Wild Card
Page 23
“So how does that help us?”
“The way I see it, Vasnetsov knows everything that Alexandrov does. We have Vasnetsov turn on Alexandrov, admit that the old Russian had Sullivan’s family killed, and help us nail him.”
“Dale, whatever you’ve been smoking, either stop it, or share it. Do you not remember the Russian we ran down earlier today? He ate a bullet before we had a chance to bring him in. What makes you think Vasnetsov won’t do the same? These guys have dedicated their lives to Alexandrov.”
Dale sorted through the pictures in Jimmy’s hands before stopping and jabbing his finger at one of a thick-torsoed man with a shaved scalp. “That’s the reason.”
“Who’s that?”
“Dmitry Vasnetsov, Anatoly’s little brother. Dmitry is serving two life sentences in ADX Florence.”
Jimmy whistled. “Really?”
ADX Florence was the only supermax prison in the United States federal system. It was located in Florence, Colorado and housed inmates with a history of violent behavior in other prisons, with the goal of moving them from solitary confinement for twenty-three hours a day to a less restrictive prison within three years. It wasn’t working for Vasnetsov.
“We offer Vasnetsov a deal: turn states evidence against Alexandrov and we can have his brother transferred to a minimum security prison, with a shortened sentence.”
“You don’t have the credentials to pull that off.”
Dale smiled. “Vasnetsov doesn’t know that.”
“How long have you been planning this?”
“Ever since we ran through Alexandrov’s KAs. When I saw Vasnetsov’s name, I thought it rang a bell. Sure enough, when I looked up the prison IDs, I hit pay dirt. This might be our only chance, and I’ve been holding it close to my chest, waiting for the right time to play the card.”
Dale waited for Jimmy to say something, maybe a quick, smartass comeback, but he didn’t.
“There’s Vasnetsov,” Dale said, pointing to the front of the prison.
A slouched-back Russian, in a wool overcoat and hat, walked slowly to a burgundy Honda Accord, got in and pulled out of the prison parking lot. They followed closely behind as the Russian drove under the speed limit.
“Let’s pull him over and get a feel for him.”
When they reached the open road, Dale pulled up beside the Russian’s small car and Jimmy flashed his badge out the window. Vasnetsov pulled his vehicle to the side.
Both Dale and Jimmy got out of their car and approached the driver’s side door.
Vasnetsov put down his window. “What’s the problem?” he asked, in a heavy Russian accent.
Dale showed the Russian his badge. “Mr. Vasnetsov, I’m Detective Dayton, this is my partner, Detective Mason.”
Vasnetsov looked at the badges in their hand and nodded. “Las Vegas. You’ve come a long way.”
“We’d like you to come to the station to answer some questions.”
“About what?”
“Vladimir Alexandrov’s involvement in the murder of Steve Sullivan, his wife, and his two children.”
Vasnetsov stared straight ahead, looking out the front windshield. His face remained wooden. “I know nothing about that. And I have nothing more to say.”
Dale looked at Jimmy, who shrugged and shook his head.
“I think Dmitry would want you to meet with us,” Dale said.
This time the Russian looked at Dale. “What do you know about my brother?”
Dale placed his hands on the window ledge and leaned inside the car. “You give us Alexandrov for the Sullivan murders, I can see to it that your brother is transferred to another prison with a reduced sentence.”
Vasnetsov grunted. “My brother was found guilty of three separate murders of your American peoples. Your system made sure he wouldn’t see the light of day again. Why would I believe that a Vegas detective could change any of that?”
“Of course, there would be some conditions. In exchange for your testimony, once your brother is released from his new minimum security prison, you both leave the country and never come back.”
The Russian hesitated, and Dale could tell he considered the offer, whether it was real or not.
“Your brother’s a young man, with a long life in front of him. Alexandrov is an old man near death anyway,” Dale said.
“If I do this, Dmitry and I can’t go back to Mother Russia. We would have to go to another country.”
“We could make that happen.”
“I want to see all of this on paper.”
“Then follow us.”
They went back to their vehicles and jumped in.
“I can’t believe this is going to work,” Jimmy said.
“It hasn’t worked yet.”
“So, what are we gonna do with Vasnetsov?”
Dale started the car and pulled onto the road. He checked his rear-view mirror to make sure that Vasnetsov was following. “How far is it to the White Pine County Courthouse?” he asked Jimmy.
Jimmy punched some digits into his iPhone. “According to the GPS, it’s about twelve miles, thirty-three minutes with traffic.”
“Call the County Sheriff’s Department and have two deputies meet us outside. Let them know that we’re bringing in Vasnetsov. We’ll need a room cleared so we can work on the Russian.”
♣
They got out of their car and watched Vasnetsov pull into a spot beside them. Dale and Jimmy both rushed to Vasnetsov’s door and opened it for him, waiting for the Russian to climb out.
“The papers better be ready,” Vasnetsov said coldly. He got out of his car and looked around. He pulled his hat down low over his eyes, flipped up his collar to cover the bottom of his face, and allowed the detectives to lead him. He had a pronounced limp.
