by Jonas Saul
“Why goodwill?”
“Because Yuri is pissed with all the raids happening in his territory …”
“The raids you told me about?”
John nodded.
“Wow, I’m happy to see the RCMP working with the FBI. It looks like progress is taking place.”
“They have to do something because Ontario’s primary multi-force organized crime agency, Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit, is being reorganized and possibly dismantled soon. Without the RCMP and the FBI working together on this, nothing would be getting done.”
Darwin gestured. “Get me back to Rosina.”
“My source said that Yuri is keeping her safe and healthy until he can confirm you’re dead. You know, in case he needs her to get to you. Sorry, but that’s my best guess. Since there’s a publication ban on what happened at the warehouse and who died there, no one on the street has confirmation about you. As far as the street knows, you just disappeared.”
Darwin dropped back onto the bed. Would it ever end? How could a known Russian Mafia boss named Yuri Pavel be able to parade Darwin’s wife around like a trophy and the law did nothing about it?
“What’s being done about it?” Darwin asked.
“What do you mean?”
Darwin glared at him. “How can he have her and no one arrest him?”
“As far as the law is concerned, she’s with him willingly. She comes and goes without restraints nor does she call out for help. Based on that, there’s nothing we can do.”
“But she doesn’t want to be with him.”
“I know that. You know that. Yuri has something on her to make her so compliant. Maybe she’s waiting to see if you died. Then she’ll decide what to do. Who knows?”
“You have no idea how fucked this is.”
“True, but there’s something you can do about it.”
Darwin kicked his legs out from under the covers and slipped off the bed. He steadied himself.
“You want the crutches?”
“No.”
He took a step. Then another, using the bed for support. At the end of the bed, he let go and on unsteady legs made it across the room to the closet without falling.
“Tell me what I can do about it while I get dressed.”
“You can go get her.”
“That’s what I plan on doing.”
“But you don’t get discharged until tomorrow,” John said.
“Wrong. I’m leaving now. My head’s fine. My legs will support me. I’m ready.”
“What do you think you can do in your condition? You’re unsteady. You can barely walk.”
“I can go and get my wife,” Darwin said as he let the hospital gown slip off his shoulders and hit the floor. “I will get Rosina and we will leave North America. That’s the only way for this madness to stop.”
“Darwin, if you walk into Yuri’s restaurant alone, he will kill you. Actually,” John gestured with both hands in the air, “if you walk in with backup, they will probably kill you and your backup.”
Darwin slipped the T-shirt over his head and started on his jeans. “Then tell me what options I have.”
“File a missing persons report for Rosina with the FBI. Explain that you have an unnamed source confirming Rosina is being held against her will with Yuri Pavel.”
“And you think the FBI will help us? After all that has happened?”
John looked at the floor. “Right, sorry.”
Darwin finished dressing and walked to the door. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”
“Wait a second,” John said as he walked up to Darwin. “You can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re in protective custody.”
“Protective custody? Have I been charged with a crime?”
“No.”
“Then you and I both know that they can’t hold me.”
“True, but charges are pending.”
“No, they’re only holding them over my head until I give them a statement and everything calms down. We all know the Russian Mafia attacked the safe house where Greg and Carson were holding my wife. At the same time that was happening, Arkady planned my execution. I got away and Arkady blew up his warehouse. That’s it in a nutshell. I’m a free man. Haven’t Rosina and I been persecuted enough?”
“Look, I’m with you, man. But even if you walked out of this hospital and made it to the restaurant, Yuri would have you dead before sunrise. I can’t have that on my conscience.”
“John.” Darwin put a hand on John’s shoulder. “I’m leaving in the morning or I’m leaving now. What’s the difference? They can only hold me so long. I’m a Canadian citizen and can go freely.” He let go of John’s shoulder. “Is this source of yours reliable?”
“He is.”
“I have information on the whereabouts of my wife. Do you think I would just let it go?”
John shook his head.
“Exactly,” Darwin said. “What’s the name of the restaurant?”
“The Russian Quartet at Queen and Jarvis. He flies Russian singers in to entertain all the time. It’s famous because it’s one of the few Russian restaurants that has entertainment.” As a side note, he added, “I’ve lived here all my life. Actually grew up off Jarvis Street, not five blocks from there.”
“It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from here. Maybe twenty minutes for me.” Darwin waited, holding the door handle. He lowered his voice. “What am I to expect when I walk by the guy outside this door?”
