To his embarrassment, his eyes clouded over. What could he say? There was no way he could repay Dennis now. “He shouldn’t have done that.”
“He ran out of hope. We all do sometimes.”
“Not all of us. I had someone who gave a damn.”
“It went both ways.” Morgan gently kissed his lips. “Parkin?”
“Yes?”
“You ever do something that insane again, I will kill you myself.”
Alex grinned. “I’ll try to rein in my superhero tendencies just for you.”
Tears glistened, then her arms went around him, tight and warm and full of love. When she began to sob, his tears joined hers.
*~*~*
September 29th
Hotel St. Sebastian
Still using a cane, his injured leg aching, Alex made the slow journey to see Crispin Wilder. When invitation had been issued, he knew it would be unwise to refuse it. He owed this guy everything.
His brain was still buzzing from the call he’d received from a DEA hotshot in Washington just that morning. The man had offered him a half-assed apology, during which Alex had resisted the desire to tell the jerk to go screw himself.
Instead, he’d suggested that the agency should do a better job of policing their own. No surprise, the call had ended shortly after that. Clearly the people at the top didn’t care what he thought, just as long as he didn’t file a lawsuit against their sorry asses.
He tapped on the door to Crispin’s hotel suite, the same one as before. Apparently the management didn’t have a problem with assassination attempts when the man paying the bills was rich and well mannered. After the locks were disengaged, the door opened to reveal Wilder himself. He held a 9mm down by his side.
“Alex, thank you for coming,” Crispin said, beckoning him into the room. It was only the two of them today, which told Alex this was something different than just a “thanks for all your help” sort of chat.
Once the door was secured, Crispin set the gun aside and gestured toward a pair of chairs. “Let’s sit by the window. More light there. I need to get away from the work to let my head clear.”
A quick glance at the suite’s dining room table revealed that work—a laptop computer and a legal notepad filled with notes. From what Morgan had told Alex, her boss always had a full background study completed on every potential mission. Veritas couldn’t take them all on, so Crispin chose the ones he felt had the best chance of success. When he was conflicted, he asked the other members of Veritas’s board to weigh in. Exactly who those folks were was strictly “need to know.” Even Morgan wasn’t privy to the names.
They settled in the chairs near the window.
“Aren’t you worried your enemies will come after you again, since they obviously know you’re staying here?” Alex asked.
“Predictability is an issue for me. I love this hotel, so my enemies know I stay here. I’ll have to change it around next time, or life will be boring.”
“And if they manage to take you out?”
“There is always someone waiting in the wings to take my place,” Crispin replied.
“The king is dead, long live the king?”
“Just like that, but with less pomp and circumstance.”
It was an interesting notion. “Is that why you gave up gunrunning? Changing it up?” When Crispin didn’t immediately reply, Alex realized he might have overstepped. “If that’s a sensitive subject, I apologize. Truth is, I’m curious, because it’ll give me an idea of why you’re heading Veritas. You have to admit, it’s a big leap from one job to the other.”
Crispin rose and poured himself two fingers of a dark amber Scotch. He raised the bottle and gave Alex a questioning look.
“Yes, thanks, but half that. I’m a lightweight now.”
Crispin returned with the glasses, took his seat, and crossed his legs. His shoes were neatly polished, but it looked as though they weren’t new. More like a comfortable pair he was loath to part with.
Another curious facet of this most curious man.
“Your question is one I don’t usually answer. But in this case we share something in common, the fact that I started over and you will need to do the same.” Crispin sipped the liquor, then leaned back in the chair. “It is easy for one man . . . or woman . . . to say his actions have little consequence in this world, because it gives them a convenient out. But it’s not true. It doesn’t matter if you work at a 7-Eleven or if you’re an arms merchant, you make an impact on society. Admittedly, the latter more than the former, but we all contribute either by enforcing the rules of that society, or by breaking the bonds that hold us together as humans.”
“So you were a very substantial chaos generator?”
Crispin shook his head. “I was Death’s very gifted apprentice, minus the robe and scythe. I cannot possibly guess how many people died because of my activities.”
Alex tilted his head. “It could be argued that someone else would have done the same job with similar effect. You were fulfilling a need, hideous though it was. Not that I’m condoning it, mind you.”
“No, but another wouldn’t have been as efficient. I was particularly adept at my trade,” Crispin said, his voice full of bitterness. “Now, I’m adept at balancing the scales, making those who hurt others pay the price, if possible.”
“Then you’re still Death’s apprentice, in a different way.”
Crispin pondered that. “Yes, I guess I am,” he replied, smiling slightly. “I’d like you to work for us, Alex. Though you don’t think you have skills, you do. You speak passable Russian, you know the drug trade, you think like a criminal. And—this is the most important part—you have a conscience.”
“Let me guess—if I hadn’t gone in to rescue Dennis, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“Exactly. The world needs more honorable people, like you and the Iceman and Valkyrie. If you had walked away from that hostage situation, I would have known that you put your pride above the life of another. Even the life of a man who betrayed you for his own personal reasons.”
