” I said. “They’re obv
iously driving Charlene and the other girls away so their own women can work the best corners. What do you know about their girls?”
“It ain’t the same. Our girls are independent. They can come and go as they please. They can quit anytime somethin’ better comes along.”
I remembered Carmine saying the same thing about his girls. They were well compensated and free to leave at any time.
“From what I hear,” Louie continued, “The Russians import their women from Eastern Europe. They’re sex slaves. They do what the mob says or they disappear.”
“That’s what I thought. I might have a way to get their girls off the street. I’ll let you know.”
I dropped Willie at the apartment and headed to the precinct. I had an idea and I wanted to run it by Harley Davis, the captain of the vice unit.
“Walt! Good to see you. What brings you downtown?”
“It’s --- uhhh --- kind of a delicate matter. I know your unit works prostitution cases. You have decoys working to catch johns, and I read about you shutting down human trafficking rings.”
“Yeah, so?”
“I also know that the Italian mob and the Afro-American community have women working the streets.”
He sighed. “I’m well aware of that. We only have so much manpower. We can’t be everywhere. We try to take out the worst offenders.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. Are you aware that the Russian mob is trying to establish their presence in Kansas City?”
“Of course I know. We’ve been working with the organized crime unit. Those Ruskies are a nasty bunch.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’ve had conversations with Carmine Marchetti and members of the black community. The Russians are definitely here. Let me show you.”
I handed him my cell phone with Kozlov’s photo.
“This looks like you.”
“I know it does, but it isn’t me. The guy’s name is Viktor Kozlov. The mob imported him from New York. Most recently, he has been threatening the women working Independence Avenue, Prospect and Troost. The mob wants those corners for their women who are most likely sex slaves.”
Lady Justice and the Evil Twin Page 8