“Won’t happen. He’ll call it in to the FBI and they’ll ask to have you detained until they get back.”
“Well, I’m leaving. Are you going to help me, or do I have to do this all by myself?”
They stared at each other for a long moment. John broke the silence.
“I’ll get him to take a piss break. Then you walk out. When he comes back I’ll ask if he saw you exercising your legs. All I know is you went out for a walk to circle the floor. That’ll give you the time it takes for the man to piss. Can you get out of the hospital in the time it takes a man to piss?”
Darwin nodded. “Do it. And thanks.”
John shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re thinking of doing, but I can’t see it working out for you.”
“That’s my concern. Just get that cop off my door.”
John moved around Darwin to open the door and then stopped. He pulled a piece of metal out of his back pocket.
“Here, take this.”
Darwin took the proffered brass knuckles. “Why do you have these?”
“Don’t worry about that. I took them off some punk yesterday. I’ve carried them around since and thought maybe you could use them. It might help if you get in trouble. Just make sure there’s a lot of people wherever you are. Yuri won’t shoot you in front of too many witnesses. Once you get Rosina, he’ll send people to follow you. Lose the tail and you’re free.”
They let one last look pass between them.
“I don’t agree with this,” John said. “But good luck.”
John opened the door and stepped out. Darwin waited by bouncing from one foot to the other, getting his legs moving and ready for the walk. This was his chance. Rosina was close. He would walk in, get her from the restaurant and walk out. If anyone stepped in his way he would shout fire or pull the fire alarm or call the police beforehand or just wait until she leaves the table to go to the bathroom. Whatever happened, he was going to get his wife.
The door opened and John stepped back inside the room.
“He’s on the phone. As soon as his call is done, he said I could cover him for a bathroom break.”
“Okay.”
“That gives me a chance to tell you about a case we had five years ago.” He paused, cleared his throat. “A stupid man, who didn’t realize what he was doing, threatened Yuri in front of his soldiers once.”
“And.”
“They grabbed his wife at home and poured sulfuric acid on her face,
burning her eyes out. The twenty-four-year old model’s face turned to a wrinkled, burned up glob. As far as I know she committed suicide a year later after plastic surgery failed to allow her to go out in public again.”
“Brutal. Horrible. How is it men like Yuri aren’t in prison or dead?”
“That’s not all.”
“What?”
“Part of the man was found in a field in Hamilton and the other parts were found in his car’s trunk.”
“You mean they dismembered him?”
John’s face hardened. “Not exactly.”
“Then what?” Darwin stopped bouncing and sat in the chair.
“About thirty pounds of flesh was cut off the man while he was still alive. Before that, a blowtorch was applied to his face and his genitals. After burning his cock and balls off, they shoved them inside his burned mouth. He was suspended to the side of a barn with wire where he was blinded by the blow torch and tortured for several days before they finally shot him fifty times. All that because he threatened Yuri.” John leaned against the door, a hand on his stomach. “This is what they do.”
“Then maybe I should walk into the restaurant and kill him. He deserves to die.”
“Sure, but then you spend the rest of your life in prison.”
“Might be better than spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.”
“You won’t survive prison. The Mafia has the prison system sewn up. You get inside for offing Yuri and you’ll be knifed within the first week.”
“Thanks for being so bleak. You’re a pal.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Coming,” John said. To Darwin, he said, “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent.”
John slipped out the door. A moment later, Darwin heard John’s knock.
He opened the door.
“You’ve got maybe four or five minutes. Staircase is over there.” John pointed to the exit sign.
Darwin walked by him, hit the stairs and made it to the main floor without encountering anyone. He opened the stairwell door slowly and stepped out. The hallway was empty, the gift shop already closed. He walked toward the exit sign where the emergency doors led outside.
Once outside, he fluffed his hair up and kept his head down as he walked, and sometimes limped, south on University Avenue toward Queen Street.
He was quickly lost in downtown Toronto’s evening foot traffic, but one thing kept nagging at him.
Why would John, an RCMP officer, carry brass knuckles on him? Could that be part of their police inventory, like handcuffs?
Something told Darwin it wasn’t.
Chapter 4
Darwin passed Yonge Street and continued along Queen, moving slower, his right leg cramping. He leaned against a building to rest. Then he hobbled over to a bus stop and sat on the bench, leaning his shoulder against the Plexiglas shelter.
