Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery)

by Reinhart, Larissa

  “You worked for crime bosses back in your country. Of course your sister wanted to get you in trouble,” I shouted.

  “I worked as dealer in casinos,” he yelled. “No proof of criminal organization. You read my file. You should know.”

  “I can’t read your stupid file. It’s in cryptic.”

  “Cyrillic,” shouted Max. “You are the stupid.”

  “Forgive me for not knowing your foreign language, foreigner,” I yelled. “I’m American and you’re in America.”

  “No, stupid for working with Rupert.”

  “Dear Lord in heaven, I was just painting his picture. What is it with you two? Did he lose a million dollars in your poker palace and never got over it?”

  Max jerked his head to glance at me. “Not one million.”

  “Dammit to hell, Bear. This is why I don’t like your underground games.”

  “This is more than poker,” he grunted and fixed his eyes back on the windshield.

  “More than poker. More than a hijacking,” I mimicked in a nasty drawl. “What’s more important than two dead men, a shut-in threatened by a drug dealer, and a child taken from his home?”

  “I did not know about the hijacking. Or murders.”

  “I know that. So what are you doing with friends like Yuri? You knew who he was when I showed you the composite drawing. Did you make a deal with Ernie Pike?”

  “Who is Ernie Pike?”

  “Why doesn’t anybody know anybody?” I squeezed my palms against my temples. “Did you have an agent to give the hijacking orders?”

  “I did not order hijacking. I tell you I know nothing about it.”

  “But they are supplying your SipNZip with jacked goods.”

  “It’s not my SipNZip,” he shouted and whipped the wheel to the left, pulling us onto an interstate ramp. Three police cars screamed past us, heading in the opposite direction. “Only in my name.”

  I dropped my hands and stared at him. “What do you mean, only in your name?”

  “I need focus on driving. Look for police and Rupert.” He stretched his hand to the radio, chose a thumping dance station, and turned the volume to earsplitting.

  “Turn it down and talk to me,” I shouted and reached for the volume. “Stop avoiding me.”

  He swatted my hand. “You are very frustrating woman,” he yelled. “Big pain in ass. No more talking until Halo.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Twilight painted Halo in a cool, dioxazine mauve glow as we pulled off the interstate and onto the local highway. Max sped past the SipNZip while I pointed out the yellow tape crossing the doors and the multitude of vehicles parked in front.

  I turned off the radio. The electronic tempo still throbbed inside my head. “Are we going to your house or mine?”

  “Neither,” Max grunted. “Your family lives outside Halo? I want to avoid town streets. Too many police.”

  “Take me to the farm. If the sheriff caught Regis Sharp, my family will show at the farm soon enough. Grandpa will need to feed his goats.”

  He followed my directions in silence. I hoped he had pondered the right thing to do during our musical interlude. As we pulled into the farm lane, I scanned for errant goats. The Hummer zipped up the pockmarked farm lane and stopped in the clearing before the house.

  Max turned off the engine, but left his lights on. Goats bleated from behind the fence and several sets of ghostly eyes blinked in the glare from the headlights.

  I patted Max on the arm. “You’ll feel better once you tell the authorities what you know about Yuri. You’ll protect Little Anatoly and the other SipNZip employees from any involvement with the hijacking crimes, especially if they were just doing what they were told. Protect yourself, too.”

  Max shook his head. “You don’t understand. We will be deported.”

  “For the hijacking?”

  “Maybe some arrests for hijacking and selling stolen goods. I don’t know which SipNZip peoples do the hijacking.” Max sighed and rested his head against the seat. “All will be arrested for illegal immigration.”

  “You’re not legal?” I said. “I thought you had a green card.”

  “I thought I did, too,” he said. “Until Rupert blackmailed me.”

  “What do you mean blackmail? Isn’t he your lawyer?”

  “You remember the audit, no?” he said. “Your poking at the bingo caused the government to look at my finances.”

  I nodded. An uncomfortable heat spread through my body and prickled my neck.

  “This brings interest in my citizenship. I am forced to call that mu`dak scum Rupert.”