Dale had never been to the courthouse, located on a hilltop near the commercial section of Ely. The two-story white stone building was crowned by a small copper cupola.
Dale knew that there was a two-story jail built in the back of the building and he hoped it would be vacant in order to hold Vasnetsov.
Dale and Jimmy sandwiched Vasnetsov, each holding one of his wrists, and led him towards the building. Dale didn’t see either of the deputies they’d requested waiting outside, and the detective quietly swore under his breath.
As they headed towards the front entrance, a man approaching on the sidewalk stopped in front of them. He said something in Russian, and then pulled a gun from his coat. Before Dale could react, Vasnetsov was dead.
Dale and Jimmy both dove to the ground, grabbing for their firearms. Dale turned back in time to see the gunman put the pistol into his own mouth and squeeze the trigger.
Book Three: Dark Horse
Chapter 19
After giving their statements to the White Pine County Sheriff’s Department deputies, Dale and Jimmy were released, flew back to Vegas and sat at their desks in the precinct.
They were quiet, absorbing what they’d witnessed. Dale still had dried blood spatter from Vasnetsov on his shirt and face, which he hadn’t yet taken the time to wipe or clean.
They’d found out later that the deputies had been waiting inside the courtroom, so there was no way they could have reacted in time to stop the gunman. Dale made sure to let their captain know about his displeasure with the deputies’ incompetence.
“So, what are we going to do about Alexandrov?” Jimmy asked. His tie hung loose with the top button of his collar undone.
“I honestly have no idea. You’ve seen his men twice now in action.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Ever since Alexandrov had threatened Dale’s family, a thought had been sitting at the back of the detective’s mind—a means to an end. He thought even more about it on the flight back after watching another one of Alexandrov’s men kill himself. But he still wasn’t ready to tell Jimmy.
“Unbelievable.” Jimmy looked disgusted.
“Do we know who that guy was yet?”
“No ID on him,
they’re still searching. But we do know what he said in Russian before turning the gun on Vasnetsov.”
“This is for the family,” Dale said, not looking at Jimmy.
“These guys are insane. How did they know about Vasnetsov?”
Dale shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his temples. He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop a headache that was fast approaching. “Who knows? They could have a deputy in their pocket, they could have heard our report on a police scanner, or they could have someone watching the prison and saw Vasnetsov following us.”
“Alexandrov seems like an untouchable, even from inside the prison.”
“I thought something would come up, but Alexandrov and his guys are clean on paper. They’ve been getting away with crime for so long that they know exactly how to cover their tracks and not get caught. Our bluff had no effect on him whatsoever.”
Dale ran a hand over his stubbled face and stared at his third cup of coffee. He was tired of thinking about Alexandrov. The man was scum, the lowest form of it, and already in prison serving life. Even if they had concrete evidence that Alexandrov was behind the Sullivan murders, which they didn’t, what would happen? A trial that would take years to come to order, and a hefty sum for taxpayers. Alexandrov wasn’t going anywhere.
“So, are we just going to let him get away with it?”
“I don’t know, Jimmy. Sullivan’s family deserves justice, but is it really worth wasting time and resources on convicting a permanent prisoner? What will we achieve by proving Alexandrov did it?” Dale let out a breath. “Chalk it up to just another unsolved murder, even though we know who did it.”
“This doesn’t sound like you, Dale. I remember when Baxter was taken away from us for his court-martial with the military. Baxter escaped civilian justice and I almost had to hold you back from attacking Hughes right there in the hospital.”
Dale didn’t say anything, but he wanted to tell Jimmy so much more, tell him his idea—but he couldn’t. They sat in silence.
“What are you thinking?” Jimmy eyed Dale.
He almost said it, but didn’t, definitely not out loud, anyway. Instead he said, “We have nowhere to go, so let’s go all the way back to the beginning, when this whole thing started.”
“Shawn Grant?”
Dale nodded. “Shawn Grant. I’d like to nail that slimy cockroach.”
“Any ideas on how we can do that?”
Dale nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about this ever since we found that cellphone in Doug Grant’s house.”
They made the short drive to the LVMPD evidence storage facility located in a sub-basement locker room in an old building on Technology Court, just off Spectrum Boulevard. They’d called ahead so the man working the cage was waiting for them.
“What are we looking for today, Detectives?” the clerk asked.
“The Grant evidence,” Dale responded.
Jimmy gave Dale a look.
The clerk said, “The Grant case? Isn’t that closed?”
“Yep.”
“Good luck, that box has been dead and buried.”
The retention schedule for homicide evidence was indefinite, which meant that the evidence was kept even if a case was closed, because the probability of an appeal was always high and they needed access. And Sanders’ lawyers took advantage of every appeal in the book.
They went into the back storage room where cabinets and shelves were layered with marked boxes, files and folders. All of the bags marked and labeled with case numbers, dates, times and details of where everything had been recovered.
They buried themselves in evidence for over an hour until they came across the Grant box, sealed and stuffed on the back of a shelf. Because the Grant case was closed and there was no more need for it, it had been placed in an area where it wouldn’t be in the way.
