by Kenya Wright
Ignore the sexiness and focus.
I decided in that moment to never think of him as Kazimir. The name was just as hot and unique as the man, and I didn’t need to be thinking of sexy. I had to stay focused.
It took me less than twenty minutes to get to the pink ribboned ladder, signaling for my block. I’d tied the ribbons on years ago. Now they appeared frazzled and moth eaten. I shut the flashlight off and climbed up.
The cool night air hit my skin as I clambered out of the sewer and into an alley between 153rd and 155th street—three blocks down from my home.
After the silence of the tunnels, the city’s noise scratched against my senses. It took me time to adjust as I slammed the sewer top down and left the alley. Music and chatter blasted from the yellow painted Bodega across the street. I went in there all the time. The owner, Paco kept an old radio on the ice machine. On a Friday night like tonight, he loved to pop some cassette tapes in and talk crap and drink with the guys crowded in front.
A dirty, wrinkled newspaper rolled along the sidewalk. On the cover, there was a huge question mark dripping in blood. The headline read, “Who’s the Tinder Killer?”
The wind blew at the newspaper, turning the page.
A black man displayed on the next page talking about another story. I recognized the dead man’s face from the news. He and two men had been shot over fifty times by plainclothes police. It had sparked from some out of hand bar fight in Queens and then spun out of control. The worst part was that he died the day before his wedding. Everybody had been angry about it, causing long debates in laundromats and almost fist fights out in the streets.
I passed the paper and moved on.
Further down the side streets were old brownstones that had been purchased and renovated. FOR SALE signs sat in their front yards.
It took me ten more minutes to get to Xavier’s.
It was a lair. That was the only way to describe it. He didn’t live inside a house or building. Instead he’d used an old abandoned school bus—one of those small ones to transport disabled children. Holes decorated the sides. He’d taken off the tires, dragged it back into an alley on the side of our old building, and blacked out the windows. In the back of the vehicle, he’d made a bed of the seats. In the front, his guests could lounge on painted crates and check out his little makeshift shelves full of technical equipment. There were tiny hidden cameras planted on the top of the bus’s roof and in the headlights. He used a battery-operated hot plate for food. During the winter, he had a battery-operated heater. Usually, he hung out in the bus driver’s seat a lot, reading and checking his security footage every now and then. There was an outhouse that he’d hid further down in the alley. God only knew how and where he emptied. I damn sure never asked.
Xavier had been my neighbor long ago. I didn’t like to think about those times, when we all lived in that building. None of us liked the past. And even when I purchased the building, Xavier was the main person against it, refusing to move into the vacant apartments I’d had renovated for him.
“I’ll never go back there.” Xavier pointed at me. “Don’t you ever bring that place up to me again.”
And I never did. We pretended like the building never existed, that our past never happened. And I visited and brought him things when I could. Unfortunately, I had nothing to give this night. Instead, I’d come for advice and answers.
I entered the alley. The bus’s door was open. Maxwell stood next to the outside of the bus.
Xavier sat on the bus’s steps, scratching his salt and pepper beard. He’d gone bald and shaved the rough afro he usually wore. Due to the smooth cut, the tattoos on his head were exposed, all-star constellations inked on his dark brown skin.
Xavier ran his fingers through that beard again and sneered. “You two can’t stay out of trouble.”
“I see Max has caught you up.” I gave Xavier a hug, closing my nose to the funk and grime that covered him like a second skin. I let him go and stepped back. “What do you think about our situation?”
Xavier lit a joint and inhaled. “I knew something was odd when I saw a bunch of tech vehicles parked down by that place.”
That place was the building where I lived.
“Men were sneaking in that motherfucker like people aren’t going to notice.” Xavier offered the joint to Max.
Max shook his head and then looked at me. “The crime world doesn’t inspire trust. So, we’re sure they have cameras and bugs all in there. Be careful of what you say and do, Emily, but don’t act like you know they’re watching.”
I shrugged. “This isn’t the first time someone’s tried this. We’ll be fine. I’m more worried about why they want me to wash money for them.”
Max let out a long breath. “That’s what the fuck they want? Why you of all people? I mean you’re efficient, but—”
“It doesn’t matter why,” Xavier said. “All that matters is you need to do that shit, and do it perfectly. No half steps. No fuck ups or your ass is dead.”
“Great pep talk.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Have you heard anything around Harlem, X?”
“The biggest news is Rumi is dead.” Xavier blew out smoke. “TV and cops say it was a suicide. Everyone on the streets say he was killed. And it’s all types of stories. Some say the Jamaicans did it. Rumi never got along with them. Others say Rumi liked some nasty shit, when it came to sex, and it went too far. Motherfucker died orgasming.”
Maxwell shook his head. “Harlem has always had some of the best storytellers.”
My heart stopped for a few seconds. I had this awful anxiety in my gut. All of this was directly related and now everything was making sense.
“Who do you think did it?” I asked.
Maxwell shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not our problem.”
