by G. K. Parks
Freddy wandered toward the bricks of cocaine, which I’d wrapped in evidence tape and labeled just like the confiscated stuff, along with the forged test results and tech’s initials. Hopefully, Vasili would believe it was legit, right out of lockup. The last thing I needed was for him to test it.
“What is this stuff?” Freddy held up one of the bricks. “Mind if I have a taste?”
“I do.”
He put the brick down. “I thought you were opposed to giving him back the drugs.”
“Those aren’t drugs. They’re baking supplies. Flour, cornstarch, sugar, that kind of thing.” I chuckled. “The woman at the register asked if I owned a bakery.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I was participating in a bake sale to raise money for refugees.”
“What’d she say?”
“She gave me five dollars.”
Freddy laughed. “And the tape and official forms, where did you get those?”
“The tape I had from when I swiped it a few years ago to use at a Halloween party, and the forms came off my printer.”
“If things don’t pan out, you might want to go into forgeries. Start with passports. We’ll both need a one-way ticket out of the country if Vasili finds out what you have in store for him.”
Sucking in a breath, I forced myself to focus on disarming the weapons. I didn’t want to think about what was to come. I’d sent an anonymous message to the head of the gang to tell him the Russians intended to double-cross him. I’d given vague details about a second buyer who offered more money for the product, which would explain any delay that might have occurred. I’d also alluded to the Russian’s unwillingness to deal with non-Russians and the possibility that the product might not be as pure as expected.
Without knowing if he believed me, I didn’t know what the gang leader would do. But he’d replied, and we had exchanged numbers. I told him I’d let him know as soon as I found out the time and place the Russians planned to meet with their other buyers. I’d been afraid to give too much away because I didn’t know how reliable my intel was. The local gang and foreign gangster could already be in bed together, but I counted on a level of distrust between the two.
“All right.” I finished removing the last firing pin. “Now I just have to load everything into the car.”
“Your car?”
“Hell no. I got a rental that doesn’t link back to me.”
“When did you become some secret, ninja spy?”
“When you weren’t looking.” I grabbed one of the boxes and sealed the top. “Do you mind helping me carry these downstairs?”
He looked at his nails, as if about to say he’d just had a manicure, but thought better of it and picked up one of the other boxes. “I did offer to help any way I could. I guess this is me getting off easy.” He laughed. “You know what, that sounds like a brilliant idea.” As soon as we loaded up the back of the SUV, he pulled out his phone and texted the woman from the other night. “You want to stick around for a few minutes and go out with a bang? She has a friend.”
“No, that’s how I got into this mess.”
* * *
I watched the reflected city lights dance across the water’s surface. This was a bad idea. Possibly the worst one I ever had. I never thought of myself as a killer. So what was I doing here?
I had spent the day collecting everything I needed to pull this off, but I was starting to have doubts. With enough time and planning, I could have devised a scheme to steal what I needed from the evidence room, but that would have required days or weeks of planning. Vasili didn’t give me that much time, and even if he had, he’d kill me. The tiny, naïve voice in my mind kept saying if I followed the rules and had been a good boy, he’d leave me alone. That voice sounded a lot like my father, but following the rules had never gotten me anywhere good. It had gotten me kicked out of the police academy and fired from my Wall Street job. No, rules were meant to be broken, which is how I ended up devising plan B.
Except plan B required precise timing. Whenever Vasili showed up, I’d have to get things moving. I still had two hours until deadline, but I arrived early at the wharf and found a spot where I could keep an eye on pier nineteen.
Getting out to stretch my legs, I opened the rear hatch and moved the guns into an extra large rolling suitcase before filling a second suitcase with the white bricks. Vasili should be pleased. These would replace what the cops confiscated, more or less. But he’d never see this as a completed business transaction. He’d probably kill me on the spot, or he’d use me to get more drugs or guns. Believing I could get in and out of the evidence warehouse would open up a whole new world to him. If he let me live, he’d never let me go free.
