by John Charles
But it didn’t stop there. Ghostface wanted to entertain—hence the reason for the very public kills. He wanted to put on a show for the people, like a page out of the Roman Empire. Ghostface intended to give the people what they truly wanted: blood.
He had moved beyond communicating only with law enforcement. He was talking to the bigger audience, the general public. It was his version of street art.
This told Sokolov that Ghostface did not view law enforcement as a threat. To this date, Ghostface had avoided any sort of run-in with the law. But ask anyone in the Eastern European law enforcement and they’ll say he is highly trained in the art of combat, especially hand-to-hand—an expert killer. Depending on how you look at it, a sloppy kill might really be an attempt at extravagance. Stupid kills, Sokolov thought. That’s how they all get caught.
A text came through on his phone: “Got it. I’ll see what I can dig up.” A few seconds later his phone lit up again: “Ghostface—I might have a description.”
Sokolov nearly jumped out of his seat. A description. It couldn’t be, but he hoped so. He had never actually met the man on the other end of the phone. They were introduced via e-mail, through an old contact, and even then it took a series of various e-mails before information passed between the two. Now all contact was made via text messages, with the contact getting a new cell number every other week. It was completely untraceable; Sokolov had tried. So far, the information was thorough, making the contact extremely valuable. He assumed it was some person at Interpol who just wanted to help, but was not authorized to hand off so much classified information.
“When? Where?” Sokolov texted back.
A few seconds passed by before his phone beeped. “Waiting on my source. Soon.”
51
After the weekend, I still felt uneasy about Viktor’s sudden reappearance. It’s not something I had anticipated. As far as I was concerned, that part of the story had come to an end, but it was if my life was destined to be one big plot twist.
My lack of protection didn’t help to make the situation any better. Basically, I was told not to worry because Viktor can’t be concerned about me. And if he were, he couldn’t travel to the States anyway. From where I was sitting, this was the equivalent of waving off the whole situation like someone farted.
I managed to drag my butt into the office thinking it might be a good way to keep my mind off of the Viktor thing. I was halfway through my first cup of coffee when I received a call from Sokolov.
“Darby, I spent time getting up to speed on Viktor. He’s a dangerous man.”
The verdict’s already in on that, Detective.
“But I don’t think he will come for you. Most criminals, they want to get the money flowing again. That will be his priority.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“That makes two of us.”
Not what I wanted to hear, but I knew what he meant.
“I have a contact in Europe looking into the investigation. If Viktor makes a move, we will know.”
“Thanks for your help, Detective.”
“Call me anytime.”
I felt marginally better after our conversation, if I tried really hard. You can’t blame me though. This Viktor guy was hardcore, dangerous, and probably never heard of the word “remorse.” I was going to have to look out for myself. No doubt about that.
I peeked out into the hallway, expecting another slow day at the office. It was abnormally quiet. Seemed like a lot of the heavy-hitters at my end of the hall were out. I was alone in my office. I actually missed sharing space with Tav. We had made really good cubicle mates. It was so easy to turn around and lay it all out for Tav’s take. He always took the high road. I needed that from him. Sometimes I wished I were more like him.
I opened up my personal laptop and looked at the pictures I took on my trip; almost all of them were from the time I had spent with Tatiana. She was an incredibly beautiful woman. I still couldn’t believe she was gone. Man, this is so not what I should be doing right now. It was only making me more depressed about my life. I felt lonely. And paranoid. I needed to get my mind off of this.
There was a knock at my door.
“Hey, fucktard.”
It was the village idiot, Harold. I wondered what the stump wanted. “I’m busy.”
“Yeah, doesn’t look like it,” he said.
“Well, if you stop squinting like a sphincter and open your eyes, you might be able to tell.”
“Just saw last month’s sales figures. You barely made your numbers.”
“But I did and that’s all that matters.”
“Look, you may have everyone else around here buying your stories about your clients, but not me. There’s something going on and I’m going to figure it out.”
I snorted. “Just so you know, the solution involves using addition and subtraction.”
“Joke all you want, but one slip in sales is all it will take for you to find yourself back down in bottom-feeder land. My domain.”
Harold was right. The Odessa gang was cautious with their orders and with a lot of my recommendations. Even though the product was all but free to them during my consultation period, they would only implement my suggestions one at a time. I wasn’t about to place an order for product that would sit around unused. The good news was they had strong weekly sales that could easily be attributed to Teleco product. So I expected they’ll be more open to trying new things, which meant more product and thus, more orders. I needed to push them harder.
I pointed toward the door. “Look, small balls, do yourself a favor. Take your hippo physique and waddle back out of my office.” I should have ended it there, but as usual, I didn’t. “Oh, did you hear about the other news…?”
“What?”
“How I’m dating Hillary. Yeah, that’s right. We’re an item. While I’m getting busy with her, you can go ahead and get to third base with yourself.”
“Very funny. Ha ha. You think you have a shot with Hillary? Delusional at best.”
“I guess we’ll just have to see how this plays out.”