“His sister.” Crispin nodded. “Did you know Dennis had double-crossed the Buryshkins when Morgan and I went into the house?”
“No, I did not. I expected the problem to be Anya. Dimitri warned us she was growing increasingly unstable.”
“I’m guessing that after I talked to Dennis at the police station, he decided to break free of the Russians. I had no idea he’d been keeping my ‘get out of jail free’ records for years.”
“That’s my assumption as well. What do you think will happen now that Vladimir Buryshkin is out of the way?”
Alex took a long sip of his Scotch, letting it burn its way down to his belly. “It’s going to go to hell. I doubt that Grigori will take his uncle’s position—it’s not his goal in life—and with Anya gone, there will be a substantial power vacuum.”
“I agree. New Orleans will suffer through a change of gang leadership, at least in the drug and prostitution trades.”
“Los Impíos will try to gain more ground,” Alex said. “They’ll claim the city as theirs, even if it isn’t. Unless they’ve changed since I was in prison, they’re more likely to war among themselves than execute a full takeover. It’s going to be ugly for a while.”
“Again, I agree. There’s already been a change in leadership just in the last couple of days. Miguel de Francisco, the one who sent his men to burn out your sister, is dead. His cousin, Arnaldo, has taken over for the time being. The word we received is that you and Miri are no longer targets.”
“Because . . . ?”
“Arnaldo is too busy fighting his own battles to mess with you. Also, he was warned that if they made any further attempts on either of you they would answer to Veritas.”
Well, hell.
“He agreed to that ultimatum?”
“He did. He is infinitely smarter than his predecessor.” Crispin sighed. “Unfortunately, the power vacuum is going to be felt on the streets
. That’s the downside of removing a strongman or a dictator. Post-Saddam Hussein Iraq is a good example. He kept the factions in check through a particularly brutal regime, but removing him upset the balance of power. We’re still paying for that mistake. Hopefully, we won’t have that degree of carnage here.”
That comment could only lead to one question. “Did you ever meet him? Hussein?”
Crispin didn’t reply, which was an answer of its own.
Alex shifted gears. “So what’s your sales pitch?”
“Before I get to that, we owe you something.” He walked to the table, retrieved a large manila envelope, and handed it to Alex. As Crispin settled into his chair, Alex turned the envelope over in his hands. Only his name was on the front.
“What’s this?”
“Our agreement was to supply you with all the information we had compiled as to who set you up and how you might go about clearing your name. Events have overrun what’s in that report, though some of it might still prove useful when you return to court.”
Alex nodded. “Dennis did our work for us.”
“In many ways, yes. Once his sister became gravely ill, Buryshkin swooped in. The Russian was an expert at exploiting any personal weakness.”
“Thank you, anyway. You honored everything you said you’d do for me and my sister. I’m not used to that kind of backup.”
“Well, you will be if you join us. We work across the globe, sometimes with the blessing of a country’s government, sometimes without their knowledge, or occasionally as their enemies. Our name says it all: truth. We reveal it whenever and wherever we can. We make a small difference, here and there, but at least we are trying.”
“Did Veritas exist before you came on board?”
“Yes, on a smaller scale, with limited funds. They made me a job offer, once upon a time.”
“You’re kidding me,” Alex said, stunned.
“No. I was recruited, just as I am trying to recruit you. The first time they made contact, I told them I’d kill them all if they didn’t back off. Then . . . things changed,” he said, his eyes sadder now. “The second time, I accepted their offer.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Alex knew better than to ask what had pushed this man to make that decision.
Crispin set his now-empty glass aside. “The salary is excellent, and the medical and dental have to be, given what you’ll face. It’s a dangerous commitment that means you might come back in a box, if there’s enough left of you to bury. We fight hard. Sometimes we win, sometimes we die.”
“That’s a helluva sales pitch. What about Morgan? Would I work with her?”
A knowing smile came his way. “What is your status with her?”
Alex weighed his answer. “We’ve got the start of something good, but need to sort things out. Trust has been an issue for both of us in the past, but it’s looking promising. At least for now.”
What if Crispin said they couldn’t work together? Would he still want the job?
“If she is agreeable to partnering with you, I have no objections to that or to you sharing a personal relationship. You two are a very strong team. Better than I had hoped, actually.”
“Is that why you sent her after me on that stretch of Louisiana highway?”
Crispin nodded. “I knew you would butt heads, but you did what I’d hoped—you located the cocaine and put an end to Buryshkin’s empire.”
“We found the dope, but we didn’t stop Buryshkin. Dennis did. He should get all the credit.”
“Indeed,” Crispin said, conceding the point gracefully. “Will you join us?”
Alex drank the remainder of his Scotch and set the glass on the nearby end table. “Let me do some thinking. It’s a big step, and I’m not the only one involved.”
“Understood. Let me know either way.”
They shook hands, and as Alex opened the door to leave the suite, the man who might become his boss returned to the dining-room table, flipped a page on his legal pad, his brows furrowed in thought.
“It never ends, does it?” Alex asked.
Crispin looked up at him, shaking his head. “Evil offers us a perverse form of job security. Personally, I’d rather be unemployed.”
