by Marie Astor
“But I’m also on the side of reason,” Laskin said pleadingly. “Please, Janet, won’t you reconsider—”
“I knew it!” Janet cut him off. Just then the elevator doors opened and Janet stormed out into the lobby, leaving Laskin in the dust.
Janet was about to walk out through the revolving door when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Save it, Peter,” she snapped without looking. “You don’t have to be involved if you’re scared, but you won’t change my mind.”
“Janet, I was wondering if I could have a quick word?” A hushed whisper made Janet stop in her tracks.
“Anne, I’m so sorry! I thought you were someone else. What are you doing here? I thought you went home,” Janet said, stunned to find Anne Waters loitering in the building lobby this late at night.
“Can we talk privately?” Anne asked.
“Sure.” Janet nodded, taking in Anne’s distressed appearance. Her gray bun looked like a beehive, her glasses were askew, and the bright lipstick she favored had smeared and seeped into the corners of her mouth. “Let’s step outside,” Janet said, alarmed.
They stepped outside and went around the building. Janet looked over her shoulder to make sure Laskin wasn’t following them and was relieved to see he was nowhere in sight.
“I think it’s safe for us to talk here,” Janet said once they’d turned into the quiet street behind their office building.
“Hold out your hand,” Anne whispered.
Perplexed, Janet did as she was told.
“I saw this fall out of Marshal Burke’s pocket,” Anne whispered, placing a thick roll of cash into Janet’s hand and quickly closing her fingers around it. “It’s all one hundred-dollar bills.”
“Are you sure?” Janet asked, catching a quick glimpse of the thick roll before shoving it into her jacket pocket. There had to be several thousands of dollars’ worth in it.
“I may wear glasses, but I’m not blind,” Anne said curtly. “It took forever to clear out Ham’s schedule for tomorrow. Finally, I was about to head home and decided to grab dinner at
the twenty-four-hour Chinese dive around the corner, being that I was starving and too exhausted to cook. And who do you think I saw as I was finishing my dinner?”
“Who?” Janet asked.
“Marshal Burke and Agent Lang walking by. Something about it seemed funny, so I dropped my dinner and followed them. It was dark and I kept my distance, so they didn’t see me.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“No. I was too far behind. But their body language was funny. Agent Lang seemed tense and Marshal Burke was being overly jovial, as if trying to smooth things over. Then they parted ways. Agent Lang turned right and Marshal Burke went straight and I saw something drop from his back pocket. I waited for him to turn the corner and then I picked it up. I was lucky the street was empty and no one had beat me to it. There’s got to be several thousands of dollars in there,” Anne added in a hushed whisper. “Why would someone carry several thousands of dollars in his pocket?”
“Thanks Anne.”
“I hope this helps,” Anne said meaningfully. “I know Ham’s been hard on you, but I think you’re right—you can’t trust the authorities. Hope this helps you find Dennis.”
Janet was stunned by Anne’s knowledge about the recent developments at the office. “You don’t miss a thing, do you, Anne?”
“I’ve got the eyes of a hawk and the hearing of a wolf,” Anne said proudly. “People don’t pay any mind to a little old lady and I like it that way. I hope this helps.”
“You’ve got no idea,” Janet muttered.
“Oh, I think I get the gist. Now, if you’ll excuse me, these old bones are killing me. Time for me to go to bed. I’ve had a very eventful day.”
“Let me catch a cab,” Janet offered.
“It’s all right. I’ll take a bus, like I always do.”
“I’ll walk you over,” Janet offered.
Anne gave her a sharp look. “I can manage, thank you very much. It’s you who should watch out more. Good night.” Anne turned around and started to leave.
“Good night, Anne. See you tomorrow.” Janet waited a few moments until Anne turned the corner. She turned around to head the other way and almost bumped into Laskin.
“Are you spying on me now?” Janet demanded.
“I’m not spying on you, Janet. I’m watching out for you. I’m on your side. I could’ve exposed you in the meeting if I wasn’t,” Laskin said, clearly hurt.
“I’m sorry.”
“What did Anne want?” Laskin asked.
