Danger-Close: A Jake Thunder Adventure (The Jake Thunder Adventures Book 1)

by Jon F. Merz

  "Darmov's a bastard. He sells babies."

  "Yeah," said Dobbs. "We know it."

  "And you want to hop into bed with him anyway."

  "We don't have much choice."

  "I don't buy that."

  Dobbs took the cigarette back out. "The men going in, they'll be the guys you used to serve with. You know that?"

  "It's a volunteer outfit. It's what they're paid to do."

  Dobbs leaned forward. "Jesus man, don't you even care? Don't you want them to have the best chance of success if we can get it to them?"

  I frowned. "I've been hired to do a job here, Dobbs. And you want me to stop going after Darmov because he's a good tour guide?"

  "We want you to stop going after Darmov because he could possibly save American lives."

  "But you're not one hundred percent sure."

  "Are you ever?"

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe's suck and you know it."

  "What about after you're done with him?"

  "What about it?"

  "Does he go free?"

  Dobbs shrugged. "We gotta offer him something."

  "What makes you think he'll even go along with the offer?"

  "No guarantees. But we have to try. I shouldn't have even cued you into the op. But I figured I could appeal to your specops background."

  "I'm not convinced this is a good idea."

  "Just promise you won't drop Darmov if you get a bead on him."

  "I won't kill him if I can possibly help it."

  Dobbs stood up. "Thanks for your help." He started toward the door.

  "Dobbs."

  He turned.

  I nodded. "I'm not the only one you've got to worry about, you know. Someone else wants Darmov dead pretty bad. And I've got no pull in that situation. None whatsoever."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  By the time I got to Vinny Testa's that night, my mood was about as low as it could possibly be. Lou Dobbs showing up in my life and telling me that they needed Darmov alive put yet another crimp in my rapidly deteriorating plan to close this case.

  Vanessa was seated at the bar when I rolled in, showing an ample amount of skin. She spun on the barstool and gave me a clear line of sight right at her crotch. It helped perk me up, but only just.

  She bent and kissed me while the hostess fumbled with some menus. "I missed you," she said.

  We followed the hostess up the ramp that separated the bar area from the dining room and eventually got situated down near the back wall. I got on the inside, affording me a good view of who was entering the restaurant. Call it paranoia if you want, but after the week I'd been having, who knew where trouble was going to show its ugly face next?

  Vanessa ignored her menu and stared at me. "You look like your life is a mess."

  "Seems like it's been that way ever since you brought me this case," I said.

  Vanessa's lips pursed. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make your life a nightmare."

  "It's not you, it's the case." I sighed and laid the menu down. "There are new wrinkles finding their way into it at every juncture. It's bad enough I don't even know how to make heads or tails out of what's going on. But now I can't even seem to keep my head above water."

  "What's going on?"

  We were interrupted by the waiter who arrived with the kind of flourish people seem naturally annoyed by. I was no exception. Vanessa got the smallest portion of rigatoni and I order the veal Parmesan. The waiter disappeared and returned a minute later with some fresh foccacia bread and olive oil, along with an iced tea for Vanessa and a Pepsi with a lime for me.

  I broke a piece of the bread and dipped it into the oil, allowing it to soak up as much as possible before allowing it to dribble into my mouth. I chewed, wiped, and then looked at Vanessa who was still negotiating a sugar packet.

  "You didn't tell me you were married to Darmov."

  Vanessa froze but recovered herself quickly. She poured the contents into her drink and stirred it with the straw. "There didn't seem to be much point in it."

  "Not much point? That doesn't make any kind of sense and you know it. You've known for a while that I've been interacting with the guy." I leaned closer. "For crying out loud, I slept with you."

  She shrugged. "So what? We weren't married based on any kind of love. I told you the first day I met you my life doesn't have much room for love in it."

  "Yeah, you told me that. I told you that I didn't believe it. Why would you marry the guy if you didn't love him?"

  Vanessa took a long drag on her iced tea and looked up at me. "Do you know anything about my father, Jake?"

  "No," I lied. "Not a thing."

  "He wasn't a nice man. He was incredibly wealthy but he also had a very distorted view of the world at large. He felt very strongly that there was a pattern to life that should be followed at all times."

  "So much for free will."

  "That's it exactly. Free will did not exist in our family. We were all expected to live up to his ideals."

  "What kind of ideals?"

  "That women should be married by a certain age, for one."

  "And you weren't. Is that it?"

  "I met Ilyitsin at a charity function for children. He's a very passionate man when it comes to children."

  I smiled. She didn't know the half of it. Or maybe she did. "Go on."

  "He was quite the dashing fellow. He knows very well how to command the attention of everyone in the room. He was magnetic. At first there was attraction there, although in retrospect, I think we were a bit of a convenience for each other. When he proposed," she shrugged. "I accepted."

  "Why am I finding this so damned hard to swallow?"

  "You don't believe me?"

  "I don't believe," I said around another mouthful of bread and Pepsi, "that you would just up and marry a guy you met just for the convenience of pleasing your father."

  "There's more."

  "Always is," I said.