Amen.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
October 6th
Superior Court
Alex found himself so nervous he kept fumbling with his tie. It looked like a third grader had tied it, no matter how many times he fussed with the damned thing.
“Here, let me do that,” Morgan said, straightening it with her nimble fingers. She was dressed in a severe black suit, a brilliant blue silk top, and black pumps. Her “going to court” outfit, as she called it. They were headed there in a few minutes to see if there was enough evidence to overturn his conviction.
Alex was alternately confident and freaked out. Morgan had tried to calm him down, but nothing much had helped, not even the sex they’d shared in the shower this morning.
“You sure this is going to work?” he asked, probably for the tenth time.
Fortunately, Morgan took it all in stride. “Yes, it’ll be fine. Now just chill, okay?”
He sighed. The district attorney had studied the evidence gathered by his ex-partner. It’d been thorough, probably the most comprehensive case Dennis had compiled in his career, his final message from the grave. In it, he admitted to exactly what he’d done over the years, why he’d done it, and who had blackmailed him into doing it. He named names, gave dates, and said where the bodies were buried. Sometimes literally.
As Alex waited in the hallway outside the courtroom, he was relieved not to be alone today. His sister and Tucker were present, and he had no doubt there would be a tattoo in his sister’s future, the way they were talking back and forth. A short distance away, Neil stood near Alex’s new boss.
Crispin gave him a nod and Alex smiled back. It had been an easy decision to join Veritas—they never left anyone behind. It would be good to make a difference once again. Nearby, Senior Special Agent Fredd was texting someone, her brow furrowed. The job never ended.
“Sasha?” a familiar voice called out. He turned to find Grigori walking toward him. Ruslan was at his side, his left arm in a sling.
“My dear friend,” Alex said, not caring who saw him shaking the hand of another ex-con. “Good to see you outside the walls.”
“It is good to see you as well, Sasha. I am pleased you have survived all that my family visited upon you.”
“The same could be said of you as well,” Alex replied. He looked at Ruslan. “How are you doing?”
“Better. And you?” the young man asked, gesturing toward Alex’s leg.
“It’s getting there. I don’t have to use the cane any longer.” He shot a look at the others, and saw Agent Fredd staring at them. Live with it. This man kept me alive.
“I was worried when I heard there’d been a hit on you,” he said to Grigori.
“It was a near thing, but fortunately, someone warned us that it was going down.” Grigori’s eyes had drifted to Crispin at this point. “It made all the difference.”
“Dennis called Crispin, didn’t he?”
“Yes. Paying off old debts is how it was explained to me.”
“Mikhail, is he okay?” Alex asked. “I miss him.”
“Da,” Grigori said. “He hopes you will visit him someday.”
“I intend to, as often as I’m allowed. He kept me sane all those years. And he taught me a lot of dirty Russian jokes.”
Grigori laughed. “He will be pleased to see you.” He looked at Ruslan now. “We were worried that some may object to us sitting in on your hearing, but I thought we should stop by long enough to wish you good luck.”
Alex felt the warmth behind the sentiment. “Thank you. I really appreciate that. Are you staying here in New Orleans or heading out somewhere new?”
“We are leaving later today. We’ll be going to the Mediterranean. Certainly not to our homeland.” Grigori reached over, took
hold of Ruslan’s hand, and squeezed it fondly. “We are not welcome there, not with Mr. Putin in power.”
Ruslan muttered a swear word under his breath.
“Who knows, maybe someday he won’t be,” Alex said.
“All things are possible,” Grigori replied. He set his lover’s hand free now. “We are headed to Malta first. I have always wanted to study the Knights Templar, and Ruslan will find much to photograph. You must come visit. Bring your lady. We’d be honored to have you stay with us.”
“You’re on,” Morgan said as she joined them. “Thank you for the invitation.”
Grigori broke out in a smile. “We shall look forward to it. Ms. Blake, it was good to finally meet you,” he said, inclining his head in respect.
“Please call me Morgan. And thank you for watching over Alex all those years,” she said. “He means everything to me.”
Grigori smiled, then shot a quick look at Ruslan. “I know how that is.”
Alex and Grigori embraced.
“Ee-deete ce Bogom,” Alex said. Go with God, my friend.
“And you as well,” the Russian replied.
The two men walked away, talking quietly among themselves. As they reached a set of doors, Grigori turned and waved. Morgan and Alex returned it.
“They look happy, like they belong together,” Morgan observed. She turned as the courtroom door opened. “It’s time. You ready?”
He took a very deep breath. “Let’s do it, lady.”
“No matter what, I love you,” she said.
“That’s all I need to know.”
Morgan could feel Alex vibrating with worry as they entered the courtroom. They sat at the defense table, and she opened her file, the one she’d spent the last week memorizing just in case the district attorney or the DEA decided to be difficult. She knew Alex probably had nothing to worry about, but she also knew that powerful people often played games with the truth to hide their own failings. Crispin had told her everything was on track, but until the judge delivered the verdict, it was all in the air.
Cat's Paw (Veritas Book 1) Page 31