  “I thought Rupert helped immigrants.”

  “He get us through your doors for big price. If you can’t afford big price, you work it off in place like SipNZip until you do. I paid that sonofabitch. Always he tries to get more money out of me. Sometimes using people against me.”

  Max’s voice shook. “I told you not to work for him. Rupert uses extortion by hiring you. To make me worry what will happen to you.”

  “How was I supposed to know? I thought y’all were playing whose grass is greener.”

  “Never the mind. During audit, Rupert told me he has proof that can cause me problems with the United States government.”

  “Deport you?”

  “I don’t know if he is telling truth or bluffing. So much paperwork.” Max waved his hand through the air. “So I was blackmailed by this zlačynny, Rupert. ‘How much you want?’ I asked.

  “‘I want you to buy some convenience stores so my people have a place of employment for their green card applications,’ said mu`dak Rupert.

  “I don’t have anything to do with the store,” continued Max. “It’s franchise under big corporation. I just have to purchase the land and put store in my name.”

  “So if there’s any trouble, the blame falls on you,” I said.

  Max nodded. “But I can’t report anything for fear they will check into my paperwork. We take old gas station, renovate, and it’s SipNZip. I step away.”

  “You’ve got to report all this to the sheriff.”

  “Too late.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” I said. “Are you going to live on the run? I thought you enjoyed your palatial southern monstrosity and the local gentlemen’s lax morality on high stakes gambling.”

  “If I go back to home country, my old boss will kill me.”

  “Literally?” My voice pitched high.

  Max cut his eyes away from mine.

  “Yuri was going through Rupert’s files when I caught him.” I pulled my satchel off the floor and hauled it onto the seat. “I don’t know what he planned to do with them, but if Yuri felt desperate enough to steal the files, there must have been a reason.”

  Max shook his head. “You need proof of Rupert’s hijack organization. These files just have citizenship paperwork. What does it matter?”

  “I don’t know, but I grabbed Little Anatoly and Sam’s files. I also have yours.” I placed my hand on the satchel and gave him my most serious look. “I know reading your papers was an invasion of your privacy, but you weren’t telling me anything.”

  “I am confused,” Max tapped my satchel with a finger. “You wanted me to make confession for a crime I didn’t commit, yet you have committed robbery by stealing these files.”

  “I had planned to return your file,” I said. “So it’s more like borrowing without permission.”

  “I do not believe this is legal term.”

  “Do you want the files or not?”

  “I am in enough trouble. Do I also want possession of stolen files?” Max opened his door and stepped onto the gravel drive.

  “I will leave you here and find some place to go.”

  He circled the front of the vehicle and reached for my door. I slid to the edge of my seat before he opened it, taking advantage of the Hummer’s height to look him in the eye.

  “I am trying to help you, Bear,” I said. “Even though you let me down a
nd sought the pants of an Amazon. But in the interest of catching the man who killed Tyrone, that’s all flushed under the bridge.”

  “I am truly confused by your assistance. And your idioms.”

  He took my hand to help me slide off the seat, but I held tight, willing him to continue.

  “I cannot tell if you want me arrested because of your anger or out of concern for me,” Max’s eyebrow scar lifted. “If it is anger, I have told you my feelings for the Shawna Branson. Your jealousy both piques and astounds me. If it is concern, you have a very odd way of expressing your friendship.”

  “I suppose it is confusing,” I said. “But I do like you. In the past six months, you have grown from my personal chigger to more of a pesky honey bee.”

  “I am still confused,” he said, and jerked. The Hummer rocked, and the air burst with a booming explosion. The giant jeep dipped, and Max’s hand slipped from my grasp. He hopped back, lost his balance, and fell. As his body slammed to the ground, his legs went in two different directions, under and out.

  I righted myself in the seat and stared in shock at his blown front tire. “Bear!”

  He collapsed onto his back. One hand stretched for my ankle as he writhed in the gravel.

  The air cracked and a shot winged the open door.

  Max’s arm dropped to the ground.