That thought hadn’t occurred to me until now. I slammed the trunk, more resolute in my decision, and got back behind the wheel. I looked down at the unregistered gun on the seat beside me. Killing Vasili held a certain appeal, but pulling the trigger would place an even greater target on my back. His family would want revenge, and this would never end.
I flexed my gloved fingers, comforted by the familiar creaking of the leather. Then I checked to make sure the gun was loaded; something I’d already done a hundred times. Even though I didn’t plan to shoot him, I’d do it if I ran out of options.
“You’re losing it,” I muttered, tucking the gun into my holster. My hands weren’t nearly as steady as they should be on account of the caffeine and adrenaline, but on the bright side, I was finally awake and alert. When this was over, I’d go home, pop a few more pills, and sleep for days. Or I’d die on the pier and sleep for all eternity. Either way, I’d get my rest.
Headlights bounced off the pavement, but the car kept going. I glanced at the neon display on the dash. It was too early. He shouldn’t be here yet.
Again, I considered phoning the authorities. But that’s how I got into this mess. Plus, power and money spoke volumes. Vasili would walk. I knew it in my gut, and once he was a free man, I’d be right back here or in worse shape.
My mind wandered to thoughts of Jade. Her gorgeous eyes and fiery red hair brought a smile to my lips. For the first time since she left the city and left me, I felt relief. Vasili didn’t know about her. He’d never find her. She was safe. No matter what happened tonight, she would be okay. That consoling thought bolstered my confidence. I could do this. I had to do this.
Settling deeper into the seat, I checked the time again and reached for the burner phone. Instead of messaging Freddy, I sent another anonymous message to the gang leader with the place and time of Vasili’s alleged double-cross, a.k.a. his meeting with me.
The seconds ticked by faster and faster. I could feel the end getting closer, the air electrifying. Surprisingly, I wasn’t afraid. Okay, maybe a little, but I was also exhilarated by the adrenaline high. Any minute now.
As if on cue, an Escalade parked in front of the pier. Two men got out. Even in the dim lighting, I could see the machine pistols hanging at their sides. The one on the right opened the rear door, and Vasili Petrov stepped out.
I typed another text message, put the rental in gear, and drove the few yards to the pier. Parking at an angle with the rear corner facing the waiting Russians, I took a deep breath and opened the car door. It was game time.
“Mr. Cross,” Vasili smiled, his accent more pronounced, “what happened to your face?”
“You should know.” I glanced at his men but didn’t recognize either of them. “Where are Boris and Natasha?”
“Who?” he asked.
“Never mind.”
“Do you have my shipment?”
“Did you get my message? Trey Knox is off limits. You don’t touch him. His debt is forgiven. Understand?”
“That matter doesn’t concern you.”
“Consider me concerned. How much does he owe you?”
“You mean before all the additional trouble he caused?”
“Yeah, before that.”
“Seventy-five.”<
br />
I whistled. “That’s a lot of money. He didn’t borrow that much.”
“He also didn’t pay. I have a business to run. Surely, a man of your nature can understand that.”
“I can.” But I didn’t have that kind of cash, and neither did Knox. “I want you to be compensated for the initial loan.” I tossed the MVP championship ring to Vasili. “Sports collectors will pay through the nose for that, possibly even double or triple what it’s worth. Will that cover it?”
Vasili held the ring up, examining it beneath the dim lights. “Da. I have grown weary of Mr. Knox and his peculiarities.” The Russian tucked the ring into his breast pocket. “I’ll consider his debt paid in full if you delivered my shipment. If not, neither of you will enjoy what happens next.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I got your drugs and guns. The rest of that crap wasn’t worth the effort.” I clicked the hatch release. The lights flashed, and the rear gate popped open. I took a step back and to the side, catching a glimpse of two approaching vehicles. Who knew gangs were this punctual?
