Finally, Sukol said, “Like you say, who gives a shit once you’re dead.”
“I agree. But trust me, some guys really freak out at the idea of getting eaten by a bunch of filthy mongrels and mastiffs. I’m like you. It’s the dying that I’d worry about. Just withering away down here in the dark. You’ve only been here about a day.” Beck shook his head, thinking about it. “You ever starve for a long time? You start really going nuts.”
Sukol had to concentrate on not screaming at Beck to shut the fuck up.
Beck let silence fill the dark basement as the Maglite beam drifted back toward Sukol’s cell. And then he said, “You’re thinking about how you can persuade me to kill you some other way instead of letting you just lay in there and die. Something quicker. You’re also thinking, fuck him. Markov’s men will be here some time or other. They’ll find me.
“But I won’t kill you any other way, because there’s no percentage in touching you. Or getting close enough so that you can touch me. I won’t put a bullet in you because that causes lots of other problems.
“And as far as waiting for that bald motherfucker or anybody else, forget it. This place isn’t anywhere near where they think I am, so even if they find me, they won’t find you. Nobody knows about this place. Nobody will find you, or hear you. There’s nothing above you or around you that has anything to do with me.”
Beck waited again. Letting it sink in. Then finally said, “And face it. Who’s looking for you anyhow? Who really gives a shit about you?”
After a while, Sukol said, “Then why are you down here?”
With that question, Beck knew he had a chance. He just had to play it carefully.
He turned off the Maglite. Beck suddenly felt exhausted. He’d had very little sleep since this all started. The cold basement pressed in on him. The knife wound on his thigh ached. Every time he moved pain flashed in his upper back. There were tender bruises everywhere: his arms, hips, ribs. And the constant tension was making his lower back stiff.
There was a row of brick pillars holding up the floor above the cellar. One of them stood opposite the cell, about five feet away. Beck sidled over to it, eased himself down onto the cold concrete floor, and leaned back, arms around his knees. He felt the moist cold from the floor seeping through the seat of his black jeans. He tried to position himself so his lower back stretched out.
Beck repeated the question. “Why am I down here?” He waited a few moments. “Sometimes it’s good to go back into the hole.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve never been in solitary confinement?”
Sukol didn’t answer.
“I did twenty-eight days once. Then another time, fourteen days. The fourteen days was worse than the twenty-eight. By then, I knew what I was looking at. The first time they turned the lights off and on, I thought I might not make it. But then your eyes get used to it. Yours are all fucked up now that I’ve brought some light in. You won’t be able to pick anything out for hours.
“And it’s almost worse when the lights come on. I was never sure they weren’t fucking with me. How long was it between dark and light? Eight hours? Six. Ten. A half hour. I was convinced they were using the lights to drive me nuts. But maybe I already was.”
Beck lapsed silent. Thinking back on it.
“So you come down here to remember how crazy you are?”
“You think that’s it?”
“No. I think you want to use me for something.”
“What can I possibly use you for?”
Sukol sat up suddenly, swinging his feet to the cold basement floor. “Listen to me,” he said. “I know things. I don’t give a fuck about Markov or Stepanovich. Stepanovich is a maniac. I hate that guy. I was just in it for the pay.”
And then Beck knew he had him.
“Uh, what the hell is your name, anyhow?”
“Ahmet.”
“Ahmet, why the fuck would I believe anything you say? You’re with the guys trying to kill me.”
Ahmet started talking. Fast. His Slavic accent became more pronounced the faster he spoke.
“Don’t believe me. Just listen to what I tell you. Then you keep me locked up here until you find out I told the truth. Once you know I tell you the truth, you let me go. Believe me, you will never see me again. I walk away. Nobody ever sees me again. For sure not that fucking piece of evil shit Stepanovich.”
Sukol waited but Beck said nothing. Beck wanted to let the man talk.