  I kneeled on the floor of the Hummer and reached over the side. “Get in the car, Bear. Hurry.”

  The window exploded. I yanked my hand inside as the door slammed shut. Tiny pebbles of glass showered my bent body.

  Beneath me, Max bellowed a painful cry.

  “Bear,” I screamed. “Are you shot?”

  “Not hit. Rolled under car.” He spoke in gasping phrases. “You crawl to other side. Stay down.”

  “Do you have your phone? Call 9-1-1.”

  The air cracked again and the ground rocked below me. I scrambled over the Humvee’s ridiculously large console and squeezed under the steering wheel. The explosive thwack of gunfire sounded as another bullet zinged through the passenger window, slamming into the backseat window column. I cowered against the accelerator, holding my ears. Plastic exploded inside the car with the next shot. Dust blew up in my face and my ears rang. I opened my eyes and peered above the seat.

  A quarter-sized shred in the passenger door convinced me to get the hell out of the Hummer.

  I stayed low, flipped the latch, and pushed the door wide. The light from the cab spilled onto the gravel. I followed the spill, sprawling into the rocks below. Gun fire cracked the silence. Above me, the driver’s door swung shut. I blinked at the sky above me. Lights swarmed my vision. Time slowed. I heard my name called. My chest tightened, then air exploded from my lungs. My brain cut back on, and I slithered under the Hummer.

  “Cherry,” Max repeated. “Are you shot?”

  “No,” I said. “Your door has a big hole in it, though. And the window is blown to hell.”

  I rolled onto my stomach and squinted into the darkness at Max’s mammoth shape. “Where were you hit? How bad is it?”

  “Not hit. I slipped when the first bullet hit the tire. My knee,” he said. “Hurts like the hell. Who is trying to kill you?”

  “Kill me? I thought they were trying to shoot you.” I arched my neck and peered into the gloomy farm yard. “Where are they?”

  “They were behind the house,” said Max. “Moving closer now.”

  “We’re sitting ducks,” I said. “Where’s your phone?”

  “In the Humvee.” He shifted and his left hand reached through the shadows toward me. “I will crawl out. You get in jeep and drive away. The tire will hold.”

  I grabbed his hand. “No, sir. I am not leaving you to be shot up. My Grandpa has an arsenal of hunting guns in his house. Just give me a second to figure out how to get us both out of here.”

  “No.” His hand crushed mine. “Absolutely no.”

  “Maybe Regis Sharp escaped. Or it’s Ernie Pike. Sharp had a Ruger, so I’m betting on Sharp.”

  Our argument was cut short by the remote sound of a car engine slowing on the highway and turning onto the gravel farm lane. Footsteps smacked the gravel as the shooter ran back toward the house.

  “You stay where you are,” I said. “I’m getting out and flagging that vehicle before it comes any closer. It could be my family. Don’t move.”

  I scooted out from the Hummer and kneeled beside the rear tire. The vehicle’s lights bobbed on the potholed road. I ran diagonally, toward the cover of the big oak that grew alongside the path. I didn’t recognize the car, but continued my run toward it. The vehicle slowed to a stop. As I drew nearer, I made out the sleek hood and large grill of a very expensive Jaguar.

  Definitely not any of my relations.

  The back window rolled down, and I heard Rupert call my name. I wavered between heading toward the car and back toward Max and the shooter. Behind me the lane split, running toward the out buildings. The house was closer. I began backing toward the oak.

  “Miss Tucker,” called Rupert. “Is that Maksim’s Hummer?”

  So much for the Atlanta police.

  “Did you follow me here?” I called, looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t see any hint of the shooter. The vehicle may have scared them away, but I placed my back against the tree, blocking my body from the house.

  “I’ve been here before, remember darling?” said Rupert. The Jaguar pulled up behind the Hummer and parked. Rupert leaned out the window. “Miss Tucker, I need to speak to Maksim. He attacked me. Then the police came to my house looking for a fugitive. I had already left, but they reached me by phone. I need to call them back with his whereabouts.”

