by KJ Kalis
Michelle brought a tray of food to him, the steam curling in the dry air of the plane. She set the white bone china plate and silverware out in front of him after she had covered the tray table with a starched linen cloth. The food smelled delicious, the scent of roasted beef tenderloin, spring vegetables and rice pilaf filling his nose. “Would you like another scotch now, sir? Or would you prefer wine with your dinner?”
Christopher nodded, chewing his first bite of the tenderloin. “Yes, please. A red would be fine. Whatever you have on board.”
He took another bite, thinking about the Rusu family and the fact he was being called to London as he ate his dinner. Normally, if the client was upset with you, they suggested that you fly commercial. They might say that the plane wasn’t available or not even offer it. In this case, the family had sent their own private jet to get him. That was a good sign. Maybe they had another project for him.
He knew there was one problem he would have to face, and he hoped they weren’t looking for an immediate answer. He would need to replace Hailey. Finding talent like hers was difficult, if not nearly impossible. In a way, that’s what made it fun.
There were literally thousands of art schools internationally. He used artists from all corners of the globe — Asia, Africa, North America and Europe. But this was the first time that a client had asked him to end someone’s life. He wanted to think that he felt upset about it, but he didn’t. Finding a way to kill Hailey had just been another part of the game. Once he had found the bookie that handled Oskar’s debts, the rest had been easy. The bookie had provided him with the names of several people that owed him a lot of money, and when he found out that Oskar was a psychiatrist, it seemed to be a perfect fit. The rest of the problem was on Oskar.
Realistically, Oskar should have been able to walk away without a beating and without being killed. But, for some reason, the bookie had taken extreme action. Christopher was aware that the Rusu family knew of the plan. They approved it before he acted. He had been prepared that Hailey would die. He didn’t realize that the family might do an end-run around him and kill off Oskar as well.
He shrugged, putting a piece of baby carrot in his mouth, the taste of balsamic vinegar and ginger plus the sweetness of the carrot, running across his taste buds. Oskar could have been useful in the future, but now that wasn’t an option. Christopher realized he might have to reevaluate his relationship with the family once this transaction was over. Not that getting out of these arrangements was easy, especially given the fact that he had worked for Marcus for so many years. Christopher was an independent man, or at least he liked to think so. With five different passports with five different names, he could literally disappear anywhere in the world and no one would be able to find him. Or at least he hoped that was the case.
33
Kat heard Henry rattling around in the kitchen. It was early. As she turned over, she heard his phone ring. “Yes?” he said with a whisper, probably trying not to wake her. Kat yawned. There was no point in him being quiet now. She was up.
She swung her legs out over the edge of the couch and sat up, stretching her arms up overhead. Sleeping on the couch hadn’t been too bad. She looked at her phone. It was six o’clock in the morning. That meant it was one o’clock in the morning at home. She sent a quick text to Van, wondering if he was still awake. He texted back. “Heading to bed. How are things?”
“Just waking up. It’s going to be a long day. The detective from Savannah arrived last night. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Okay. Going to bed. Love you. I’ll kiss Jack.”
Kat got up and walked to the bathroom, anxious to brush her teeth. It seemed that no matter how much water she drank she couldn’t get herself hydrated. It felt like she had slept with a sock in her mouth, the fuzz sticking to every surface.
Kat used the bathroom and brushed her teeth, the mint taste making her feel better. She washed her hands and walked out, turning her head to see where Henry was. He was still on the phone, pacing back and forth, his black hair in a swirl, as though he had gotten caught in a windstorm while he slept. Kat smiled. She had only known Henry’s ex-wife Bev for a day before she had passed away, but she could very well imagine Bev scolding Henry for his wild hair.
He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen ending the call, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No problem. I’m a light sleeper.” Kat blinked and swallowed trying to fight off the last bit of drowsiness from the sleep that she did get. “What’s going on? Did you get any news?”
“In fact, I did. We need to go to the office as soon as we can get everyone up and ready.” Henry picked up the teakettle from the counter, “But before we go, I’ll start some tea. We can pick up breakfast on the way into the office.”
Kat nodded, “I’ll leave it up to you to wake up the guys.” She walked back over to the end of the couch, knelt down, and tipped over her suitcase, tugging at the zipper. She pulled out a clean change of clothes. She needed a shower before they could start their day. The last one that she had had was in Savannah, which felt like a lifetime ago. She glanced at Henry, who was fussing with mugs and tea bags. “I’m going to get a quick shower before we go. I’ll be no good to you otherwise.”
“That sounds lovely.”
By the time Kat got out of the shower, she heard more voices in the kitchen. Eli and Carson were sitting on stools, sipping hot mugs of tea. It looked like Carson had grabbed a quick shower too. “Good morning,” she said, pushing her blonde hair behind her ear. It was still wet from the shower.
“Morning,” Carson muttered. He seemed uncomfortable.
Kat put her old clothes back in her suitcase, zipped it closed and stood it up in the corner of Henry’s living room. “So, what’s the plan?”
Henry took a small sip of his tea, blowing on the edge of the cup, trying to cool it. “Well, when all of you are ready to go, we will head to my office. There is a little café on the way we can stop to get a few breakfast sandwiches.”