“Trust me. My best chance to walk away is if Stepanovich is dead. He’ll fucking shoot me the next time he sees me just because I’ve been with the enemy. I’ll tell you anything I can to help you kill that fucker. If you have any brains, you kill him the next time you see him. Just kill him. If he gets you, he’ll do shit to you you can’t imagine.”
Beck laid his head back against the brick pillar. He could feel dried mortar and paint flecks falling against the back of his neck. He waited a full minute before he spoke. It felt like ten minutes to Ahmet Sukol.
“Where can I find Markov?”
Sukol answered without a second’s hesitation, eager to prove his worth.
“You can’t. You never find him. Not possible. He never stays in one place for longer than one night. Maybe two. He has some apartments and businesses scattered around Far Rockaway, Brighton Beach, but he doesn’t use them much. He keeps clothes in these places. Things he needs. He stays in hotels. Usually Manhattan. He always moves around. Has a driver who fetches his clothes, picks him up, and brings him wherever he wants to go.”
“How does he work?”
“Cell phones and computer. Laptop. It’s all in his head. Or on his laptop.”
Ahmet waved his hands in front of him. “Or somewhere in the cloud. He doesn’t leave a paper trail. He sleeps at night, at daytime. Always with drugs he operates. Always moving. He’s not like any human you know.”
“How do you know this?”
“Everybody around him knows this. It’s not secret.”
“Why does Markov need someone like Stepanovich?”
“He uses Stepanovich for personal security. Markov is paranoid. He’s a drug freak. He lives in his own world. He thinks everybody is after him. Maybe it’s true.”
“How does he know a criminal like Stepanovich?”
“How do you think? He sold arms into Bosnia for years. He knew plenty of men like Stepanovich.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not so long.”
“How do you know him?”
“Who? Stepanovich?”
“Yeah.”
“Mostly his reputation. He has a core of men who served with him. I didn’t know him in the wars. Besides them, he recruits whoever he needs. Like me. There are a lot of us around. Russians, Turks, Serbians.”
“Are there any warrants out for Markov in the U.S.?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. He seems safe in the U.S. I hear he runs a lot of arms for the U.S. military. Or the government. Your fucking government is arming half the world. They need guys like Markov.”
“Stepanovich isn’t going to protect Markov from a government.”
“You’d be surprised. Getting through Stepanovich isn’t easy. Gives Markov time to disappear. He’s the kind of guy that can walk out of a room, get on a plane, and be gone anywhere.
“But it’s not governments or police Markov worries about. It’s competitors. Business rivals. A maniac like Stepanovich discourages competition. Markov is always paying somebody for protection. Or bribing somebody.”
“Like Kolenka?”
“Yes. Kolenka is almost worse than Stepanovich. He will kill anybody. Very fast. He doesn’t care. Stepanovich will kill you, but he’ll torture you first and try to figure out ways to make pain. He lives on pain. Kolenka don’t waste time. With him you are dead before you know it.”
“How many men do you think Kolenka has?”
“I don’t know. The ones close to him have to be real R
ussian old-time thieves before he has anything to do with them.”
“What do you know about Kolenka?”
“Vory-v-Zakone. There’s a lot of bullshit built up about them, but Kolenka is real. You know about how it all started in the gulags.”
“Pretty much.”
“Well there aren’t many of the old ones left. But even without all the old stories, Ivan Kolenka is the real thing. He’s ruthless. He does crime up and down the East Coast. Lots of money from Ukraine. Some say even Chechen money. He has gambling money. Prostitution. He runs gasoline scams. Cigarettes. Extortion. He has construction companies. Restaurants. Crime and money. Crime and money. Anything. Robberies, insurance scams, murder, anything you can think of Kolenka will do it.”
“And Stepanovich? How many men does he control?”
“It goes up and down. He likes the ones out of his Serbian brigade. From the old times. But they come and go. Lot of them end up with immigration trouble. Maybe Stepanovich can call on six good ones. Maybe ten. Kolenka, maybe the same. Do they know how to find you?”
“Yes.”