Vasili said something in his native tongue, and the man on the left lifted the hatch and pulled one of the suitcases closer. He unzipped it and took out an assault rifle, examined it, put it to the side, inventoried the rest of the contents, and said something to Vasili.
“How’d you get them out of evidence?” Vasili asked.
“You know who I am. You know who my father is. How do you think I got them?”
He chuckled. “You said it couldn’t be done. This just proves anything can be done with the proper incentive.” He said something to his men, and the one exploring the cargo hold checked the rifle and offered a response. Vasili frowned. “The guns are empty. Where are the bullets?”
“Bottom of the bag.”
The enforcer peered inside again, finding what he was looking for and loading the rifle he had placed to the side. The last thing I needed was for him to test fire it. I needed more time. Just a few more minutes for the gang to get here and break up this little shindig. Another thought came to mind. Would I die in the crossfire or by gang bullets since I was an alleged interloper? My brilliant plan didn’t seem as brilliant as it had ten minutes ago.
“Whoa there, cowboy,” I said to the man holding the rifle. “Don’t you want to see what’s behind door number two first?”
“Ivan, not yet.” Vasili shook his head, and the man lowered the gun. “Open the other bag.”
Ivan unzipped the suitcase and held it open for Vasili to see. The white powder bricks practically glowed in the dark. The Russian licked his lips and eyed the police evidence labels, complete with case number and initials. He believed this was their stash.
“All right, comrade. You’ve impressed me. Knox is forgiven,” Vasili said. “I’ll let him live out the rest of his worthless life. He’ll probably die old and pathetic.”
Ivan zipped the second suitcase, hefted it out of the trunk, and rolled it to Vasili’s vehicle. He secured it in the back seat and shut the door. Then he returned to the rental and picked up the rifle.
“What are you doing?” I asked as Ivan pointed the rifle at me. My gaze darted to the two vehicles. By now, they had parked a hundred yards away. I thumbed the phone in my pocket, hoping to hit the right button to send the pre-typed text. That was one of the few benefits to flip phones, besides the price and disposable nature. “I thought we were square.”
“You interfered in my business. You stole from me. No one steals from me, Mr. Cross. Not even you.”
Ivan squeezed the trigger, confused when it failed to fire.
“Did I mention I removed the firing pins?” I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled my gun, an untraceable piece my new Irish pals had included in our deal, and shot Ivan before he could switch to the machine pistol hanging at his side. The Russian stumbled backward. He didn’t even hit the ground before Vasili and the second enforcer opened fire.
I darted around the side of the SUV, running in a crouch. Bullets impacted all around me, leaving deep pockmarks in the metal shell. Skidding to a stop in front of the vehicle, I gripped the brush guard with my free hand and peered around the side. My breath came in ragged gasps.
“Don’t make this more difficult,” Vasili warned. “Accept your fate and die like a man.”
“You first.”
I fired blindly in Vasili’s direction. The Russians returned fire. Three sets of bullets rang out. Obviously, the man I shot had worn a vest, or this gun was a piece of crap. Another barrage blasted in my direction, shattering the side mirror and taking out the turn signal. That was close. Too close. I moved toward the middle of the SUV. Gunfire broke the rear window and burst through the front windshield, showering me in glass fragments.
Based on the footsteps, the two enforcers were coming around the side. I couldn’t stay here. Help wasn’t arriving. The gang leader, who I thought might save me, appeared to be taking his sweet time enjoying the crisp, night air.
“Stay back.” I slid to one side, firing blindly around the front tire before lunging to the other side and firing a few more shots. I heard a grunt, which I hoped meant I’d hit someone.
I’d lost track of Vasili. He probably went back to the car to stay warm. It was cold out, not that I’d noticed much of anything with the glass and bullets flying in my direction. All right, it was time to move on to plan C.
