by John Mackie
“I’m here to see Maxim Legenko.”
She paused, looking at me, but I felt like being difficult.
“I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Legenko is on leave. Is this a leasing matter, or…?”
Made sense. Guess it’s a bit hard to continue as CEO of a public company when you’re the subject of an ongoing criminal trial.
“How about Elena Legenko? Is she in?”
It was amazing. No change in facial expression at all. She could have been a computer-generated hologram, for all I knew. A computer-generated hologram with a very large mole at the corner of her mouth. Not a Cindy Crawford mole, either. Think creepy cleaning lady mole.
“Is Ms. Legenko expecting you?”
“No. Tell her it’s about Niki Kuzmenko and her husband.”
That seemed to get her attention. A flush of red caused her cheeks to glow, which made me think that Niki must have made his presence known around the office. She hit some buttons on the phone in front of her and spoke into her headset, studiously avoiding looking into my eyes.
“There’s a gentleman here to see her. Err — just a second, please. Your name, sir?”
“Donnie Elder.”
“Company?”
“Arcane Transport.”
“I’m sorry?”
I started to repeat myself, then gave in and spelled it out for her. She then repeated the information into the headset, though she referred to me as Don, rather than Donnie. For some reason people think that is more professional. I find that absurd and a bit pompous. Johnny Cash, Andy Warhol, Gordie Howe. They were all okay in my book. Though Warhol was a bit of a freak.
“They’re checking to see if Ms. Legenko is available to see you.”
I said nothing, trying to keep eye contact without allowing Mr. Mole to distract me.
“Hello? Oh! Yes, yes ma’am. Right away.”
“That was Ms. Legenko. She says you’re to go on up to the fourth floor. I’ll need you to sign our guest book, and wear this visitor tag.”
I printed my name and the company name deliberately in the sign-in book. Kind of old-fashioned, but what the hell. The name tag she gave me was far from old-fashioned, though. I looped the cord around my neck, letting the tag hang in front of my chest. Blue with a large red stripe which I took as the “I am a Stranger” warning. Of more interest was the label I had seen on the back-side of the tag. An active RFID device. I wasn’t going anywhere in this building without someone knowing about it.
I could see from ground level that a staircase ran from the mezzanine up to the second floor, and presumably beyond. However, I could also see that in the same general vicinity there was a pair of elevators, one with its door wide open in invitation to me. Despite the obvious allure of staggering up eighty or more steps to arrive sweaty and disgruntled at the fourth floor, I chose to instead travel in comfort. Fact is, I would arrive disgruntled either way.
The elevators, and the staircase for that matter, opened onto a small reception area on the fourth floor. A Louis XVI reception desk with a simple chair and phone sat before me, unoccupied. Beyond the desk, I could see most of the floor.
This was clearly the executive level. The outer wall was all offices, the open cube approach not being acceptable for Maxim Legenko, et al. Most of the offices had glass walls, though, and were still very visible, except for one large expanse on the South Wall where the glass was a milky white opaque. Based on the apparent size of the space and the carriage of the assistant seated at a desk before it, I assumed that was either Maxim’s office, or Elena’s. I was interested to find out who had greater sway.
All of the other offices were guarded by desks, each occupied by a young man or woman intently typing, reading or speaking into a headset.
A Joe College-type in Hugo Boss stood from one of the desks and headed my way as I emerged from the elevator.
“Mr. Elder?”
I nodded.
“Elena will see you now. Can I get you a coffee or water?”
“No thanks.”
“OK. Right this way.”
He led me to one of the corner doorways, which appeared to be a small boardroom. One or two of the assistants glanced up at my passage, but most seemed uninterested.
Joe College arrived at the door ahead of me, and did a good job of shielding my view.
I heard a brief exchange.
“Ms. Legenko? Mr. Elder is here.”
“Yes, show him in. And give us some privacy, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Then Joe College leaned into the room, as though to adjust the lighting. It was far more interesting than that, however. Instead, the glass windows became tinted, then opaque.
Cool. I had seen this on some TV show. Liquid crystal privacy glass. Flip a switch and it runs a current through special layers in the glass, changing it from transparent to opaque. Looked like it might even have a dimmer switch that allowed you to pick a level of opacity. My inner geek was thrilled.
Joe College gestured for me to enter the room and I slid past him, the door closing at my back.
The centerpiece of the room was a massive oval table with an inlaid image of what appeared to be the Zodiac, though I didn’t recognize any of the signs. A vague warning signal began sounding in the back of my mind, though I couldn’t figure out why.
In one of the chairs slouched Maxim Legenko, a look of complete disinterest on his face. So much for being on leave.
This was my first time seeing him up close and personal, and the one thing that stood out for me was angles. Angles and edges. Even his Adam’s apple seemed about to burst through the skin at his throat.
Standing at the windows and staring at the view of downtown Toronto was Elena Legenko. Impressive on TV, she was stunning in person. Alabaster skin so white as to seem bleached, in stark contrast to raven black hair and blood red lips. Her eyes were dark, the irises seeming black as though her pupils were fully dilated. She wore a simple black dress that ended just above the knee, and stilettos a good inch higher than seemed appropriate for an office.