“I thought you heard the whole thing,” Janet said defensively.
“No. I followed you to make sure no one else was following you.”
“Thanks.” Janet felt the heavy weight of the cash wad in her pocket. They were getting in deeper and deeper and she was beginning to doubt if they’d be able to make it out all right. She held up the wad of cash. “Anne saw this fall out of Burke’s pocket.”
Laskin’s jaw nearly dropped. “Whoa. So you were right after all. And here I was thinking you were nuts. I’m sorry, Janet, I’ll never doubt your instinct again.”
“So you’re in?”
“Yes, if you’ll have me.
“I need all the help I can get,” Janet said with a sigh.
“Then you can count on me.”
“Come on,” Janet said. “There’s no time to waste.”
Chapter 16
“So let me get this straight—not only is Mila missing, but now Dennis has also been kidnapped? I thought you people were professionals, but you’re a bunch of amateurs.”
At the angry sound of Philip Barrett’s voice, Janet wondered if involving him had been the right decision. Even though she wanted to yell right back at him, she forced herself to be calm—after all, she and Laskin were guests in Philip’s townhouse in Tribeca.
“And who’s this clown?” he added, pointing at Laskin. “Dennis Walker’s brilliant replacement?”
“This is Peter Laskin,” Janet explained calmly. “He works for the Treasury and he’s put his life and job in danger to help me.”
“I’m mainly here for moral support,” Laskin said shyly. “I can leave if you’d like—” Laskin rose from his seat.
“You did a hell of a lot more than that, Peter. And you’re not going anywhere,” Janet stopped him. “Philip, please, let me explain. I know it looks like we messed up—”
“Messed up?” Philip cut her off. “You realize you’re talking about Mila’s safety? Her life could be hanging by a thread this very moment. Why am I even wasting my time talking to you? I’m going to hire a private contractor to get her out—something I should’ve done from the beginning, instead of trusting you clowns.” Philip reached for his phone. “You can find your own way out,” he said curtly.
“Not if you want to know where Anton is keeping Mila,” Janet said calmly. “I realize you’re upset—I am too. But we’re dealing with some very dangerous people here and if you want to help Mila, you’d better listen to me.”
Philip put his phone down. “You have five minutes.”
Janet quickly gave Philip the summary of everything that had happened, including Dennis’s abduction, her and Laskin’s chase after Jess’s van, and their meeting with Agent Lang and Marshal Burke. It took longer than five minutes, but Philip didn’t object.
“Now, I know things didn’t go as planned, but Dennis was right—the Kovars do have someone on the inside helping them.” Janet held up the roll of cash Anne had found earlier and told Philip everything Anne had seen. “Why would a U.S. Marshal carry that much cash with him?”
“Because he’s on the take,” Philip said quickly. “Or he was trying to bribe someone. Marshal Burke is the mole working for the Kovars.”
“We don’t know how far this goes. Maybe it’s just Burke, but maybe it’s someone even higher up, giving him orders. Until we find that out, we can’t trust anyone at the U.S. Ma
rshal Service or the FBI. But to get Mila and Dennis out, we need the resources of the same caliber as the authorities would have—”
“Or a private contractor,” Philip cut in, his voice no longer irrational.
“Exactly. That’s why I came to you as soon as I could.” Janet stared squarely at him, hoping she wasn’t going to regret her decision. “Peter and I came to you,” she added quickly, remembering Laskin who was quietly sitting by her side on the couch. “Now, are you going to help us get Mila and Dennis out?”
“You made the right decision to come to me. And I’m sorry about my earlier outburst,” Philip added. “It’s just that I’m worried sick about Mila, but I see now that we have to work together to help her. I need to make a phone call.”
Philip picked up the phone. “Hi, Fred? Sorry for calling so late, but any chance you could swing by? Something very serious has happened and I need your help.”
“Is that the same Fred you hired to investigate the fire in Mila’s bar?” Janet asked after Philip hung up the phone. “Don’t you think we need someone with more muscle?”
