“Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Mendez. That’s exactly what happened to the Elite girls and pretty much confirms who we think are behind all of this.”
“And who would that be?”
“We think it’s the Russian mob.”
“Jesus! That’s the last thing I need. So what do we do now?”
“Just keep a close eye on your girls when they leave their homes. That’s when they’re being abducted. We’re working on a plan and we’ll be in touch soon.”
After I hung up, Keven turned to me. “So what’s this grand plan?”
“I have no idea. I was hoping you would think of something.”
“Great!” Kevin muttered. “The blind leading the blind.”
CHAPTER 5
Kevin came to the office bright and early. We were pretty sure we knew the who, the why and the how these girls were being abducted. Now we had to decide what we were going to do next.
Veronica had tagged along with him. She and Maggie had planned a girls day out.
We had just settled in and the girls were getting ready to leave when the phone rang.
“Walt, Bart James here. I just forwarded an email to you. There’s good news and bad news. All our girls are alive --- for now, but not for long if we don’t give in to their demands.”
I booted up my computer while he was talking.
Kevin, Veronica, Maggie and I crowded around the screen and watched a video clip that was attached to the email.
The camera focused on a stern-looking man, obviously of East European origin.
“My name is Demetri Roskov and I am about to propose a business plan to you. Should you accept, your escort service will become part of our organization. You will continue to operate as you have in the past, but you will report directly to me and 25% of your gross income, including the girl’s tips will be paid to me weekly. Should you choose to decline my offer, your escorts will continue to be abducted and executed.”
The camera panned to Candace Carter who was securely bound to a chair. There was no mistaking the fear in her eyes. “Bart and Emily, please do as they ask. They have Adriana and Dolly as well as girls from other escort services. If you don’t agree to their terms they’re going to kill us. Please, I don’t want to die. Adriana has a five year old son --- .”
The camera switched back to Roskov. “As you can see, I am not making idle threats. I will give you forty-eight hours to respond with your compliance. If I do not hear from you by then, we will execute our first hostage and then another every twenty-four hours.”
We all sat in stunned silence.
“Those bastards!” Veronica finally muttered.
I had forgotten Bart was still on the line. “Walt, Walt, are you there?”
“Yes, Bart, we’re here. Listen to me carefully. This is way bigger than Kevin and I can handle. We’re dealing with the Russian mob here. It’s time to go to the police.”
“But --- .”
“I know what you’re thinking, but we’re talking about those girls’ lives. I’m not talking about going to Vice. We need to get Organized Crime involved, and I’m sure that with the kidnappings, the FBI will also be in the picture. I’m going to Captain Short at my old precinct. He’ll know what to do. Please, just hang tight until I get back to you.”
As soon as I hung up, I called Captain Short and arranged a meeting with him and Captain Hank Gregson, the head of the Organized Crime Unit.
“I’m going too,” Veronica said, as we headed out the door. “Those are my friends out there and I know how the system works better than any of you.”
We both saw the determined look in her eyes and neither of us were inclined to tell her no.
When we arrived at the precinct, Captain Gregson and Agent Blackburn from the FBI were waiting in Captain Short’s office.
After making introductions, Captain Short said, “After viewing the email you forwarded to me, I gave Agent Blackburn a call.”
“I figured you would,” I replied.
“Jesus, Walt,” the Captain said, shaking his head. “I thought you were retired and just taking some easy P.I. cases. How did you get mixed up in all of this?”
“Why don’t I start from the beginning and tell you everything we know?”
For the next half hour I shared what we had seen and heard including the license number of the car that had tailed the driver and the address on Ward Parkway.
Captain Gregson left the room and returned moments later. “Both the car and the home on Ward Parkway are registered to a corporation which is no doubt a front for the Russian mob. With what Walt and Kevin have given us, we have enough for a warrant. As soon as it comes through, we’ll hit the place.”
“Not so fast,” Blackburn replied. “We’ve got another problem. We don’t know if they’re holding the girls at the Ward Parkway location. I’m betting they’re somewhere else. If we hit Ward Parkway and the girl’s aren’t there, we’ll be signing their death warrants. Whoever is holding them won’t leave any witnesses.”
“You’re right,” Gregson replied. “But how can we know where they’re holding the girls?”
The room was quiet for a moment, then Veronica spoke. “I have a way. Roskov said he would continue to abduct the girls until everyone complied. We need to make sure that none of the escort services set up any appointments except Elite. I’ll be the only girl out there, so if anyone is abducted, it will be me. You can watch and follow and see where they take me.”
“Hold on just a minute,” Kevin protested. “I can’t let you be bait for the Russian mob.”
“Sweetie, I appreciate your concern, but these are my friends and their lives may depend on finding their location. If this were Walt or Maggie being held by those bastards, what would you do?”
Kevin just nodded.
“It could work,” Blackburn said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do in forty-eight hours. Captain Gregson, you get started on those warrants. Let’s get those girls home and put those Russian bastards out of business.”
Kevin and I went to work contacting Bart James at Elite Escorts and Mario Mendez at Worldwide Escorts. Through them, we got the names and numbers of four more escort services operating in the Kansas City area.
