“Hell Yes!” Sergey said, “Make damn sure you get him here.”
“As you said, you’re paying me a lot of money, and I want to collect it today,” Macy replied.
When the conversation ended, Sergey immediately called one of his most trusted security men in his Mafia family, Aleksey Kalmakoff. Aleksey knew how to maim and kill and was without scruples.
“Aleksey, I want you to get Pavel Abramov and come to my condo by one o’clock today. I’ve got people coming who need to be eliminated. Do you understand?”
“We will be there, Sergey,” was the reply in Russian.
Sergey had selected Pavel Abramov to accompany Aleksey because of this man’s ability to kill with his bare hands in a brutal manner. He was strong enough to crush all the bones in a person’s throat.
Sergey had one more call to make, the Benefactor. He dialed the number that the Benefactor had given him, punched in the code and hung up.
He rested and anticipated the return call. He waited thirty minutes and no reply. He picked up the phone to try again when it rang.
“What do you want, Sergey?” said the Benefactor, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I have difficulties and I require your help,” Sergey said. “I’m willing to pay double your usual fee. I need a woman named Leah Hamilton silenced for good. She’s a patient in a rehab center in Houston.”
“I know the woman and where she is,” the Benefactor interrupted him.
“If you make sure that she never gets out of there alive, I’ll cut you in on my business. Partnership with you would make us untouchable.”
There was a momentary silence and then the Benefactor replied, “I think a partnership with you would be acceptable. I’ll take care of the girl, and we can work out the details later.”
Sergey heard the abrupt click as the Benefactor hung up his phone. Anger blazed in his skull. He was not accustomed to being treated in such an impertinent manner, but the Benefactor was the powerful partner he needed so he quashed his anger.
Sergey finished his bloody mary and began preparing for his afternoon blood fest.
Chapter 84
The Benefactor was relishing the same pleasant Chicago day as Sergey, but for entirely different reasons. The elaborate groundwork he had laid was faultlessly in place. His alliance with Macy had put the final pieces of the puzzle together. She would deliver Ben Harris to Sergey, and he would surely kill him and probably Macy too. Sergey didn’t ever leave witnesses. He was certain that the Russian would have some of his men there to clean up the mess and dispose of the bodies. He planned to stake out the condo and after Sergey’s men left, he would go in and take care of the Russian once and for all. The Benefactor had his man in place to take over Sergey’s Mafia family. He would then control the two primary Mexican cartels in the country and the Mafia family that managed the drug trade in Houston and Chicago.
His only regret was that he would not have Macy’s eyes for his collection, but his consolation prize would be Leah Hamilton’s eyes. His potent control of the Salazar cartel in Houston would allow him to get access to Leah Hamilton any time he wanted. At his behest, they had already bribed a counselor in the rehab center where she was being treated. One good thing about today’s America, money could buy you anything. As soon as he eliminated Sergey, he would have Leah delivered to him for his pleasure. He needed raw sex and after he was finished with her, her beautiful eyes were his for the taking. He almost drooled in anticipation.
The Benefactor glanced around his office. The front wall was glass with a glass entrance door. The office was small, only containing his desk, chair and a small conference table with four chairs. On his desk was a picture of him and his wife. He was in full uniform, smiling as she looked up at him with pride. The picture was taken the day he was decorated for bravery and service to the people of Chicago. Behind him on the wall was a picture of the honorable Mayor of Chicago. It was signed to him with the inscription, “Thanks for your service to the people of Chicago. Best Wishes, Richard Daley.”
The Benefactor smirked at the pictures and loathed the shabby office. He deserved a penthouse office overlooking Lake Michigan with a bar and a reception area. Soon, when his plans were accomplished, he would resign from his shitty job and live the life he merited. He desired to live a life of luxury and at his leisure add to his beloved collection. He had more money than he could ever spend stashed in overseas accounts. He would soon control a criminal empire. The Benefactor planned to wield his power from France and Italy. He intended to give the word opulence a new meaning.
The Benefactor’s thoughts were interrupted by an officer approaching his office with an emergency. The Chicago police department was always a busy place.
Chapter 85
Steam rose from the streets on the sticky day in Houston. It was 8:00 a.m. and the temperature was already eighty-four degrees. It had rained the night before and the humidity was in the high nineties. I was about halfway to George Bush International to catch my 10:00 a.m. flight and was stuck in a traffic jam. There was no way of knowing what was causing the stand-still. I was only fifty-feet from an exit that would put me on the feeder road. In Texas, unlike most other states, there are feeder roads running parallel to all major highways. After sitting there for twenty minutes and not moving, I decided, to hell with this. I pulled over to the shoulder and rode the grass to the exit. The drivers I passed glared at me, but I couldn’t afford to miss this flight. After getting on the feeder road of I-45, I had a straight shot to Will Clayton Blvd. I took my exit, turned on Will Clayton and followed the signs to the car rental return area. The shuttle from the car rental return area got me to the terminal at 9:15 a.m. I checked my bags, made it through security, and arrived at the gate at 9:45. The flight was on time and was loading. I slipped in line and soon was in my aisle seat on row fourteen. My breakfast turned out to be a muffin and a glass of tomato juice.
