Bourbon & Blood: A Crime Fiction Novel (Bill Conlin Thriller)

by Garrard Hayes

  “Thanks, I’ll be back later,” I said.

  “I’ll be here.”

  I closed the apartment door and went down in the elevator, walked through the lobby and out into the street.

  I climbed into the back seat of Kenny’s car.

  “Hey what happened to all my stuff at my old apartment?”

  Kenny turned around.

  “What kind of friend would I be if we didn't take care of your stuff? I paid your rent and kept your apartment going for you.”

  “Thanks Kenny. I thought for sure the landlord had taken all my stuff by now.”

  “Are you kidding, Bill? We take care of our own.” Kenny smiled, turned forward, glanced at his side mirror, and pulled away from the curb.

  About forty minutes later we arrived at Dmitry’s building. When we got out of Kenny’s car, five large men immediately intercepted us. They came out of parked cars guns drawn.

  “You won’t need this,” one guy said, and took Kenny’s gun from inside his jacket. Jimmy and I were also stripped of our guns. The big Russians roughed us up a bit.

  “Hey, take it easy. We’re here to speak to Dmitry,” Jimmy said, getting shoved against the car.

  “He’s expecting us. Just check with him,” I said, a little rattled by the treatment.

  The lead guy was built solid and tall, with a heavy accent. He took out a phone, pressed a button, and waited. After a few seconds he started speaking Russian in short low bursts of words. He turned back to us. “Which one of you is Kenny?” he asked.

  “I am,” Kenny replied.

  “Here take this. Someone wants to talk,” he said.

  Kenny held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?” Kenny listened for a few seconds. “I understand. Not a problem, yes I understand.”

  Kenny handed the phone back to the large man. He turned to the other men, spoke in Russian, and they handed us our weapons. “You are free to go.” He said.

  “Let’s get back in the car,” Kenny said.

  “What? We’re not even finished?” I said aggravated.

  “Sorry Bill, get in the car.” Kenny said.

  I climbed back into Kenny’s car. He slowly pulled away from the curb and made a U-turn.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Things are too hot for Dmitry to meet us at his place. Just hold on Bill.” He answered.

  We drove for a few minutes and parked near a strip of local stores. On the other side of the street were brick apartment buildings. Kenny opened his door and stepped out. He walked around to my side, opened the door. “Come on, let’s get something to eat,” he said.

  We went into a small Russian café. A sweet and sour aroma of beet soup, brisket, and fried onions immediately made me hungry. A waitress greeted us with a smile. “Sit anywhere you like,” she said, with a slight Russian accent.

  She was attractive, with blonde streaked hair tied in a ponytail. She wore a white button-down blouse and black pants with a dark red apron.

  All the tables and chairs were made of dark wood. A couple of tables had customers eating and speaking Russian. Most of the restaurant was empty, and we sat in the back and waited.

  The waitress approached, handed us menus, then took out a pad and pen from her apron. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “We’re waiting for someone. Please give us a few minutes,” Kenny said, smiling as he looked up from his menu.

  “Okay, I’ll bring you water while you decide,” she said, and walked off.

  I leaned over across the table. “What are we doing here?”

  “We are waiting for a call from Dmitry. It is too dangerous to meet in known hot spots. Things have gotten heated,” he explained.

  The waitress came back with four glasses of water on a tray. The glasses were filled with ice that clinked as she served us. We waited for twenty minutes. I was ready to order something, but Kenny wasn’t sure we were staying.

  I looked around and noticed that the restaurant was empty, and that the front door had been closed. Four large men walked in and waited at the front. They looked familiar, and then I recognized the lead guy from Dmitry’s apartment building. He came over to Kenny, whispered in his ear, and sat at a table opposite us.

  After a while Dmitry came in. He walked straight into the back and joined us. He waved the waitress over and ordered several dishes in Russian. “This is a mess. All this tension and violence is not good for business,” he said.