Across the parking lot were freight containers and some warehouses. A good fifty yards stood between me and the nearest structure. I couldn’t escape that way without getting a few more holes in my back. Considering my options were to stay here and die or make a run for it, I had to at least try to survive. Run in a zigzag. Don’t look back. Don’t stop moving no matter what. If I did that, I might survive.
Getting into position, I placed one hand on the ground in a runner’s lunge. Three. Two. Gunfire erupted behind me, and Vasili let out a surprised scream. I didn’t understand Russian, but from the gangster’s frantic tone, I knew the ambush worked. Vasili’s buyers, the gang, hadn’t been pleased by the delay. And they were even less pleased to learn Vasili had lied to them and decided to sell to a competitor for a higher price. The late night exchange and the bag of unidentified powder safely tucked in the back of the Escalade proved it. Vasili had double-crossed them. Plan B had worked.
But before I could celebrate this small win, I realized this left me with one big problem. When the gang finished dealing with the Russians, they’d want to knock off the competition. I had to get out of here.
More shots pinged against the rental, popping the rear tires with a sudden whoosh. Despite the crossfire, Vasili remained determined to kill me. Ivan had retreated, but the other enforcer continued to fire potshots along the driver’s side. I’d never make it across the parking lot, and with two busted tires and bullets flying, I couldn’t drive away. That left only one clear path down the pier. It was a long, narrow, straight line with no cover. By the time I made it far enough to board a boat, I’d be dead.
Fuck it. I edged along the front of the vehicle until I was positioned behind the passenger’s side tire. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out, sucked in another one, and burst into a run, firing at Vasili and the gang as I ran. I took two steps onto the rickety wooden pier and dove into the water.
The freezing cold assaulted my senses and instantly cramped my muscles, but I forced my limbs to obey and swam underwater beneath the dark pier until I reached the end. Surfacing, I gripped the wood piling and waited.
My teeth chattered, and I wondered if I’d freeze to death. My hands and feet were numb, and my legs were already tingling. I wouldn’t last in the frigid water much longer. Gunfire continued. A few shots nicked the wood above me, but the majority weren’t concentrated at the pier. A pained scream rang out, followed by another gurgling cry. That was the sound of men dying.
Soon, the gunfire abated. I listened, straining to hear over the lapping waves and the blood rushing in my ears. Was it over? I didn’t dare move. I wai
ted, knowing I couldn’t wait too long. The firefight would attract attention. I had to disappear, possibly forever. No, don’t think like that. Again, I found myself annoyed by the optimistic voice in my head, and for the thousandth time today, I questioned my own sanity.
Finally, I dragged myself onto the pier. The two foreign vehicles had vanished, leaving no trace of the gang’s presence, except for the Russians dead in the street. The back door of Vasili’s Escalade remained open.
As I approached, I recognized it as the white Escalade I’d seen parked outside Olympus. I hadn’t imagined it. Vasili had been keeping tabs on me. That’s how he knew which club I started going to and how to tell one of his working girls to approach me. He’d been observing, but for how long? Had he been watching me since I took Trey Knox’s case? He must have known what I was up to. But why? How?
I didn’t have time to think about it now. The cops were on the way. The suitcase with the fake drugs was gone, but the bag of assault rifles remained. At least those would be off the street, even if I’d paid a hefty price to get them here, a price that might fund the IRA or whatever Irish resistance group currently existed. But I’d have to find a way to make peace with that. It had been the lesser of two evils, or so I hoped.
I’d been extremely careful. None of this connected to me. The gun, the phone, the car, they’d all been untraceable and disposable. For the first time in twenty-four hours, I didn’t have to look over my shoulder. Only one thing could connect me to this scene, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave without it.
“I win, asshole.” I looked down at Vasili. The large man had been struck at least six times. I reached into his breast pocket and removed the ring. That was the only damning piece of evidence. And now it was gone.
Sirens grew louder in the distance. The police could clean up the mess. Secure in knowing I was finally safe, I wrapped my arms around my shivering body and set out for the nearest bus stop. From there, I called a cab and went home.