“Mr. Elder, is it?”
She had no accent, which surprised me since she exuded “mysterious Eastern European lady”. Maybe she had learned to hide it during her modeling career.
I nodded.
“Please, take a seat.”
I pulled the chair out that she had gestured to, and sat.
As we stared at one another, Maxim tooled around on a cellphone that seemed to have captured all of his attention.
“I understand you have come here to speak to me about my husband and Niki Kuzmenko.”
I’m pretty sure I heard a snide undertone when she said “my husband”. Interesting.
“Yup. I’m trying to understand why Niki robbed me at gunpoint a few weeks ago. It seems to have encouraged a rash of these things.”
That caught her attention. In contrast, Maxim seemed to hunch down even further over his cellphone, typing out some text message with his thumbs.
“Maxim?”
“Hm?” He looked up as though noticing where he was for the first time. His eyes darted from her, to me, and back.
“What has Niki been up to?”
“I don’t know. I am not his keeper.” Maxim’s voice was heavily accented, the difference from Elena’s cultured tones almost comical. “Niki does as he wishes. But this sounds like bullshit.” He stared me down on that last sentence, as though daring me to disagree.
I happily complied.
“Oh, it’s no bullshit. He robbed me at gunpoint, and I think you know it. A guy like that doesn’t come up with the idea to rob a specialty courier on his own.”
“Specialty courier?”
I turned to Elena, focusing my attention on her.
“Our customers deal in non-traditional goods.” Christ, how to explain what we do without sounding like a lunatic. “Antiques, artifacts, objects with purported magic or occult properties.”
“Occult?” I expected her to give me a look of disbelief, or maybe call
Joe College to have Security escort me from the premises. What I didn’t expect was for her to scowl at her hubby. That I didn’t expect at all.
They both recovered quickly. So quickly, it made me wonder whether I had imagined that look.
“I don’t know you, Donnie Elder.” Maxim said this with a bit of a sneer, apparently having found his tongue. “I don’t know your business, and I don’t care to. Maybe Niki robbed you, maybe not. It is none of my business. If it bothers you, take it up with him.”
“Oh, I intend to.” I shoved back from the table, seeing from the expression on both of their faces that I was being stonewalled. “I’ll be talking to Mr. Kuzmenko. You can let him know, if you want. This is far from over.”
Elena’s attention had wandered from me, and she was staring at the back of her husband’s head, a distinct look of displeasure writ large. Maxim was oblivious though, having switched into cocky bastard mode.
“Maybe it should be over, Donnie Elder. Perhaps you should just ‘carve your losses’, that they say.”
I snorted and turned. Joe College was already opening the door to guide me to the elevator. No problem. I had a feeling I would be back.
CHAPTER 21
I was determined to visit Clay after work, make sure he was taking it easy. Pain in the ass drive, but I still felt responsible. Despite the craziness with the punk rock trio and the Legenkos, I opted to drop by before making the run back to the office.
I entered the room to find he and Harper chatting, with Clay sitting upright, his back propped against two pillows.
“Hey, you gave us another scare.”
Harper stood and kissed me on the cheek, and I shook hands with Clay. Despite the return engagement at the hospital, his grip had a bit of oomph to it.
“Well, I think they just want to keep an eye on me. I’m sure everything’ll be alright.”
“Good.”
“How did today go?”
I walked Clay through the day, pausing from time to time to let him insert anecdotes about certain customers. As usual, I found myself taking notes on a scrap of paper. Sick or not, Clay knew the business inside and out.
“How about you, how have you been?”
“Oh, I’ve been good. Feeling a lot stronger. I think I just overdid it a bit.”
On hearing that, I considered skipping over my visit with the punks. But it was Clay’s business, so I walked them through the robbery attempt that afternoon, and my visit with the Legenkos.
If anything, Clay seemed impressed.
“Well, maybe our mugger friend will find himself in a heap of trouble with his employer.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice.”
“You going to pass on your suspicions to Sun?”
“I was thinking of giving it a few more days. See if anything comes of our session today.”
“Sounds reasonable. You’re doing well, kid.”
“Thanks.”
I left feeling like maybe I was getting a hang of things at last.
Silly me.
CHAPTER 22
I was getting ready to start another day on the road when the repercussions of my visit to Ruscan arrived at the door.
“Uh, Donnie?” Kara’s voice rang out over the intercom, sounding a bit off. I picked up the phone.
“Hey.”
“Hi. Uh, there’s a gentleman here to see you. He says you know him?”
“What’s his name?”
“Nikolay?”
Kuzmenko. Here?
“Give me a second.”
What was best? Grab the bat? Grab a crowbar and ask Jamar to back me up? Make a run for it? I needed the upper hand on this guy. I twisted the ring on my finger, a new habit that I had come to find soothing. Maybe I should call Amy. Or Ted.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm my thoughts. Okay, what did I need to do? Well, I needed leverage on this idiot. Then, I needed to get that damned package back. But first, I needed to make sure he didn’t shoot my ass right here and now.