  “Max isn’t available right now,” I said, peering around the tree.

  “The police are looking for him, my dear.”

  “I figured as much. Still, can’t help you.”

  I heard the whir of another window rolling down. I glanced over my shoulder. Yuri waved from behind the Jag’s steering wheel. His gun pointed at Miss David, who sat in the passenger seat. She did not wave and kept her eyes fixed on the Hummer.

  My brain squeezed out a few phrases best not spoken aloud. My mouth tried an “Oh, crap.”

  Rupert laughed. “You do have a way with words, Miss Tucker.”

  I gave him a tight smile. “And you have a strange sense of humor. Why are you letting your nephew hold a gun on Miss David? She’s kind of prickly, but certainly not worth shooting.”

  Another snort of laughter ripped from Rupert’s belly. “This was for Maksim. He abandoned her once when she decided to work for me rather than stay with him. I thought she might change his mind about talking to the police.”

  “Max and Miss David were an item?”

  She turned to look at me, her cool gaze gouging fresh wounds into my chest.

  “He cares for me as much as he does for you, it seems. If you know where Maksim is, tell Mr. Agadzinoff so this mu’dak can remove his gun.”

  “Yuri put down your weapon. Max isn’t here,” I said, then worried Max might pop up and prove me a liar. Of course, with a blown knee, he couldn’t pop. But he could holler.

  “If Max were here to save Miss David, I’m sure he’d not lay around worrying about his own ass, even if that was the more intelligent option. I think he’d know he couldn’t do any good jumping up to save you,” I called loud enough for Max to hear and shifted to peer around the tree toward the house. “He’s got enough chivalry to make a stand, but your timing is not good.”

  “Why you look at house?” said Yuri.

  “I have all kinds of people trying to kill me,” I said. “I told you it was a bad day, Rupert.”

  Behind the house, the goats bleated a warning. I watched for movement in the area beyond the Hummer’s headlights. The sky darkened by the minute, giving the shooter easy cover.

  Rupert laughed. “My dear. You are too much.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Rupert. “Seriously, though, someone is trying to kill me
. Have you not noticed the Hummer is shot to hell? You should take off.”

  Yuri leaned out the window to get a better view of the Hummer. He turned around to look at Rupert. “It is true.”

  “Maksim’s not here,” said Miss David. “Let me go.”

  “Get in the Jag, Miss Tucker,” said Rupert.

  That was not the option I wanted.

  Thirty-Nine

  “So Miss David and Max,” I said, wondering how long I could hedge a conversation from behind a tree. “Did you hire me to do your portrait thinking Max would get jealous? Because it’s not like that between us. In fact, you’re better off hunting down the Real Artist of Forks County, Shawna Branson. Particularly if you don’t really care about art.”

  “I had hoped you working for me would make him squirm a bit,” he admitted. “Anything to keep Maks in place. He’s very difficult to control.”

  “If you’re worried about Max squealing about your SipNZip scheme, don’t. He hates the police. I’m the one who can give up Yuri, not Max.”

  “Give up Yuri?” said Rupert. “What do you know about Yuri?”

  I knocked my head against the tree, hoping some sense would seep in. I had confessed my knowledge of a crime they hadn’t suspected I knew. Idiot. When I peeked from the tree, Yuri had his gun directed at me. Miss David scrambled from the car.

  “She is unnecessary if Maksim is not here,” said Rupert. “But Yuri is very interested in what you know about him.”

  I strode out from behind the tree, praying Miss David could get in the house and not be killed by Yuri or the mystery shooter. I also prayed for the man underneath his big-ass jeep to keep still and for my own hide to stay in one piece. I threw all those thoughts toward heaven and hoped most of them stuck.

  “So what now?” I said, stopping in front of the car. “Secret’s out. I know Yuri held up that Dixie Cake truck, killed the driver, and then killed Tyrone, the witness. I called the cops and reported the fugitive. Max and Miss David had nothing to do with it.”

  “When I cannot find you in the house, we leave,” Yuri said. “Police is too slow. Where are files? Where is Maks?”