  The waitress came back with four shot glasses and a bottle of vodka. Dmitry poured the vodka, and said, “Pei do dna!” He knocked back the shot and poured another.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “It means, drink to the bottom,” he answered.

  We did several rounds.

  “I’m sorry things turned so ugly, Bill. This is not the way I do business. These youngsters have no honor or respect for old relationships,” Dmitry said low, putting his hand on my arm.

  “Where are Viktor and the girl?” I asked, pulling my arm away.

  “I understand your concern, Bill. This is a little complicated. I will make things right and we will get the girl back. Viktor won’t hurt her cause he wants your money.”

  Dmitry poured a shot and drank it fast, then poured another. “We know where Viktor is, but he has many men with him day and night. The girl is in another location and it’s well guarded,” Dmitry said.

  “Give us the address and we’ll deal with whoever is guarding Dana,” I said.

  “It’s not that easy. Mikhail will go with you as my representative,” he said, holding out his left hand to the guy sitting at the other table.

  “You trust this guy?” I asked.

  “Da, I trust Mikhail with my life. He is one of my best men.” I looked over to Mikhail. His eyes were locked on me, and his face was stone, with no expression.

  “If you need to speak to anyone, Mikhail can translate. He also knows this location very well. It’s a whorehouse in Queens that we use to run before the split,” Dmitry said.

  “Where is this place?” I asked.

  “Forest Hills, off Yellowstone Boulevard.”

  “Where is Viktor?” I asked.

  “Kenny and I will deal with Viktor,” he said.

  “Not without me. I want Viktor alive. I promised Morgan.”

  “Not to worry, you get the girl with Mikhail. That is the plan,” he said.

  “This is bullshit. Who made this fucked up plan?” I asked.

  “Kenny did,” he replied.

  I stared at Kenny and he smiled back at me with his sleepy eyes. “Why were we splitting up? Dmitry and Kenny going off to get Viktor didn’t feel right. I didn’t like how this was shaping up.” I thought.

  “What are you gonna do with Viktor if you can grab him?” I asked.

  “Kenny will bring him to you as a gift from me. I want peace more than anyone. I taught Viktor everything he knows. It’s only fair that I bring him down,” Dmitry answered, and then he did another shot.

  “Okay, but Jimmy is with me.”

  Dmitry turned to Mikhail, and asked, “Is that a problem?”

  “Nyet.”

  “Okay, that will be fine, and we have our plan,” Dmitry said.

  The waitress returned with the food. After several trips and help from another waiter, the table was filled with delicious food. The aroma was incredible. She brought out beef stroganoff and chicken stew, breaded schnitzel with egg and lamb kebabs, assorted vegetables and beet soup. I couldn’t decide where to start. The table was so maxed out that we combined tables with Mikhail.

  “Eat and enjoy my friends. Now we put an end to our problems,” Dmitry said, holding up his shot glass and knocking back more vodka.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After we finished eating, Dmitry asked us to follow him out to his car. He climbed into the passenger side and took out his cell phone. A few seconds later he spoke to the person on the other end in Russian. Whatever they said became heated; he ended the call
, sighed and shook his head.

  “He waved me to come closer.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, walking over to the car and placing my hands on the roof and the open door.

  “I called Viktor. Now we wait for a call back with your proof of life. It shouldn’t be too long,” he explained.

  I fired up a cig, took a deep drag and blew out the smoke. Leaning against the car and tried to act patient, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Kenny and Jimmy both looked at me and shrugged. We all looked to Mikhail. His face wasn’t giving anything away as he stared back at us with the same stone expression.

  Jimmy started pacing, and chain smoking. He really was getting on my nerves.

  “Jimmy, be a pal. Go up the block and get us some beer at that deli,” I said.

  “Good idea,” he said, then nodded and walked off. A few minutes later he returned with the beer, and handed them out. Mikhail refused the offer with a shake of his head. Time slowed to a crawl. I could feel myself aging years from the stress of waiting.

  An hour passed and still nothing happened. No call and no text message. “Exactly what proof are we waiting for Dmitry?” I asked.