  "My father is dead now."

  "Okay."

  "However, he continues to control our lives from beyond the grave."

  Visions of Ripley's Believe It Or Not and the Twilight Zone danced through my head. "How the hell does he do that?"

  Vanessa dabbed at the corners of her mouth. "My father's estate, at the time of his passing, was estimated to be worth around one hundred million dollars."

  I whistled. "Nice chunk of change."

  "It's more money than most people dare dream about," said Vanessa.

  She had me there. I clammed up and let her continue.

  "In order for his children to receive their inheritance, we had to fulfill certain obligations."

  "Children? Your mother's dead?"

  "She died when Melinda and I were very young."

  I leaned back. "Vanessa, in this state at least if there's no spouse, the will goes before the courts. A judge examines the will and decides on who gets the inheritance."

  Vanessa took a sip of water. "You've never met a crooked judge? Never known an attorney who couldn't be persuaded with a pile of money?"

  Of course I had. I maintained the belief that all politicians first become attorneys and judges so they can understand the laws they'll eventually break. "Okay, you got me there."

  "My father had plenty of both: attorneys and judges he'd bribed throughout his lifetime. The money he'd paid them would mean his will, archaic and stilted as it was, would go unchallenged in the courts."

  "And there was no way you'd get the money unless you fulfilled these obligations."

  "Correct."

  "Let me guess: all the daughters had to be married."

  "Very good."

  "So you were and Melinda wasn't."

  "Melinda wanted to strike out on her own. She wanted to be her own person, uninfluenced by the whims of our father."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  "Of course I'm sure."

  "Okay."

  "But I was a bit more pragmatic. After all, a hundred million dol
lars can make you look at things in a certain light."

  "A pretty rich light, I'd imagine."

  "So I married Darmov."

  "And you got the inheritance?"

  "No."

  "More conditions?"

  "Yes."

  I waited. Vanessa stared at me. I broke off another piece of bread, dabbed it in oil and popped it into my mouth. Damn stuff was delicious.

  "Up to you," I said finally, "if you want to fill me in on them or not."

  She screwed her face up as if debating with herself. Finally she sighed and slumped forward. "My father was a criminal."

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  "What'd he do?"

  "From what I know, he was into white collar crime. Illegal stock trades, insider trading, junk bonds, that type of thing."

  "And he never got caught?"

  "He was very good at what he did."

  Presumably because he wasn't involved in white-collar crime at all. I kept my mouth shut and chewed some more bread.

  "His children were supposed to take over his business dealings. We were supposed to continue building his criminal enterprises."

  "And of course, being the good citizens you were, you wanted no part of that."

  "I wanted no part of it."

  "What about Melinda?"

  "As far as I know, she wanted no part of it either."

  "So, what happened? You're looking at a hundred million and you turn your backs on it?"

  "My husband, Ilyitsin, wants to take over the business and acquire the hundred million dollars himself."

  I stopped chewing. Someone was lying to me. I had conflicting stories coming at me from all angles and each one seemed more convinced of their honesty than the last.

  Don Juan the waiter arrived with our dishes in record time, trying his damnedest to impress us. We were too involved in our conversation to notice. He swept away with an audible huff.

  "Our waiter's upset with us."

  Vanessa nodded. "We're ignoring him."

  "Vanessa, are you trying to run your father's enterprises now?"

  "I told you I wasn't."

  "But Darmov wants them is that it?"

  "He wants the hundred million. I don't think he cares about the various projects my father ran. He will pretend to be interested only as long as it gets him the money."

  "And when he does? What happens then?"

  "I don't know."

  "Darmov's a dangerous man, Vanessa."

  "I don't think he'd kill me, if that's what you mean."

  "Would he have killed Melinda?"

  Vanessa sighed. "I don't know. I doubt he would have ever wanted to kill her, let alone actually done it."

  "Yeah?"

  "Yes."

  I bit into the veal. It was fantastic. I swirled some spaghetti onto my spoon, the way my grandma once taught me and speared the whole assembly into my mouth.

  "What if he did kill Melinda?"

  "Why would he do that?"

  "I don't know. Maybe Melinda wasn't everything she seemed to be. Maybe she told you one thing and did another. Maybe she wanted the one hundred million for herself."

  "Ridiculous," said Vanessa. "You didn't know Melinda, Jake. She wasn't capable of such things."

  "Forgive me for saying so, Vanessa, but that's a load of shit. A hundred million bucks can make anyone do anything. That kind of money can alter anyone's belief system."

  She bit into a piece of rigatoni as if she was afraid it might bite back. "I suppose you could be right."

  "Maybe I should postulate a few things here."

  "Please do."

  "Maybe Melinda wanted to take over your father's enterprises in the hopes of gaining the hundred million dollars. Maybe Darmov found out about it and killed her so she'd be out of his way."

  "That's a lot of maybes, Jake."

  "Don't I know it."

  I chewed some more veal and frowned. "Part I don't get is that even if Melinda was successful in taking over the business, according to what you said earlier, she'd still need to be married in order to fulfill the conditions of your father's will, right?"