And then I had it. A stroke of genius. Or maybe a stroke of modest intelligence. Whatever.
I rifled through my pockets, pulling out my wallet, car keys, some change and an old movie pass. Pulled the watch off my wrist, and lay it down next to the items spread on the kitchen table. Jamar had stopped eating his breakfast — a huge bagel with a good half inch of cream cheese on it — and was staring at the junk on the table with a question on the tip of his tongue. I held a finger up to keep him quiet.
Drivers license, credit card, bank card, health card. I pulled everything I needed out of my wallet. Left in an old library card, the passcard for my former employer’s office, a ten year old Blockbuster Video membership card and $40. Jammed my wallet back in my pants. Movie ticket and change back in pockets. I glanced at the watch. Decent Timex IronMan. Pretty sure Ted bought it for me for Christmas a few years ago. I would rather not lose it, but… I slid it back on my wrist.
Then I grabbed one of our pink notepads and a pen, and scribbled a message down.
Peter Martin, Chief Financial Officer
Harding Philips Gallery
Oaktree Terrace, Suite 718
Toronto,
Ontario
With a wave for Jamar to follow me, I headed out front.
There he was, in all his shirt buttons open, greasy hair glory. He was leaning over the counter trying to sweet talk Kara, who seemed engrossed in whatever form she had managed to pull up on her screen.
I edged my way out from the back, even leaning back slightly. Had to sell this.
“Kara, can you take care of this for me?” I held out the note, but big Niki reached out and snagged it from me.
“What is this?” He scanned the note.
“It’s the address for a customer, asshole. I need Kara to open a file for them.”
He glanced again at the note, then handed it back to me. I passed it to Kara.
“Can you open a file on them? The rest of the paperwork is in my office, cabinet in the back. Jamar can sit desk.”
“OK.” I could tell she was puzzled, but she played along. Either way, it was a good idea to get her away from Niki. She stood and headed to the back, and Jamar took her place.
I turned my full attention on Niki.
“OK, asshole. What do you want?”
“Donnie Elder! My friend.” The look on his face said anything but. “You visited with my employer yesterday.”
“Yes I did.”
“That was not a wise thing.” Niki pulled back his jacket, and showed me his gun. Again. I saw Jamar tense up as he realized who the man was. This was my chance.
“You shit.” I tried to look scared, not so hard since I was. “Think you’re tough when you’ve got a weapon in your hands, eh?”
“Never fight fair when you can fight dirty.”
This guy was crossing the line.
“Fine!” This I belted out, startling Jamar so much that he kicked his seat back, gliding back a good four feet until the chair nudged up against the inner wall. “I guess assholes like you don’t know when to stop, huh?” I pulled my watch off, dropped it on the reception counter in front of him, dug into my other front pocket and slapped the movie ticket next to the watch, and then laid on the gusto, pulling my wallet out with a flourish and tossing it down next to the other items.
“You satisfied?”
Niki had a huge grin on his face. “Much better, yes.”
He reached out and grabbed the watch, pocketed it. Slid the bills out — three tens and two fives. He pocketed those too. I still had forty dollars tucked into my front pocket, but saw no sense in being charitable.
There was a soft clicking sound behind me, over my left shoulder, but Niki was enjoying himself too much to notice it.
“I suppose you want my goddamned school ring, too?” I grasped the ring, then held my breath.
The big oaf smiled and gestured for me to toss it to him. It slid off easily, and I nudged it across the counter to him.
; “That’s more like it.” He picked the ring up, apparently impressed by the stone, then slid it onto his baby finger. Thank God it fit.
Got him. I saw Jamar’s seat turn as he faced me, a look of confusion on his face.
I held to the act, snarling. “Now get out of here. Leave us alone!”
“For now, Donnie Elder. But if you speak to my employers again, it will not go well for you, or your colleagues.” He snarled at Jamar, and for just a moment I considered going after him then and there. But I wanted him to get the full experience of the ring before putting the squeeze on, so I shut up.
The big man turned, a chuckle rumbling in his gut.
I watched him stroll across the parking lot to his car, a blocky old BMW 325 that probably reminded him of home. He opened the door and, with some work, managed to finagle his body into the driver’s seat. As he did, I noticed something fall from his pocket to the ground. Maybe my wallet? Seemed almost too much luck to ask for, but I had seen what that ring could do.
Niki pulled out of the lot, and I opened the door and jogged over to the parking spot where the BMW had sat.
No wallet.
Instead there was a small plastic bag, like the ones they put the spare button in when you buy a pair of pants. The bag contained a chrystalline powder that made me think of cocaine, except it was black.
I wondered what Amy might make of it. Maybe the ring had already started working its mojo.
Back in the office, Jamar and Kara started firing questions at me.
“Was that the guy-.”
“Did he have-.”
“Did you just give him the-.”
“Yes, yes and yes.”
Smiles crossed both of their faces, as they realized what I had done.
“What did he drop?”
“I don’t know.” I held the bag up, showing them the powder it contained. “But I have a feeling my police officer friend might be interested in taking a look at it. Now,” I cringed as I looked at Kara, hoping for the best, “any luck?”