  He held one finger up to his lips. “Shush.” It was long and slow.

  I closed my eyes and took a big breath, exhaling slowly. I wiped sweat from my forehead and looked at Jimmy. He shrugged his shoulders, and took a deep drag of his cigarette.

  Suddenly Dmitry’s phone began buzzing. Everyone stared at him as he answered it. He said a few words in Russian, but this time there was no argument from the other side.

  “Da, da.” Then he handed me the phone. “Go ahead Bill. This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

  I held the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

  I heard a women crying on the other end. “Dana, its Bill. Are you okay? I know it’s been a long time, but I’m gonna get you out of this. Just hold tight,” I said.

  I heard a women scream, but couldn’t tell if it was Dana. A deep male voice came on the phone speaking Russian. I handed the phone back to Dmitry and he started arguing with the guy on the phone and ended the call.

  Dmitry’s phone buzzed once. He looked at it for a few seconds and then gave it to me again. A picture of Dana was on the phone.

  “How the fuck do I know if she’s alive from that picture? I asked, irritated.

  Dmitry took the phone from my hand. “Now you have proof of life.

  “What? That’s shit!” I barked.

  It’s all the proof you’re getting. Victor told me any more games and she’s dead. Give the money to Kenny, and then we meet with Viktor. You, Jimmy, and Mikhail go get the girl. When we hand over the money to Viktor she will be released to you. I’ll make sure to call you, before we walk away.”

  “This deal stinks, Kenny. I want Viktor alive when this is over,” I demanded.

  “We’ll grab him if we can, but no promises. It all depends what kind of muscle he has with him when we meet,” Dmitry said.

  On the way back, I stared out the window as we crossed the Manhattan Bridge. I couldn't help but wonder if this was a dirty deal. Kenny had been unpredictable on many occasions, but in my favor. “Kenny, please tell me this is not one of your fucked up double crosses?”

  “No worries, Bill. I have this all under control,” he replied.

  “I still feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” I said.

  Kenny adjusted his rearview mirror so he could see my face. “Just give me the money and have a little faith. You might be surprised at the outcome.”

  We arrived at my apartment on Tenth Avenue and I headed up to get the money. I brought it down, got into the back seat, and handed it over to Kenny.

  “Wow, kid! It’s still in the brown paper bag I gave you,” Kenny said, as he looked in the bag.

  Kenny took out his cell phone and called Dmitry. “Where do you want to meet? Yes I have the money. Okay, see you there.”

  We drove back to Brooklyn and met with the Russians. This time it was at a different Russian restaurant about a mile away from the earlier café. We didn’t go in. “You go with Mikhail and we will meet Viktor with a few of the boys. Kenny will call you when things are set on our end,” Dmitry said.

  “It’s five thirty. If you don’t hear from us by nine there’s a problem and we meet back here,” Kenny said.

  “Tell me where you guys are meeting Viktor,” I said. “If something bad goes down I want to know where to find the bodies.”

  “Mikhail knows what to do if things go wrong,” Dmitry said.

  We drove to Forest Hills in Mikhail’s van. It was an old, beat up white electrician’s van. A red sign on the side of the van read “Duffy’s Electrical Contractors.” Metal tool cases with drawers lined the inside walls. Extension cords, PVC pipes of all sizes, drills and a large toolbox, filled the back. The side and back windows were covered for privacy.

  We parked on the side of a red brick building at 63rd Drive, then watched and waited for the phone call. A side entrance with a ramp went down to a lower level. It seemed like a very busy place. Men were coming and going every few minutes.

  Fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, all went by excruciatingly slowly. Over ninety minutes had passed, and I began to feel anxious, the tension making my stomach ache. Eight o’clock came and went, and Jimmy started pounding his hand on the floor of the van in frustration.

  “What the fuck is taking so long?” he snapped.

  “We wait, just like Dmitry said,” Mikhail replied.

  Time seemed to stop. Seconds passed like hours and a stress fever started burning my ears, my head beginning to pound with a head ache. I chain smoked until I was out, without even realizing it.