“Suicide or not, Rumi washed for the Russians.” I began piecing everything together. “He dies, they’re looking for who did it, but most importantly, they need their money cleaned. They go to Darryl because his name is all over the records.”
“I told you not to do that.” Xavier coughed into his hand.
“If I didn’t have Darryl connected to the businesses, Rumi would’ve bothered him or worse.”
And then Xavier went into what we liked to call his preacher mode. “Darryl didn’t have to fucking work for Rumi in the first place, and you damn sure didn’t have to clean up his messes. You should have stayed out of the whole situation with Darryl and Rumi years ago, but you can’t because you like to be the big sister to the rescue. And now look at where you are? You thought you’d created a solution back in the day, but what you did was build a trap around you.”
“Thanks for the positivity, X, but I need answers, not advice that I won’t listen to anyway.”
“Stubborn.” He took another puff of his joint.
“If he put cameras in there, I can’t turn them off, but I at least want to know where they are.”
Smoke left Xavier’s lips. “The easiest way to detect hidden cameras is checking around the place carefully. An inch-by-inch search to find the obvious ones. Those men were in and out your place in less than ten minutes, which meant they probably put the cameras in everyday devices—smoke detectors, electrical outlets, stuffed teddy bears, edge of table tops, shelves. Listen as you walk through the place. Some hidden motion-sensing surveillance cameras make an almost inaudible buzz when in use.”
Max chimed in. “Definitely don’t make it obvious that you’re looking. Pretend to clean up or something.”
I nodded.
Xavier continued, “When I used to install shit like this for most guys, they never really loaded up the perp’s bedroom or bathroom with cameras. Most wanted a focus on the living room. People do business in there. Meet with police and rival gangs in there. That’s what these Russians are watching you for, making sure your ass doesn’t get stupid and try to get help.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right. Last time the Chinese didn’t put
anything in my bathroom or bedroom. That makes sense.”
“Bathroom causes problems for surveillance. Your place has a small one too. Shower steam could fuck it up. If they put something there, it’s in the door knob.” Xavier made the sign of a cross. “If that knob hole now looks like a tiny cross opening in the center, there’s a camera there.”
I wrote everything down in my head.
“For the bedroom, turn off the lights.” Xavier tapped the ash off his joint. “I used to install night vision security cameras for that shady hotel on Merker Street. Back in the day, when the owner like to have shit on people. Some creepy hotel managers still put a camera in their customers’ rooms.”
“That’s fucking crazy.” Maxell frowned.
“People are crazy.” Xavier turned back to me. “Either way, all you do is turn off the lights, most hidden security cameras have red or green LEDs. The LEDs will blink or shine, when in low-light conditions.”
“Anything else?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Xavier glared at me. “Leave this whole situation alone.”
“What do you want me to do? Darryl’s my brother, I love him. I take care of him. Anybody who can’t get that shouldn’t be fucking with me.”
Xavier rolled his eyes. “I don’t invite you all to my happy abode. You two come over here bringing mess my way.”
Max raised his hands. “Okay. Okay. Let’s stay on track, guys.”
I stirred. “I don’t like them watching me. I want to do what we did with the Chinese and put a bug on the top guy—”
“Are you fucking crazy?” Max asked. “You want to track the leader.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He seems like the type to come into a person’s place without knocking. The last thing I need is him sitting in my kitchen one morning when I wake up.”
Xavier finished his joint. “That shit would be dangerous, if he ever found out.”
“Then, we make sure he doesn’t find out.” I looked at Max. “Have you found anything on Kazimir?”
“Shit. Have I found anything on him?” Max laughed. “The motherfucker’s reputation proceeds him. People call him the Russian Lion. I did a search and several FBI sites came up. He’s considered the number seven most dangerous person in the world.”
Fear hit my heart, but I pushed it away. “Well, at least he’s not number one.”
“He’s suspected of heading Bratva which is involved in anything you can think of—diamond and arms dealing, credit card fraud, cyber-crime, drugs, prostitution. Anything you can think of, his group does it.”
“Group.” Xavier laughed. “You make it sound like a club of dainty women. It’s the fucking Russian mafia. They have no qualms about murdering people. If they have to kill you, they kill you.”
Max continued, “He’s not even supposed to be in America. There’s a huge reward for any sighting or information on him, which is not an option for us because I bet he has FBI agents on his payroll—”
“And probably the NYPD,” Xavier added. “There’s no way Rumi committed suicide. The bastard loved himself too much. Sounds like dirty cops in the mix, covering shit up.”
Max began to pace by the brick wall. “I think it’s a good time to get out of here. We saved up some money. Let’s just leave New York.”
Max always wants to run. Scaredy cat.
It had taken him a month to walk through the tunnels without jumping at rats and screaming in fear. It was a whole year before he would even walk through them by himself, and even now he wasn’t excited about taking them.