“You think you’re God Almighty, don’t you?”
“Ask around. We had dinner the other night. Now get. I got work to do. Shoo, fly, shoo!”
Harold split in a huff. I knew his next move would be to find out the legitimacy of my date with Hillary.
Screwing with Harold always made me feel better. Even though he was doing everything he could to undermine my heavy-hitter status and I was obviously winning on the Hillary angle, my concerns about Viktor remained front and center in my thoughts. It was time to take a more proactive role in my safety. I called Ivan Renko.
52
Harold muttered to himself as he made his way back to his office on the sixth floor. He knew Darby had smartened up about the way he worked at the office. He no longer used the company computer to do his work, so Harold had no way to monitor his Internet habits or to hack into his files. It was getting harder and harder to mess with his job—even more so now that he was up on the twelfth floor. Harold figured if he couldn’t screw him on the job front, he’d screw with his personal life. That’s why he had plans to spend lunch in the Inner Richmond, and Elana’s Travels was on the menu.
It was nearly noon when Harold arrived at the travel agency. He took a quick look around and couldn’t understand what Darby was doing in this neighborhood to begin with. Everything was in Russian. It didn’t make sense.
Inside the travel agency, Harold was greeted with thick cigarette smoke and a raspy voice. “Hello, hello. You are interested in trip? Please come and sit.”
“Uh, yeah. Hi. I need some information.”
“Yes, tell Elana about your dream vacation and I make it happen.”
Harold took out the flier and placed it on Elana’s desk. “Tell me more about that.”
“Ahh, you like Russian women, huh? Very beautiful.”
Harold nodded like a schoolboy. “What happens on these trips? Do I pick on
e and do what I want?”
“Pick one? This is not sexy tour like in Bangkok,” Elana shot back. “This is social engagement. I am not sex tour operator.”
“No, no, of course not.” Harold realized he needed to neutralize the situation. “A friend of mine told me he had a nice time on the trip: Darby Stansfield. Does the name ring a bell?”
“Oh, yes, Darby. Nice man. Very popular with girls over there. They all like him.” She paused and took a long drag. “You are friends?”
“Uh, yeah. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Elana wasn’t buying it. From what she knew of Darby, she just couldn’t picture him hanging out with this man. He fit the mold of her typical client: pathetic, overweight, older. Probably a chronic masturbator; virgin most likely. Darby was a breath of fresh air for these women. “What’s your name?”
“Harold.”
“Okay, Harold, you want to take tour? I have one leaving in a few days, to Odessa, Ukraine. Lots of lovely women. All looking for strong, handsome man like you.”
“Is this one similar to the one Darby took?”
“They all the same, just different girls.”
“You think these women will like me?”
“Sure. You look like you train in the gym. You dress nice, probably make good money.”
Harold got a little giddy at that. “I have Soloflex. I think it’s working. Also, I’m a manager at Teleco, the big wireless communication company.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it. Very good company.” Elana rubbed her thumb and finger together and winked, letting Harold know she knew his financial situation was secure. “Trip is only $2,500. Airfare separate. You pay now?”
“$2,500? It’s a little high.”
“This is vacation. You cannot afford?”
Harold couldn’t believe Darby spent so much money. How can he afford shit like this?
“Was Darby’s trip this much?”
“More or less.”
Damn, that’s expensive, Harold thought. But the more he learned about the tours, the more he really wanted to go. His goal was to get info on Darby. But he was so horny and the thought of these young women wanting him was extremely appealing.
“Trips are booking fast. You must make decision.” Elana gave Harold a few more fliers touting the women. “Look at them. How can you pass?”
“I haven’t passed, I just…”
“What? You make good money, no?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
“Which lady you like?”
“I like Yulia,” Harold said as he pointed at a blond.
“Done. I personally make sure Yulia is at social. I need decision now.” Elana exhaled a plume of smoke toward Harold, signaling that her patience had long ago run out.
Harold looked at all the fliers filled with half-naked hotties and got a hard on. “Okay.”
Five minutes later, Harold left Elana’s Travels booked on a trip to Ukraine.
Elana stabbed her cigarette butt into the ashtray and picked up the Minsk newspaper from her desk. She knew the brunette featured on the front page. Elana could always count on her to attend the socials even though she wasn’t that interested in a foreign man. Elana had long hoped she would meet a nice man, get married, and have a better life. And she did meet someone. She had met Darby Stansfield. And now Tatiana was dead.
53
Calling Ivan for help wasn’t exactly new territory for me. I’ve asked my clients for help in the past. It’s not something I think I want to make a habit of, but at times street justice is the only option available.
“Darby, what so important you can’t tell me on the phone? You sell me cell phones, no?”
“Yes, but I have some new product I want to talk to you about. It’ll be better in person. Trust me.” This was always the little game I had to play with Ivan. He was paranoid about talking on the phone and he rarely did. Being that I was a legit guy in a legit business, he did so—but only if it didn’t stray away from Teleco business. “How about lunch at the Russian Tsar? My treat. I can fill you in on the latest and greatest that Teleco has to offer.”