  “This is bullshit, let’s go,” I said, agitated.

  “We wait until nine as agreed,” Mikhail said, looking at his watch.

  I looked at Jimmy bouncing his leg and tapping his foot without rest.

  “Let’s fucking go,” Jimmy said.

  I scratched at the stubble on my face. Mikhail was calm and expressionless.

  “This is shaving years off my life,” I said, trying to contain myself. I could feel seconds ticking by at a crawl. “Something must’ve gone wrong. This is taking too long,” I said.

  “Yeah, this is real bad,” Jimmy chimed in.

  At eight forty-five Mikhail’s phone started buzzing. He answered it and spoke in Russian. After a few short sentences he ended the call and opened the door.

  “It is time to go,” he said.

  “What did they say? What happened?” I asked.

  He didn’t reply and walked around to the back of the van, opening the back doors. He climbed in and took keys out of his pocket. Mikhail unlocked a metal toolbox on the floor, took out a shotgun and shells.

  As he loaded shells into the shotgun, I asked, “Did everything go well? Are we getting Dana now?”

  Mikhail didn’t look up, but kept loading shells into the side. “Nyet.”

  “No?” I asked, shocked.

  “We go in now,” he said.

  “What happened?” I demanded.

  “Kenny will tell you later. We have some work to do,” he said.

  Jimmy and I got out of the van and followed Mikhail through the side entrance of the building. We went down the ramp and came to an unlocked metal door. Inside was a dimly lit hallway with tile floor. Mikhail marched down to a door at the end of the hallway and banged on it with the side of his fist. We heard a voice inside yelling in Russian and Mikhail replied. To my surprise the door unlocked and Mikhail went in. He peeked back out at us and waved us in. I took out my gun and put my other hand in my pocket. Jimmy had his gun out too as we entered the apartment.

  Inside the apartment, a few girls sat on a couch watching TV. They glanced at us as we passed, then turned their faces back to the show. We went into a back room to find Viktor sitting at a table with a big smile on his face. He looked different, his hair grown out, black, wavy, and greased back.

 
“You don’t look to be in such bad shape after our session, Bill,” Viktor said, as he puffed on a cigar and blew out a big cloud of smoke. “I will have my money now and tell you where to get the girl.”

  Mikhail was standing on my left and said something in Russian to Viktor. I could see Viktor’s face change as rage swelled inside him. “You want to fuck me, after all this time,” he hissed.

  “Dmitry and Kenny have the money,” I explained.

  Viktor spat in my face. “You’re dead and so is your girl. I want that money now,” he barked.

  Viktor pulled out a pistol from behind his back and put it on the table. Mikhail spoke to him again and he looked at me.

  Suddenly Viktor’s phone rang, and he answered it, growling low in Russian. After being interrupted each time he began to speak, Viktor exploded. He screamed into the phone and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall and broke into pieces, which rained down to the floor. Silence filled the room, and the only sound was Viktor’s panting.

  “Your friends have fucked us both. They want to split the money with me for your life.”

  “What?” I said. I heard Mikhail pump his shotgun and he pressed it against my back.

  Jimmy was standing in the doorway and looked in. “What’s going on in there? Are you okay Bill?” Jimmy asked.

  “There’s a problem with the deal,” I said.

  “What problem?” he asked, starting to panic.

  “Dmitry and Kenny cut their own deal,” I answered.

  “Sorry Bill, we have other plans for you,” Mikhail said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Mikhail shoved the shotgun hard into my back.

  “There’s something you should know before this goes any further,” I said.

  “What are you saying?” Viktor said, through a clenched jaw. I slowly took my hand out of my pocket. “In case you don’t recognize this, it’s a grenade with the pin pulled. Make a move and we all die,” I warned.

  Viktor’s eyes darted to Mikhail and back to me. He was trying to will Mikhail to do something with his eyes, but Mikhail didn’t want to die this way.

  “Mikhail, go stand by Viktor. Put your shotgun and keys on the table,” I snarled.