The night air was almost still, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the small city-planted trees. A horn honked somewhere. Someone who had too much to drink hollered in the distance to his left. A tire squealed.
The sounds of the city.
He breathed slowly and focused on what he needed to do.
“I have no fucking idea,” he said to himself.
There really was nothing he could do. How could he walk into the Russian Mafia’s restaurant and take his wife, their guest, out with him? How many men would be guarding Yuri? How many men would be outside watching the door for law enforcement types? This was hopeless and useless.
But this was all he had. Rosina was all he had. Knowing she would be in the restaurant, half a block from him, he had no choice. Nothing could keep him from walking through that door.
God had kept him in one piece so far. He only needed this one more play.
He collected himself and got up. As he shuffled down the sidewalk, a young couple passed him, laughing. He longed for moments like that with Rosina. It had been a while since they shared a laugh together. Rome a few months ago? The safe house in Florida?
He remembered their wedding day and yearned to hold her like he did that night.
A wave of anger coursed through him and caused goose bumps to rise on his arms. Ever since their honeymoon, the Italian Mafia and now the Russian Mafia had been trying to kill them. He had been forced to kill people to stay alive. The things he’d seen would never leave him. He was scarred for life, as was Rosina.
“No more,” he said as the restaurant came into view.
The front window was lit up with bright lights from the inside and a neon open sign shone in the top right corner of the window. No one milled about the front door. He’d expected a Russian Mafia type in an expensive suit standing guard.
He studied the area. Three people walked east along Queen Street and one man walked toward him on his side of the street. Other than that, the walking traffic here had died down and Darwin didn’t see anyone else within a city block.
Cars drove by, but nothing looked out of the ordinary.
If John’s source was accurate, which Darwin was willing to bet he was, Yuri would have no reason to expect Darwin to show up. Which probably meant Yuri would treat tonight like any other night, not expecting trouble.
As John said, what could the cops do? The restaurant was probably legit. The guests inside would order food, eat, and leave. Everything looked as normal as it should be, but Darwin wouldn’t become complacent.
Yuri had to expect trouble if he was harboring Rosina Kostas. She was supposed to be in Florida, tucked away in a safe house, but that safe house was recently attacked and a federal agent was killed and another shot.
Darwin stopped across the street from the restaurant.
Wouldn’t the cops want to talk to Rosina? Get a statement of what happened in Florida?
Why would John say there was nothing the authorities could do?
Unless Rosina wasn’t here and this was all a ruse.
Could John have sold me to the Russians?
Doubt stopped him. He reached back and touched the brass knuckles in his pocket for reassurance. It had been almost two weeks since he’d had to fight. He couldn’t keep risking his life. It made him think of the stitches in his scalp which started to itch.
Won’t they be pissed that I walked out of the hospital?
He smiled as he slipped the brass knuckles on his right hand. It felt good, bolstering his resolve.
He was ready.
He stepped out of the shadows. Two Toronto police officers walked along Queen Street toward Yonge. They would pass the Russian restaurant before Darwin got there.
He waited.
They got closer. To his surprise, they stopped, opened the door of the restaurant and walked inside The Russian Quartet.
“Thank you, God. That’s perfect.”
No one would touch him with cops inside the joint.
He waited for vehicles to pass and hobbled across the road, his legs feeling much better. He just hoped he wasn’t too early and Yuri wasn’t there yet. One of Yuri’s men might recognize Darwin. Would Yuri show up with Rosina if that happened? Probably not.
What does Yuri Pavel look like anyway? He chastised himself for not asking John such a simple question.
He made it to the window and stopped to peek in past the small white curtain on the inside. The place looked like any other restaurant. A waiter served an older couple halfway down by the end of the bar. Darwin counted ten people, plus the two cops and the waiter. Couples occupied three tables. Three other tables had single men ranging in age from early twenties to fifties. The one in his fifties faced the front of the restaurant reading a newspaper. The bartender was talking to the police officers. They laughed. It looked like one of the cops told a joke.
Near the back was a small stage with speakers and a small drum set arranged in the middle for the performers.
Rosina was nowhere in sight.
She could be in the bathroom, but he doubted it. If Yuri was the man sitting alo
ne reading the newspaper—he actually looked Russian—it was clear he hadn’t come with any sort of security.
Everyone had a plate of food. The waiter walked through a door that appeared to lead into the kitchen. Everything looked absolutely normal, although Darwin had no idea what a traditional Russian restaurant was supposed to look like.