I arrived at the restaurant at 12:30 p.m. sharp. It was already overrun with its usual lunch crowd, though I never had to worry about getting a table. They always had a table for Ivan; in fact, no one else sat there. As soon as I opened the door of the restaurant, a blast of Russian conversation flooded my ears. As usual, Ivan was already there, drinking hot tea and nibbling on a plate of pickles.
“Privet, Ivan.”
“Privet.”
“Thanks for meeting me.”
“A man must eat.”
“Right.”
Two bowls filled with Russian salad, a steaming plate of grilled meat, and beef stroganov were placed in front of us. We dug in. I inhaled deeply, savoring the aromas. It never failed to get the faucet flowing in my mouth.
There was only one way to eat when dining with Ivan: his way. He didn’t like to talk and eat at the same time. He found it difficult. He preferred to eat first, then talk. This, of course, was fine by me. I, too, hated talking and eating at the same time. It’s like we were meant to be dining buddies.
After feasting, I always got coffee and a slice of Napoleon cake. Ivan usually just stuck with his tea, but he surprised me today and got a slice as well. “This is the first time I’ve seen you partake in dessert.”
“We all have to live once in a while,” he chuckled.
“I think I’m in trouble,” I said.
“We all have problems.”
“Mine are unusual.”
“We all think that.”
“I need your opinion.”
“Most do.”
I took a folded piece of paper out of my pocket and placed it on the table.
Ivan opened the paper just enough to see what was written on it. “Yes,” he said.
“You know him.”
“I know of him,” he said, dropping the paper back on the table.
“I think he wants to take me out.”
“Where to?”
“No. I think he wants to take me out. Like get rid of me.”
“That’s a big accusation.”
“That’s a big word.”
“I’m a big man.”
And he was. Ivan, like many Russians, was very athletic and lifted weights. Solid beefsteak—not an ounce of fat on his body. I don’t know what Tav was talking about when he dissed Ivan as not being able to handle Viktor.
“I just said this guy may want me dead. Have you no concern?”
“Darby, in my world, people come and go. It’s nothing new.”
“Well, in my world, it’s a big deal. And if I go before I finish my consult, who knows what success the Odessa clan could have achieved?” I hoped mentioning the business might spark some care on his part, if not for me, for his organization. There was no doubt they were making more money because of me. If they wanted to continue to maximize profits, well, I needed to be alive for them to do that. Plus I knew it was easy for Ivan to let others in San Francisco know I was off limits. I was hoping it would translate to people on the outside. This was a good way to find out how powerful his word really was.
“Tell me everything,” he said. “Leave out no details.”
I had hit the sweet spot: his wallet. I explained to Ivan discreetly and quietly the entire ordeal, except the parts about talking to Sokolov.
“Darby, we are not entirely friendly with that gang you speak about, but we are not entirely enemies with them either. It’s so-so. I will ask friends of ours to keep us informed on Viktor’s whereabouts. I will know if he comes to San Francisco. If he comes, we’ll deal with him. But I don’t think he will.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You are nobody. Not worth the effort it would take. If you live there, yes, you probably be dead, but here…” Ivan brushed off the topic. He was done with it. “So what about new product?”
Shit! That was an excuse to just meet. I w
racked my brain for something new. Bingo. “It’s a new phone Teleco just came out with. It allows you to shoot video in 3D and upload it to the net in real time.”
“Sounds interesting, but why do I need this?”
“I have ideas on how this can help. As soon as the first shipment arrives, I’ll send some samples over and we can talk more then.”
54
Same deli. Same seat. Grigory Orlov watched Ivan and Darby eat their lunch and have their private conversation.
No other member of the gang was allowed to eat at the Russian Tsar while Ivan was conducting business. This was the controlling part of his personality, and something Orlov despised. He didn’t like being kept out of the gang’s business. Why should he? He was a brigadier in charge of his own crew. He held seniority.
Orlov had taken it upon himself to keep tabs on Darby, even more so after he heard from Moscow. Orlov knew he shouldn’t be discussing gang business with the Moscow organization, but he was angry with Ivan for keeping him out of the loop with the gang’s decisions. The trouble between them started before Darby even came on board as a consultant, but that certainly hadn’t helped.
Ivan had diminished Orlov’s role in the gang purposely. At one point, he had a bigger crew and responsibility for the car theft ring. But then Orlov questioned Ivan on his decision making. Suddenly the car business was now shared with another brigadier, and Orlov was forced to find other ways of earning. To make matters worse, that brigadier listened to everything Darby had to say and practically doubled the income for his portion of the operation. That said, the demotion was still the bigger embarrassment. Orlov looked bad in front of the other leaders. Someone had to understand how he felt. Maybe Moscow would understand.
This American, he tries to play it off like he’s hired help. A dentist doesn’t have lunch with Ivan after fixing a cavity. He fixes teeth. He’s done. You don’t fool me, Mr. Stansfield.
He had already heard through his network of contacts about Darby’s troubles with Viktor Kazapov.