All six of the services had lost girls and all six had received emails with the same message --- cooperate or your girls die. In all, the Russians had abducted and were holding ten girls.
We explained our plan and all six agreed to play along. None of them would schedule appointments for the evening except Elite.
Veronica’s date was, of course, a sham. We had Otto pick her up at the Crown Center Shops and take her to the Hotel Phillips on Twelfth Street at seven o’clock, where she hung out with a friend who worked there.
At eight, Otto picked her up and drove her to her apartment.
Just as before, the grey Ford sedan trailed Otto to Veronica’s apartment and paused long enough to write down her address.
Kevin and I had been keeping an eye on the operation from a distance and, as usual, our car was stocked with snacks and a thermos of coffee to enjoy while we were on surveillance.
I had just poured a steaming cup of coffee when it felt like someone had plunged a knife into my back. Involuntarily I jerked, sloshing the scalding liquid into my lap. Suddenly, my back was killing me and poor Mr. Winkie was crying out in pain. I couldn’t decide which hurt the worst.
“Holy crap, Walt!” Kevin exclaimed as I jumped out of the car and unzipped my pants. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I just stood there doubled over with my pants around my ankles until the pain in my back subsided.
I did notice that several cars slowed down to see what the old man with his ass hanging out was up to.
“Towel, napkins --- something!” I groaned.
Kevin handed me a wad of napkins. “For chrissakes, Walt. Get in the car. You’re going to blow our cover.”
I dabbed my crotch as best I could, pulled up my pants and climbed back in
the car.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Sorry! You scared the crap out of me. What was that all about?”
I knew exactly what it was about. I had just experienced a kidney stone attack and it hurt like hell. Three years ago I had another stone. I went to Doc Johnson. He had me pee in a cup and get a cat scan. He said I had a 2mm stone. He gave me a prescription for some pain medication and told me to go home and drink a lot and pee a lot. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, but eventually the little bugger came out.
“Kidney stone,” I replied, trying my best to compose myself.
“Yuk,” Kevin grimaced. “Been there, done that. Want me to take you home?”
It was about that time that Veronica emerged from the Phillips.
“No, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
After following Otto and the grey sedan to Veronica’s apartment, we knew nothing more was going to happen until she left her apartment the next morning, so we called it a night.
I had told Kevin that I would be fine, but I wasn’t. I had two more attacks during the night, scaring the bejesus out of Maggie.
Lousy timing. I needed to be at the top of my game the next day, but I was far from it.
As part of our grand plan, Agent Blackburn had given Veronica a tiny tracking device to sew into the lining of her jogging suit. If and when she was abducted, the Feds would track her to where they were holding the girls.
Once that location was known, SWAT would hit it and the Ward Parkway house simultaneously.
At six A.M., the Feds in one car and Kevin and I in another, were parked where we could see the entrance to Veronica’s building.
At eight o’clock she emerged and started jogging toward Loose Park. Not wanting to spook the Ruskies, we hung back, relying on the tracking device to keep tabs on her progress.
When she reached the park, she took the concrete path that led to the Rose Garden. We cruised along Wornall Road keeping her bright blue jogging suit in sight.
Just as she reached the Rose Garden parking lot, a black mini-van pulled up beside her. Two men jumped out, put a bag over her head and shoved her into the van. The van sped away, heading toward the Country Club Plaza.
The Feds had given us a radio so we could hear what was happening. They had seen the abduction and were tracking the van.
The radio crackled. “The van is proceeding north on Sunset Drive. They just turned east on Ward Parkway. Now they’re going north on toward the Southwest Trafficway. Hold on a minute. They’ve stopped on Westport Road. Still not moving --- still not moving. That must be where they’re holding the girls, one of the apartments along Westport Road. We can pinpoint the exact location when we’re closer. Ward Parkway Unit, don’t hit the house until we confirm the girls are there.”
Kevin headed toward Westport Road.
We were almost there when the radio crackled again. “We’re just a block from where the signal is broadcasting. Should be there any minute.”
Silence. Then, “Shit!! The signal is coming from a dumpster. The jogging suit is in a damn dumpster! We’ve lost them!”
I looked at Keven figuring he was about to have a coronary, but he just smiled.
“Why are you grinning? We’ve lost Veronica!”
“No, they’ve lost Veronica. I haven’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t suppose you noticed, but in the email video, the girls were wearing some kind of loose-fitting garments like hospital scrubs. I figured they were making the girls ditch their clothing. These Ruskies aren’t dummies.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Do you really have to ask? Have you ever tried reasoning with the Fibbies when then have their minds made up?”
He had a point.
“So what now?”
“We track her with this,” he said, pulling a small screen about the size of a cell phone from his pocket. “She had an RFID chip implanted in her back. After we started dating and while she was still working for Elite, I convinced her to have the thing implanted. What those girls do is risky. There are a lot of really sick bastards out there. I just didn’t want anything to happen to her.”