Thirty minutes into the flight, I pulled the airline phone that was in front of me and inserted my credit card to make a call. So much was happening that I had forgotten to tell Rex Herns I was returning to Chicago this morning. I punched in his office number and waited for the ring. He answered immediately, “Rex Herns here, what can I do for you?”
“Hi Rex, this is Ben. I’m on a Continental flight now headed to Chicago. I should be there in about an hour and a half. I received another call from that mysterious female saying she could help me nail Sergey Ivanova. He raped Leah and I want that son-of-a-bitch to pay.”
Special Agent Stewart called me and filled me in on the situation there,” he replied, “but I told you, Ben, you’ve got to be careful with Ivanova. He’s got connections is high places, and he’s dangerous. Where are you staying in Chicago?”
“The Presidential Towers. I plan to go directly there when I arrive at O’Hare,” I replied. “Can we meet later this afternoon and we can discuss the best strategy?”
“Okay, let’s meet at the Asian restaurant in the lobby at fivc. We can have an early dinner and discuss the situation,” he said.
I agreed and we hung up.
I reclined my seat, laid my head back and dozed off. The next thing I heard was the flight attendant telling me to put my seat in an upright position for landing at O’Hare. The touchdown was a little rough as the wind shears were heavy. I grabbed my carry-on from the overhead and walked to baggage claim to collect my luggage. Surprising to me, there was only a fifteen-minute wait. I got my bags and walked out the exit to get the Hertz van to the rental car station outside the airport. As I was waiting for the van, a striking Indian woman approached me. She was dressed in a navy blue pants suit with white blouse buttoned to the top. Her long black hair hung below her shoulders. The conservative clothing could not hide her provocative body. She smiled at me and said, “Hi Mr. Harris, I’ve been waiting on you.”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar. “I’m afraid I don’t know who you are,” I said.
To my surprise, she pulled an FBI badge
from her purse and said, “I’m Special Agent Ahalya Verma Singh, but you can call me Macy.” I took the badge and examined it meticulously. It was authentic.
“What are you doing here, Macy?” I asked. “And, please call me Ben.”
“Thanks, Ben,” she said. “I’ve been working undercover for the past year trying to bust the Russian Mafia here in Chicago. I’m the person who called you and informed you about Leah. I couldn’t risk breaking my cover, so I couldn’t tell you who I was. I know you’re a former cop, so I hope you’ll understand the delicate situation I’m in.”
“If you can get into Sergey’s condo and find evidence on him then why are you including me? That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Special Agent Stewart from Houston called and asked me to include you on the bust as a favor to him. He said you needed to be involved in bringing Sergey down. That’s the only reason I’m doing it. But if you don’t want to be involved, no problem, I’ll do it myself.”
“I need to help with this,” I answered. Macy seemed very confident to me and if Gerry trusted her, then I trusted her.
She looked at her watch. “The reason I picked you up is that our window of opportunity to get into his condo is from two until three. After that we stand a chance of him returning. When I talked to you before, I thought our timing would be later this evening, but that changed. We need to go directly to his condo now so we can have time to search it thoroughly.”
I don’t like surprises, but I agreed to go with her. I grabbed my luggage and we proceeded to her car in the short-term parking deck.
The wind had picked up in Chicago, and it was blowing in a cold front. Dark clouds gathered and rain would be falling soon. I watched the buildings pass as we drove to the downtown Chicago area. We soon entered the elite Gold Coast area where the rich and the corrupt politicians lived. We pulled into the parking lot of the impressive Walton on the Park building.
“Just follow my lead,” Macy said as we walked to the entrance of the structure. As soon as we entered, we faced the security desk.
A lanky blond guard with black-rimmed glasses and skin scarred from teenage acne smiled at us. “Can I help you?”
“I have permission to see Mr. Ivanova on floor seven. I’m Macy Crick,” she replied.
The guard checked his list, looked up at her curiously, and then looked at me. “Wait, I need to check with the head of security,” he said. He picked up the phone and punched in a number and spoke briefly to the person on the other end.
In less than two minutes another guard approached the desk. Macy looked totally calm and confident. The guard was in his forties, shaved bald head, very tall with brown eyes. He was not smiling.
“I’m Josh Anderson,” he said as he took the book from the other guard’s hand and checked it. “May I see a picture ID.?”
Macy took an Illinois driver’s license from her purse and gave it to him.
The guard looked at the card and at the book again. “Okay you’re clear to enter Ms. Crick. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
He handed the fake ID back to Macy and we walked to the elevator. “How did you pull that off?” I asked in amazement.
“I have my ways that you don’t need to know about.” She pushed the gold seven on the elevator panel. She took a key out of her purse and entered it into the slot below the floor number and turned it. The elevator purred and delivered us the floor seven. She reached into her purse again, pulled out another key, and unlocked the door of Sergey Ivanova’s private Condo.
“I don’t know how you pulled this off, but I’m impressed,” I said.