  "Yes."

  "But aside from Don Woolery, there was no one in her life. At least no one to speak of."

  "Actually," said Vanessa, "there was."

  "How come you didn't tell me about him before?"

  "It didn't seem necessary back then."

  "Okay. So who is he?"

  Vanessa smiled, but it was the kind of weak smile I knew was hiding some nasty truth. She took a sip of iced tea and forgot to dab her mouth this time.

  "My husband."

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  My head hurt.

  That was the simple truth of it.

  While Vanessa sat there munching on small bits of rigatoni and sipping her iced tea, my head throbbed the way my groin did the first time I saw Penthouse Magazine. And I much preferred that to the way I felt right then.

  "Darmov and Melinda had an affair?"

  Vanessa actually smiled. Why, I had no idea. "For some time, believe it or not. They carried on for some time that way." She sighed. "Happiest I ever saw Ilyitsin."

  Obviously the honeymoon hadn't lasted long if he ended up wasting Melinda. "So, what happened?"

  She shrugged. "I don't really know."

  "How did you find out?"

  "It wasn't like they did all that much to hide their affection for one another, Jake. I could see it in their eyes every time they looked at each other."

  "Didn't you even care?"

  "I suppose at first I did."

  "But not for long, eh?"

  "We were never in love. It didn't make much sense to me to waste such a vacuous emotion as jealousy on it."

  "Did you ever confront Melinda on it?"

  "Again Ð why should I have? If she was happy with Ilyitsin, far be it for me to interfere."

  "Strikes me as awful strange of you to be so understanding like that."

  Vanessa leaned across the table. "Jake, you've got to understand one thing about me: I'm not entirely greedy. We were all trying to get our father's money. I married Ilyitsin to try to get at it. If Melinda succeeded at it getting it, I know she would have cut me in for my share."

  "And you would have done the same for her?"

  "Absolutely."

  "So, this was an agreement you two had decided upon?"

  "Not in so many words, no. But I like to think we understood each other. Melinda at the very least appreciated my sense of reserve when it came to acknowledging her and Ilyitsin's romance."

  "What about Don Woolery?"

  "What about him?"

  I sighed. "Word was back when he was still breathing that your sister was quite the promiscuous one."

  "He said that?"

  "Ah, no. He called her a slut. I was sparing you his words."

  "I see."

  "So?"

  "I don't know. Melinda always had something of a wild streak. Who knows, maybe she thought it would help her in some way to get the inheritance."

  "You think she strategized with Darmov about it?"

  "I wouldn't know. Possibly."

  "So, either way, Darmov comes out with his hand in the till for one hundred million, is that it?"

  "That's the way it seems."

  "Does he know you hired me to find out who killed Melinda?"

  "Heavens no."

  I nodded. "Just checking." But I was troubled. Sooner or later it was going to come out that Vanessa had hired me. And sooner or later she was going to learn that Darmov had killed Melinda.

  I finished the veal and leaned back. Something still didn't feel right. Darmov had seemed damned straight with me about not caring about the Patterson's criminal syndicates. But one hundred million dollars? I doubted anyone could walk away from that kind of pay-off. And Darmov was a skilled intelligence officer. He could act his way through anything.

  Vanessa's nonchalance about her sister sleeping with her husband str
uck me as odd. Part of me wondered if the two sisters hadn't simply conspired to get the old man's money any way they could. Even if it meant sharing a husband.

  The waiter reappeared and asked if we wanted dessert. I opted for the tiramisu. Vanessa ordered coffee.

  We waited.

  She looked at me. "You know, you didn't even compliment me on my outfit tonight."

  I grinned. "Sorry, got a lot on my mind. You look great."

  "You should see what I have on underneath."

  I smiled. Our waiter reappeared with my dessert and Vanessa's coffee. Then he got a big bottle and proceeded to shake it. If a numbered peg inside came out that matched our table number, dinner was free.

  We were table number six.

  The numbered peg read 227.

  I looked around. "You got two hundred and twenty-seven tables here?"

  He frowned. "In spirit. Have a nice night."

  I reached for the check. Vanessa laid her hand on mine.

  "Jake."

  I took my hand away with the check in it. "What?"

  "You seemÉupset."

  I laid some cash on the bill and shook my head. "Nope. Not upset. Just unsure."

  "About what?"

  "About everything involving this case. At every turn there's something new and confusing that doesn't make sense. Someone's not telling me the truth and I am getting the distinct impression that everyone else knows the real story. Everybody but me. I don't like that very much."

  She stood up. "I understand."

  "I doubt you really do."

  We moved to the front door and slid outside into the night air. A cool breeze reminded me that Fall was coming a lot sooner than I thought. And like everything associated with this case, I felt powerless to stop it.

  I looked at Vanessa who stood looking up at the night sky. Her long legs entranced me. They seemed to go on forever.

  She caught me looking at her and smiled. "You like?"

  I nodded. "You're right, you know."

  "I'm right?"

  "Yes."

  "About what?"

  I grinned and took her hand. "I really should see what you have on underneath."