Philip chuckled. “Fred’s got muscle. Looking into a fire was small potatoes for him, but he did me a personal favor. Fred used to be a big cheese in the CIA. Now he owns a private contractor agency. His services range from private investigations to sending in a squad of ex-FBI and ex-marine guys armed to their teeth. Is that enough muscle for you?”
Janet nodded. “I think so.”
“He’ll be right over. As soon as he has the full picture, he’ll get his guys on it.”
***
As he navigated a dark alley in Harlem, in his sturdy, thick-soled shoes, Marshal Burke appeared to be completely at ease—one would think he was a late night passerby heading home after a few drinks—but inside, he was trembling. In all his years of working for Edward Pierce, Burke had never been the one to seek his boss’s audience, until today. He’d known from the start, the job Pierce had given him would bring trouble and he’d been right.
“Dammit,” Burke cursed under his breath as his shoe slipped on a curb. He’d packed on a few pounds over the past few years and gotten clumsy, his former football player physique as forgotten as his high school years. Stress made him reach for comfort foods—mashed potatoes, barbecue ribs, hamburgers, and beer—he drank lots of beer. That’s what happened when one pretended to uphold the law, while serving one of the biggest crime lords. But as his girth had grown, so did his savings account. There was no way he would’ve ever been able to amass that much wealth as a faithful government servant and he was fine with the tradeoffs he’d made. He’d come pretty far for a son of a police officer, and until twenty four hours ago he’d had no doubts about his career going forward, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Burke made another turn and stopped in front of a back entrance to an old brick building. He’d reached his destination, but there was no doorbell or intercom. He shifted on his feet, deliberating what to do next. Before he could decide, the door opened and a dark figure in the doorway motioned for him to come inside.
“Marshal Burke,” the young, dark-haired man greeted him.
Burke grimaced—mention of his official title while visiting Edward Pierce didn’t exactly sit well with him. “Please, no need for formalities. Call me by my first name—Tom.”
“Yes, of course. My apologies. I’m Vladimir,” the young man spoke with an Eastern European accent. “Mr. Pierce is expecting you. I will lead you to him.”
Burke followed his guide up several flights of stairs and down a dark, winding corridor. Several burly men were guarding the entrance to a room at the end of the hall. Pierce’s guards were always on standby.
“Here we are,” Vladimir said, as he reached for a door handle. He opened the door and stood aside, waiting for Burke to enter. Burke was glad that Pierce’s bodyguards remained outside. He’d already incriminated himself enough—he didn’t need all of Pierce’s people to know he was on his payroll.
Standing in the doorway, Burke could see a round wooden table in the middle of the room with several men seated behind it. He recognized Edward Pierce as one of them, and he didn’t need introductions to know the other three. There was a bottle of what looked to be hard liquor on the table, shot glasses, and several plates with some sort of appetizers. Clearly, the men were celebrating. Burke didn’t like this one bit—he’d asked Pierce for a confidential meeting, but instead Pierce was springing a mafia shindig on him.
“Thank you.” Burke nodded dismissively at Vladimir and walked inside. For once he was thankful for his girth—it was hard to intimidate a two-hundred and forty pound man—or at least he thought so.
“Tom, how wonderful to see you.” Pierce stood up to shake his hand. “Come, sit.”
“Thank you,” Burke muttered. “I was hoping we could speak privately?” he asked huskily.
“You are among friends, Tom,” Pierce said jovially. “These men are forever in your debt. I wanted you to meet Petr, Anton and Roman Kovar who are well, alive, and free thanks to your nimble operation.”
A short, but broad-shouldered middle-aged man rose from his seat—Burke didn’t need an introduction to realize that this was Petr Kovar. “Tom, my nephews and I are eternally grateful to you,” he said with a sharp Czech accent, motioning at two dark-haired young men sitting next to him. “Up, you two nincompoops, show your respect!” he hissed and the young men bobbled up to their feet. “This is my nephew Anton,” Petr motioned to a bearded man in his thirties. “And this is Roman,” he motioned at his other nephew.
“We’re most grateful to you, sir,” the nephews muttered in unison.
“I’m glad to see you all in good health. I trust you didn’t get too roughed up during the transfer,” Burke quipped, wondering if he was ever going to make it out of this meeting alive.