Ahmet paused. “Then you had better run. They have many more men than you, I think.”
“Run where?”
Ahmet shrugged. “That’s for you to decide. Run far.”
“How will they come at us?”
“You think Kolenka will help Markov?”
“Yes.”
“Kolenka’s men will run the show. They don’t fuck around. They will surround you, burn your place down, shoot anybody who comes out. They will massacre you.
“If you don’t die and Stepanovich takes you, he will hurt you for days. Maybe weeks. Trust me. Better you take the bullet or burn to death. Better you run now. But maybe there’s no place they don’t find you.”
“Anything else you can tell me?”
“No. Not really. Are you going to fight them?”
“I’m not going to run.”
“Then do me one favor.”
“What?”
“Give somebody the key to this cell who can come let me out if you die.”
“Sure. One last question.”
“What?”
“Where can I find Kolenka?”
“I don’t know. I never have anything to do with him. I know he owns buildings in Little Russia. I don’t know where he sleeps.”
Beck slowly got to his feet.
“You want the lights down here on or off?”
Sukol answered quickly.
“On.”
Beck headed back toward the entrance to the basement.
“I’ll send some food down. Enough for a couple of days. One way or another, it should be all over by then.”
“And will you tell somebody about me?”
“Yes.”
As Beck approached the light switches, he heard Sukol yell out. “Whatever happens, make sure you kill Stepanovich.”
Beck answered by flipping on the overhead fluorescent lights as he ducked back into the tunnel between the two buildings. He checked his watch. Maybe he could get two hours of sleep. He needed ten.
59
When she entered his room, he was on his back, fully clothed except for his shoes, completely motionless, having fallen into a deep exhausted sleep.
Olivia sat on the bed next to him and laid her left hand on his chest, the one with the cast. The weight of it made Beck open his eyes.
She didn’t say a word. She waited, hovering over him until he focused on her face. Then she slowly leaned down and kissed him, taking her time, exploring his lips, her soft, full breasts just barely touching his chest.
She sat up and stared down at Beck.
The only light in the room came from a small lamp on Beck’s night table, turned half on. He checked the clock next to the lamp. 9:30.
Beck looked back at her.
Perhaps she’d come in to wake him before ten o’clock, when she was supposed to leave.
But this was not just a wake up. They both knew what this was.
What Beck didn’t know, was what he wanted to do about it. Reject her? Why? Just to show her that he was one man she couldn’t control?
Still, neither one of them spoke.
Beck could have reached up and gently pushed her aside so he could sit up. Or he could have reached up and touched her face, but he did neither.
Doing nothing ensured that something would happen.
She began to unbutton Beck’s shirt with her good right hand. Her encased left hand resting on his shoulder.
Before she reached the third button, Beck got up and started undressing himself.
Olivia stood up with him. She had changed from the white shirt into a black, long-sleeved knit top. She lifted it up and over her head, taking it off and letting it fall to the floor. She slid down her jeans and stepped out of them.
As he watched her, Beck unbuckled his belt and slipped off his black jeans.
Olivia waited, letting him see her in the flimsy underwear he’d seen hanging on the shower curtain rod at the Four Seasons. She looked even better than he’d imagined she would.
Beck stood wearing only his briefs. They looked at each other’s bodies, taking in the sight, both of them now seeing what they had pictured in their minds’ eyes.
He knew she was going to stand there until he moved for her. It would be the first time he reached for her. And she was going to wait, standing tall, unmoving, unflinching in her sheer black bra and black lace thong.
Beck smiled. The fucking bra and panties had to be black, didn’t they? He could see her nipples, dark areoles and a strip of pubic hair through the sheer material. There was no goddamn way this wasn’t going to happen.
Beck stepped forward, slowly put his arm around Olivia, and pulled her to him. Her skin, unimaginably soft and smooth, felt like a balm to him. Her lush body glowed with an inner heat. She put her long arms around him, held him, and kissed him again.