I shook my head. “We saved up twenty thousand. That’s not shit for us to live on forever. Where are we going? We’ve never left New York. And what are you going to do, be a bag boy at a grocery store? Our skills aren’t résumé-worthy. And besides, they have Darryl. I’m not leaving New York without Darryl.”
“Darryl put himself into this shit.” Xavier put the tiny burnt out joint in his pocket. “Why don’t you let him get himself out.”
Maxwell said nothing.
“We don’t know if Darryl put himself in this or not, and it doesn’t matter,” I said. “He’s my brother. I’ll protect him to the end.”
“I’m glad he’s your brother because I’m not in this.” Xavier rose from the steps and turned to go back inside his bus. “You both let me know how it works out, if you don’t end up dead.”
“X, I need you, please.”
He kept his back to me. “What do you need?”
“Just a little tracker job.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Max said. “If this Russian is hiding from the FBI and fucking Interpol, he would probably not appreciate someone tracking him.”
“He started it,” I said. “He probably has surveillance over my place. People probably went all in my apartment and touched my things. I just want to put something on him to keep track of where he is until this is done.”
Xavier looked over his shoulder. “How do you want to track him?”
“I could probably grab his phone like we did with the Chinese.”
When kids were hungry and alone on the streets, they picked up nifty skills like pickpocketing.
In my opinion, I was the best in New York. I could stand and talk to someone about normal conversation as I took my time taking their keys, wallet, and phone. It was all about distraction.
“Don’t do this shit, Em,” Max said. “Please.”
“She won’t listen.” Xavier turned around. “But you know what? If your dumb behind can get that phone, bring it to me, and give me time to put a tracker in the battery, I’ll do it. But that’s it. Don’t come over here for anything else.”
Xavier always added that last line, but we knew it was bullshit. Xavier lost his daughters—my childhood friends. Not only did we remind him of them, we’d ended up being his children by chaotic default.
“How long would it take you to put the tracker in the battery?” I asked.
“Five minutes at the most.” Xavier shut the bus door, ending out visit without a goodbye.
Maxwell looked at me. “How the hell are you going to take his phone?”
I shrugged.
“What are you going to do when you get in the apartment?”
I shrugged again. “I’m pretty much going with what comes.”
Max sighed. “Well, if you want my advice, which you probably don’t, use your biggest weapon.”
“What’s that?”
“Sex appeal.” He winked at me. “Seduce the lion.”
My nerves frazzled a little at the thought. I didn’t have a problem with flirting with men to get what I want or to remain safe. It was just that usually I wasn’t attracted to the target which made it acting and nothing more.
With this Kazimir, I wasn’t sure if I could keep my hormones from reacting.
“Don’t overdo it. Just seize the opportunity for arousing him, when possible. Men are many things, but we aren’t that complicated when it comes to women.” Max walked off.
I followed. “So, what should I do with this one? I might not even be his type.”
Max laughed. “When a woman’s titties come out, she ends up being every man’s type.”
I paused in the alley.
He stopped and smiled at me. “You happen to have a nice rack.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, your advice is to show him my breasts. It’s that easy? He comes over and I’m like, ‘Hey, check out my titties!’”
“No way.” Max looked off in the direction of our building. “You know he has cameras in there, but he doesn’t know you know that. First, figure out where all the cameras are and then give him a strip tease. Take off a little, but don’t get naked. Keep it slow, making him want more. Show him no more than your bra and panties. Figure out where the camera is, turn around, take your bra off, put a shirt on, and then go to sleep. That should be enough.”
“Do this tonight?”
“No, too soon. Let him pick you up tomorrow. Flirt with him. Put that feminine charm on
him. Then, later that night. . .go for it.”
“And then what?” I asked.
Maxwell gazed at our building. “We’ll see.”
“He might not be the one even looking at the cameras.”
“True, but do you have any other options because if you do, take them. And if you’re giving him that charm, he’ll look.” Max turned his attention to the full moon. “Have you heard from Kennedy?”
“No. Why?”
“I thought it was weird that she left.”
“I didn’t have time to think about it, being that I was dealing with a lion.”
“Maybe we should keep her out of this.”
“I agree. This is a dirty situation anyway. No need to pull others in.”
“Stay safe.” Max saluted and headed away. “I’ve got something to check on. I’ll see you later.”
“Stay safe.”
Max walked off in the other direction. Worry covered his face.
Find the cameras and seduce the lion? Easy. What could go wrong, but everything?
Chapter 6
Kazimir
The Russian Tea Room had satisfied my hunger.
The decor was wild with red and gold featured everywhere. Very ornate furnishings. There was even a giant glass bear filled with water that rotated in the center of the restaurant.
A couple whispered and sat at the table. Their hushed conversation reached us.
“This is why we should leave New York, Jason.” The woman shook her head and didn’t even touch her food. “Between the shootings and this new serial killer, I don’t know what to do.”
“It will be okay, honey.” He chewed his steak. “Drink some more of your wine.”
“I’m tired of you saying that to me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s like you’re oblivious to what’s going on around us.”
“The police will find the Tinder Killer.”