“Nonsense!” Petr exclaimed. “It was the most pleasant journey I ever made,” he added with a laugh.
Pierce slapped Burke on the shoulder and pulled out a chair to his left. “Join us in our little celebration.” He motioned to a bottle of liquor on the table. “Have you ever had Becherovka?”
“I can’t say that I have,” Burke managed.
“It is my country’s drink,” Anton Kovar explained and was instantly smacked on the back of his head by his uncle.
“When Edward Pierce speaks, no one interrupts,” Petr Kovar cautioned.
“It’s all right. Young men can be impulsive.” Pierce chuckled, clearly enjoying his power. “As I was saying, Tom, you’re in for a treat.” He proceeded to pour the amber-colored liquid into shot glasses. “To Tom’s health!” he said smiling broadly and lifted a glass to his lips.
Burke knew better than to refuse. He shoved the gingery-smelling liquid down his throat, draining his shot, lest he should be deemed a lightweight. He considered himself to be a man of many talents, and holding his drink was certainly one of them. If need be, he was confident he could drink all of these gorillas under the table.
Anton Kovar reached for a plate filled with square pieces of pickled fish with toothpicks stuck into it. “Uncle, may I offer Mr. Tom a herring?” he asked reverently.
Kovar nodded. “By all means.”
“This is one of our country’s finest herrings.” Anton handed Burke the plate.
“Thank you.” Burke reached for a toothpick. He hated anchovies and this promised to be just as bad. Quickly, he shoved the fish into his mouth and swallowed.
“Another drink!” Pierce urged, refilling the glasses.
This time Burke drank gladly, washing down the pickled fish aftertaste. He placed the shot glass firmly on the table. Enough horsing around, he thought, even Edward Pierce would crap his pants if the FBI knocked on his door.
“Ed, I have some serious news,” Burke said firmly. He felt Pierce’s unblinking eyes burrowing into his face and stared back unflinchingly. Whenever one faced Ed Pierce’s icy blue eyes, one was bound to feel as though they were under a microscope. Ed Pierce never missed a
thing.
“What is it, Tom?” Pierce asked brusquely, instantly abandoning his celebratory tone.
“Today I received a very alarming phone call from the FBI,” Burke said slowly. “Apparently, there is an investigation into a kidnapping in which the primary suspects are Anton, Roman and Petr Kovar.”
“I see.” Pierce’s glassy eyes were fixed on his hands, as though he were studying something of great fascination.
Burke went on to give Pierce a full account of the investigation, including his meeting with Agent Lang, Janet Maple, Peter Laskin, and Ham Kirk. When he finished, he leaned back in his chair impassively and surveyed the expressions on the crooks’ faces around him. Pierce had promised him the Kovars would be quiet as mice if Burke got them out of jail. Burke held up his end of the bargain, but either Pierce had lied to him or the Kovars were operating without Pierce’s knowledge, and Burke was pretty sure Pierce wouldn’t take kindly to this discovery.
Pierce’s face turned stony. “Do you know anything about this, Petr?” He half-turned towards Petr Kovar and Burke could almost hear the poor man trembling. Before he ended up in jail, Petr Kovar was considered to be a very powerful man in the criminal circles. But every gangster bowed to Edward Pierce, and faced with the underworld czar’s wrath, few held their composure.
“No, Ed. I have no idea. But I promise I’ll find out,” Petr muttered.
“You will do no such thing, or have you forgotten you’re grounded?” Pierce spoke in a calm half-whisper, but the effect was more terrifying than if he’d yelled at the top of his lungs.
“Of course, Ed, of course. I didn’t mean nothing by it—” Petr muttered.
“If it weren’t for me, you’d still be rotting in jail. And I can put you back there just as easily as I got you out,” Pierce spat.
“Yes, Ed, I understand. My boys and I are most grateful for your generosity. I only meant that it’s possible someone on the street let out a rumor it’s my boys and I who did this thing— You know, someone’s framed us and I wanted to get my feelers out to see who it might be,” Petr Kovar rambled on.