They pulled everything from police transcripts of wire-tapped phone calls to audio tapes of witness interviews, and took it all back to their desks at the department. Dale slit the box open and looked inside.
“Are you gonna tell me what we’re searching for?” Jimmy looked over Dale’s shoulder into the box.
Dale rummaged through the box and pulled out about a dozen mini audio cassettes.
“The Linda Grant tapes?” Jimmy’s eyebrows arched. “What are you gonna do with them?”
“Tech guys.” Dale took the tapes and led Jimmy across the room.
“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Jimmy seemed perturbed but Dale was too excited to answer.
Dale picked up the pace and hurried into the back audio/visual room. A couple of nerdy-looking tech guys sat in front of large audio systems. They both wore oversized ear phones and scribbled in notepads.
Dale tapped one on the shoulder and waited for him to remove the headset.
“What’s up, Detective?” The techie had a nasal voice and thick glasses.
“You guys busy?”
He shook his head. “Just routine cold case stuff. Background noises, out-of-place sounds, etcetera. Nothing that can’t wait.”
Dale pulled a piece of paper from his pants’ pocket. He hadn’t yet shown Jimmy, or let him in on what he was thinking, so he knew his partner was just as curious as the tech guys. And maybe even a little annoyed.
Dale placed the tapes on the counter.
“These are wire taps from Linda Grant’s phone, evidence recovered under warrant. We found nothing criminal from Linda’s phone conversations, but she did make a lot of calls, spoke to a lot of different people and said many different things.”
“What do you want us to do with them?” One of the techies picked up a tape and examined it. “Linda is dead and the case is closed. Are you trying to pin something on her from the grave?” The tech smiled, but Dale wasn’t interested in nerdy, tech-talk jokes.
Dale handed him the paper.
“Those are the sentences I’d like you to put together from Linda’s voice on the taps. Can that be done?”
The young tech shrugged. “Sure. If she uses these words in her conversations, should be easy-peasy.”
Jimmy snatched the paper from the tech’s hand. “Let me see that.” He looked it over, shaking his head. He looked at Dale and smiled. “Really?”
Dale smiled back. “Worth a try.”
♣
Calvin sat on his haunches in the rain watching Livia’s chest rise and fall. Her breathing had steadied. When he checked her pulse, it had returned to normal. She looked to be on the mend, but Calvin was no doctor and wasn’t taking any chances.
His meds had worn off. Sharp pains now shot through Calvin’s leg every few seconds, which spawned involuntary beads of sweat on the black man’s scalp. The cool rain falling on his face did nothing to help. He had no doubt now that the wound was infected. But he pushed the pain away, focusing on Livia and her condition.
The sun had fallen long ago, and because it was so dark in the middle of the rain forest, he had a tiny flashlight he’d been using to watch her closely for the last hour, while listening to ATVs drive back and forth. They were well-hidden within the bushes, and nobody had any reason to stop and check the surroundings.
Her sleep had been restless, constant twitching and fidgeting. Calvin wasn’t sure just what kind of demons she battled, or if it was the spider poison working its way through her body, but she was agitated.
He’d kept the cloth on her head, replenishing it with cold water from a bottle every ten minutes. He didn’t have a thermometer, but with his hand he could feel that her body temperature was going down.
As he sat there watching Livia, he thought of Rachel. Her smile, the smell of her hair, the feel of her soft skin. The way she laughed, and how gentle her touch was, brought him comfort out here.
He missed her. As much as he enjoyed the attention from pretty girls on occasion, he always knew that he held a deep, devoted love for her, that went down to his inner core. But being away from her, in this strange country, made him miss her even more.
He couldn’t wait to see her again, and he wasn’t going to let anyone or anything get in the way of that happening. Calvin could feel his pulse rise with determination, and hoped that it wasn’t the infection taking over his thoughts.
With a sudden burst, Livia sat straight up, releasing a deep breath. Calvin sprung to her side in a great deal of pain, covering her mouth with his hand in case a nightmare caused a sudden scream.
She looked at him, and he held his hand firmly to her mouth until she caught her bearings, and realized where she was. It took a few seconds for her wide, fear-riddled eyes to narrow and her nose-breathing to slow.
She nodded and gently pulled his hand off her mouth.
Calvin backed away and sat down. “How are you feeling?” he whispered.
She looked around, as if still trying to understand where she was. She looked down at her unbuttoned shirt, revealing her black-laced bra.
“You trying to take advantage of me while I sleep?”
The PI wasn’t sure if she was serious or not, but then she smiled, buttoning her shirt back up. He’d tried to put it on her while she’d slept but he hadn’t wanted to wake her. He’d done the best he could under the circumstances.
Calvin smiled. “Sounds like you’re feeling better.”
“How long was I out?”
“Hours.”
“I feel fine.”
“You should probably get a tetanus shot, but that won’t happen anytime soon.”
Livia looked overhead and saw Calvin’s shirt outstretched and strung across a couple of branches, blocking the rain from falling on her. She smiled. “How long has it been raining?”