We entered the apartment. A wall of glass with the exquisite view of Chicago faced us. The living area was done in all black leather, stainless steel, and glass. There was an aquarium on the far wall with a beautiful jellyfish in it. To the right was a stainless steel and glass bar.
“He keeps his safe and his private papers in the master bedroom,” Macy said as she walked briskly toward the closed door, which I presumed led to the bedroom. I followed her. She entered the room and turned to face me. I don’t know what happened next. I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head and everything went black…
* * *
My head was pounding and I was disoriented. Shades of grey and black were all I could see. I tried to open my eyes to comprehend where I was, but they felt glued shut. I heard voices in the distance, murmuring. I felt a splash of cold water hit my face and my eyes opened. I tried to stand, but I couldn’t; tried to raise my hands to my face, but I couldn’t. Finally, the out-of-focus images became clear. Standing in front of me was Macy with an empty glass, which I guess held the water she threw in my face. Beside her was Sergey Ivanova and behind him were two very large men. I realized that I was bound, with my feet taped to the chair and my hands taped behind me. I had a splitting headache, and I realized that it had been a trap skillfully executed by Macy.
“What do you want?” I managed to murmur.
Sergey smirked at me and replied, “I want to know what you think I did and who you’re working with, and I want to know it now!”
“Well you bastard, I know you raped Leah and sent her to Cheche to sell. I know you killed Bo Lopez and by God you’re going to pay.”
He got directly in my face and I saw the rage in his eyes, “Who are you working with and who did you tell these lies to?”
I spit in his face.
He snatched a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped at his face. He stepped over to me and his left hand shot out into my midsection. The punch knocked the wind out of me, and I struggled to breathe.
He repeated the question, “Who are you working with and who did you tell these lies to?”
As soon as I got my breath returned I said, “Go to hell, you son-of-a bitch!”
His eyes blazed with rage again and he started to step forward, but Macy grabbed his elbow and whispered something to him. They walked out of the bedroom and closed the door. The other two men eyed me with mild amusement.
I knew if I told Sergey what he wanted, I would be dead within minutes. It was clear he was trying to determine the scope of his problems with the law. As long as I held out, he would not kill me, but he could still deal out a lot of pain.
The door to the living area opened and Sergey came back in. He was carrying a large pair of wire cutters. Macy followed behind him, a worried look on her face. He looked at his men and snarled, “Get out!” They shrugged and left.
He approached me, his eyes still crazed with anger. He was not used to being denied anything. “I ask you once again. Who are you working with and what did you tell them?”
I grinned at him, but said nothing. He back-handed me across the mouth and I tasted blood. This could turn out to be a slow death; I hoped my spirit could survive. He walked behind the chair, and I felt the cold steel of the wire cutters close on my index finger. “Are you sure this finger is disposable?” he grunted. “It’s your trigger finger.”
I gritted my teeth and waited for the pain.
Then suddenly something unexpected happened. Macy rushed over to where I was bound, “Wait Sergey, if you cut off his finger, he’ll never talk. I know men like him. He was Special Forces in the United States military and a former policeman. You’ll shut him up forever if you do this, and you’ll be looking over your shoulder waiting for the people he’s working with to catch up with you. Give me a chance alone with him. I’ll get the information.”
I felt the wire cutters tighten as Sergey slowly closed them. I felt the edges cut my skin and flesh, but he stopped and opened them up, releasing my damaged finger.
“Give me five minutes with him. If I don’t get your information, you can cut off his damn hand for all I care,” she said in a calm dispassionate voice.
“Okay, five minutes,” Sergey said. He stalked out of the room and closed the door.
“Listen carefully Ben,” she said. “I’m wearing a recording device and believe it or not I’m on your side. Right now we don’
t have anything on this man other than speculation. I need to get a confession on tape, of any crime. I though he would by now have confessed to you about raping Leah and maybe killing Bo Lopez, but he has carefully worded his statements without saying he did anything. I need for you to help me get some damning evidence on tape and I will notify our guys and they’ll come in immediately, but we don’t have much time. Work with me on this. I’m going to give him some false information and you go along with it. You must trust me.”
I didn’t know what to think. She was the one who lured me here, but on the other hand I would not have rescued Leah without her help. What have I got to lose? I told her I’d play along.
Sergey burst into the room, “Your five minutes are up,” be blurted. He was still carrying the wire cutters.
Macy calmly put her hand on his chest. “Just listen to me Sergey,” she said, “Ben didn’t tell anybody he was coming here. He had no time because I surprised him at the airport and we came directly here. He was working with Special Agent Gerry Stewart in Houston, but they had nothing on you but speculation and they knew Leah Hamilton’s statements would be her word against yours. Ben’s here on a fishing expedition trying to get anything on you he can. No one knows he’s here and the only other person you have to worry about is Leah Hamilton, who is currently in a rehab center.”
Sergey stared at her for a moment and said, “How did you persuade him to talk?”
“I told him we’d kill Leah if he didn’t talk to us,” Macy replied.
“Well I’m having Ms. Hamilton taken care of,” Sergey said. “Now let’s destroy this bastard. I’ve got a special treat for him.” He yelled to the other room for his men to come in.
The Spirit Survives Page 31