I was quite familiar with the RFID chip. On one assignment, Ox and I were to pick up a Mexican dignitary and his family from the airport and stay with them until they returned home. As fate would have it, their son, Julio, was abducted for ransom.
Diego explained that there are over ten thousand kidnappings a year in Mexico. Families that can afford it, have RFID chips implanted in their children in case they become victims. Using a tracker like the one Kevin was holding, we found little Julio and returned him safe and sound to his parents.
He handed me the receiver. “Just follow the blip. It’s like the GPS in your car.”
The red blip was heading north on Southwest Trafficway.
“Call it in,” Kevin ordered. “Let’s get that SWAT team headed in the right direction.”
I made the call and after a brief explanation, was told that the SWAT guys would follow our directions. They were about ten minutes behind us.
“They’re going west on the Twelfth Street Viaduct. Looks like they’re heading for the west bottoms.”
We had just come off the viaduct when the blip came to a halt.
“Looks like they’ve stopped on Mulberry Street. Probably one of the old warehouses.”
Kevin had just turned on Mulberry when the radio crackled. It was the leader of the SWAT team on Ward Parkway.
“We’ve been made. The Russians are scattering like cockroaches. We have to go ---NOW!”
Kevin grabbed the mike. “Not yet! The girls aren’t secure!”
“Sorry,” came the reply. “If we don’t go now, they’ll get away. Do what you have to do over there.”
“Damn!” Kevin said, banging his fist on the steering wheel.
“There,” I said, pointing to an old warehouse. “The signal is coming from in there.”
On the side of the building was an overhead garage door and a smaller entry door.
“Think you can pick the lock on that entry door?” I asked.
“Probably could,” he replied, “but there’s no time for that. Roskov has undoubtedly called his men inside and told them to tie up the loose ends. We have to get in there now. Fasten your seatbelt and hold on.”
Kevin put the pedal to the metal and headed straight for the overhead door.”
“Holy Crap! Surely you’re not --- !”
Before I could finish my sentence, we hit the metal door.
Thankfully it was old and probably rusty. It gave way with a thundering ‘CRASH.’
Across the warehouse, we saw Veronica on her knees and one of the goons was holding a gun to the back of her head.
Startled, he looked up and saw our car coming straight at him.
It all happened in a split second. When he raised his gun and pointed it in our direction, Veronica rolled out of the way. He fired two shots, striking and shattering our windshield. We both ducked and Kevin never took his foot off the gas. Before the shooter could get off another round, our grill struck him squarely in the gut. Kevin applied the brakes and the car screeched to a halt just as it hit the far wall. The Russian, nearly cut in two, collapsed on our hood.
The ten girls, seeing one of the perps out of commission, turned on the remaining Russian and attacked him like a school of piranhas. It wasn’t pretty.
They had just finished exacting their revenge when the SWAT team showed up.
After order was restored, Kevin came looking for me and found me doubled over in pain.
“Walt! Are you hit?”
“No,” I muttered.
“Were you hurt in the crash?”
I shook my head.
“Well what then?”
“Kidney stone,” I mumbled, and passed out.
CHAPTER 6
The operation had been a success.
After a wild west type shootout at the Ward P
arkway address, Demetri Roskov and his lieutenants were arrested. At the old warehouse, the goon that Kevin t-boned was a goner and the other one was in critical condition after the girls had their way with him.
With all of the girls safely released and the Russian mob out of business, we were able to put another checkmark in the success column of Walt Williams Investigations.
Thankfully, the only casualty on the good guy’s side was me. The attacks of searing pain from the kidney stone became more frequent and I found myself doubling over in pain almost every hour.
“Time to go see Doc Johnson,” I muttered after a particularly painful episode.
“Won’t do any good,” Kevin replied. “If that thing was going to come out, it would have happened by now. All your doc can do is give you pain pills and refer you to a urologist.”
He pulled a card out of his pocket. “Here, give these guys a call and get an appointment. They’re really great and can handle your problem.”
I took the card. It read, ‘Advanced Urologic Associates.’ There was a list of eight doctors, an address and a phone number. I figured Kevin knew what he was doing since he not only had kidney stones, but a kidney transplant as well.
Frankly, I was hurting so much, I would probably have gone to see a witch doctor if I thought it would help.
I picked up the phone and made the call.
Maggie drove me to my appointment. I vividly remembered what happened with the cup of hot coffee when an attack hit me, and I didn’t want a similar occurrence with my hand on the steering wheel, going fifty miles an hour in heavy traffic.
I signed in and when my name was called, a sweet little gal led me and Maggie to an office where she took my height, weight, temperature and blood pressure. Then she handed me one of those ridiculous gowns where your ass hangs out the back, told me to put it on, then handed me a plastic cup.
“Urine sample,” she said, pointing to the bathroom.
I did as I was told and returned to the exam room which was as cold as a meat locker. As I climbed onto the exam table, I couldn’t help wondering how many other bare butts had occupied that space before me. I looked around for a bottle of Lysol spray disinfectant, but didn’t see any. Thankfully, there was paper covering the table, so I climbed aboard.
Lady Justice and the Broken Hearts Page 3