Beck didn’t want even the thin lacy fabric of her bra and panties between them. He unclipped her bra. It fell to the floor. He let go of her and sat back on the bed, reaching up to slide the thin straps of her thong down over her hips.
Olivia let the panties fall. She stepped out of her last bit of clothing and knelt in front of Beck to take off his shorts.
Beck lay back on the bed and lifted his hips so Olivia could strip him.
She spread his legs, and hands on his thighs, bent forward taking him in her mouth. Her thick dark hair fell over his lap as she moved. He could have let her do that for a long time, but he took her arms and pulled her up so he could see her face. Her skin glowed in the faint light from the lamp next to his bed.
For a fleeting moment, he thought about the fact that depending on what happened in the next hours, this very well might be the last woman he would ever make love to. And then he realized, no, there’s no love here. This is just sex. Just excruciating lust and sex. Without apologies.
He stopped thinking about what might happen to him. He refused to think about what might happen to Olivia.
Beck moved back onto his bed, Olivia following, swinging her long leg over him, gently coming to rest on top of him, straddling his hips, her soft backside against the rigidity of his almost painfully hard erection.
There was no pretense, no guile, no preening. Just the clear naked fact of it happening, now. Finally.
She placed both hands on his chest to steady herself as she rose up.
The cast on her left hand felt rough on Beck’s skin, reminding him of how unlike any other situation this was.
She maneuvered Beck inside her with her right hand, and he heard Olivia hiss with pleasure, a sound unlike any he had ever heard from any other woman.
She straightened up, then settled down even farther on him, pressing down and moving him all the way inside her as deep as possible. She pivoted her hips gently so as to completely engulf him. Beck felt her squeeze his cock, almost grabbing it, almost as if to say “this is mine. I have you now.”
&
nbsp; Beck watched her. He put his hands on her thighs, feeling the taut muscles of her legs, sliding his hands up to her hips, seeing the muscles in her stomach flex, watching the sway of her amazing breasts. He smiled at how absurdly perfect she was. Elegantly long and thin, and at the same time so full and feminine and sensuous. Her saw her eyes, her face, her thick gleaming hair.
She kept working him now. Pleasuring herself, pleased at knowing whatever she did, Beck would be swept up in it.
Beck let himself give in to her rhythm, timing soft thrusts into her, just to communicate that he was with her. She was clearly fucking him, clearly in charge, intent on gleaning every ounce of pleasure she could.
Olivia’s taking charge, being in control, made something deep in Beck give way. After the constant tension, maneuvering, calculating, he found himself immersed in mindless moments that left him with nothing to do but go along with her. Enjoy her.
She began to grunt softly. Her eyes closed, allowing Beck to watch her in his own private way. Beck felt captured. He had never felt that with a woman, ever. The freedom of it, the pleasure of it, the erotic force made his jaws clench. She was taking him away with her.
Suddenly, Olivia reached up with her right hand and caressed her breast, squeezing the nipple. And then she grabbed Beck’s right hand and forced him to do the same to her other breast and nipple.
Now she maneuvered herself so that she could stimulate her clitoris more. She held herself in position by placing both hands on his shoulders, one rough and chafing in the cast, the other soft and insistent, gripping his shoulder.
A light sheen of perspiration appeared on her chest. She was breathing harder now, giving out louder grunting sounds of pleasure. Beck squeezed her nipple, grabbed her ass.
“Harder,” she hissed. “Harder.”
He did. Doing whatever she told him. She slowed down, somehow grinding down even more on him, burying Beck as deep and as far as she could inside her.
And now she started to climax. In waves. Suddenly sitting up straight, grabbing her vagina with Beck inside. Forming a V around his cock between her middle and ring finger, stimulating herself and him, rocking now, finishing her orgasm, pulling every ounce of erotic pleasure out of her orgasm and pushing him to come. Beck thrust up into her and released. She reached around behind her and cupped his balls, helping him with quick caresses, draining him, finishing him.
Among Thieves Page 30