Carson frowned, “I don’t understand. I’m all for getting an early start, but why the rush to get to your office?”
“Ah, yes. That piece of information might be helpful. The problem is I’m not exactly sure. Mary, the customs official we met last night, has asked to meet us. She said she has information.”
Kat nodded. She was hoping that Mary could shed some light on what had been going on. Hopefully, that would help them to put all the pieces together.
Within a few minutes, the four of them had finished what they needed to do at Henry's house and set out for the Scotland Yard offices. It wasn’t a long drive, just about ten or fifteen minutes. As Henry backed the car out of the driveway, Kat spotted a cab parked across the street. “Henry? Do you see that?”
“What?”
“The cab. There is a cab parked right across the street.” Kat’s heart started to beat a little faster. Was it the same cab from before? She stared at it, not sure. It appeared to be empty.
“Oh, that. Yes, my neighbor is a cab driver. He sometimes parks there when he’s not at work.” As Henry turned the sedan down the street, he glanced over his shoulder. “Strange thing, though. The number that’s on that cab isn’t the same as the one he drives. Maybe he’s driving a loaner…”
Although Henry didn’t seem to think that the cab parked across the street was anything of a threat, Kat’s gut told her otherwise. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile from racing up her throat and into her mouth.
It didn’t take long for the four of them to grab some breakfast at a local café drive-through and get to the office. By the time they got there, Mary was waiting for them in Henry’s office.
Henry gave her a nod, “Why don’t we move down to the conference room? There’s more space.”
The conference room was spacious compared to the offices that were in the building, Kat noticed. She sat her backpack down against the wall and pulled up one of the chairs that were on
the far side of the table. The room itself had been painted in an off-white, the flag of England framed at one end of the room and the seal of Scotland Yard on the opposite wall. There were two windows on the widest wall, facing the parking lot. Eli sat next to her, with Henry and Carson on the other side of the table. Mary put down a stack of files at the head of the table that was closest to the door.
There was a crinkling of paper as the group started to eat their breakfast. Henry took a bite of his sandwich, and said to Mary, “Why did you call us all here so early?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. We had some findings overnight that I thought might be critical to get to you. It could influence your investigation. Didn’t want to wait on that.”
Henry nodded, “All right, go ahead. We’re all ears.”
Mary took a deep breath and flipped open the file that was on the top of the stack. Kat watched. From what she could tell, Mary was careful and highly detailed. Her uniform was almost as neatly pressed as Carson's suit. She tried not to giggle. This was a serious situation but noticing people’s idiosyncrasies was funny at times. She looked back down at her sandwich and took another bite, forcing herself to concentrate. The thought of laughter made her think of Jack. She wondered how he was doing.
“As you know, we discovered a shipment of highly toxic carfentanil hidden within the packing peanuts of the crates that you followed here from New York. In addition to the crates, we isolated more than thirty oil paintings that your art expert identified.” Mary gave a brief nod to Eli, who nodded back. “As of the last time we spoke, we were still working on how the drugs got into each peanut and figuring out how much drug material we could recover.”
“And you figured that out?” Carson asked.
Mary looked at him strangely for a moment. Kat realized that they hadn’t met before. “I’m sorry. Carson, please meet Mary. She is our contact for the investigation. Mary, please meet Detective Carson Martino from the Savannah Police Department.”
Mary blinked. “Pleasure.” She reshuffled the papers for a moment, clearly looking for information so that she could answer Carson’s question. “We did. William figured out that there were approximately three grams of drug material in each peanut. From our initial testing, it looks as though each peanut was first injected with a hot solution to melt the interior of the peanut followed by another injection of the drugs. As of this morning, we had recovered three kilos of the drugs.”
Kat frowned for a moment. “Mary, what is the value of those drugs?”
Mary lifted her eyebrows, “That’s an excellent question. Whoever sent them probably paid about one million US. There’s a difference though with the street value.”
“And that is? I’m not super familiar with putting drugs on the street.” Kat looked at Carson. He was smiling.
“You aren’t? I’m surprised by that,” he quipped.
Henry closed his eyes for a moment. “Sorry, Mary, you’ll have to forgive these two. You know, Americans. Please continue.”
“Yes, of course. Kat, to answer your question if we found one million worth of drugs, they would likely be worth three to five million on the street. That would be in US dollars of course. The chemical content of the drugs that we recovered is pure. That was the reason that William used the isolation chamber in order to test them. Even the slightest whiff of carfentanil could kill you. Drug dealers generally cut the substance with other drugs, things like cocaine and heroin. They’ve also been known to use toxic substances like cleanser and even icing sugar.”
Eli leaned over to Kat and whispered, “Icing sugar is our powdered sugar.”
Henry balled up the paper that his breakfast sandwich had come in and pitched it towards the wastebasket, missing. “Were there contaminated packing peanuts in every crate?”
Mary nodded. “Yes. All three crates had packing peanuts that contained drugs. We are still testing the last batches, but it looks like most of them were contaminated.”
Carson stood up from the table, pacing behind the chairs. “I just don’t understand how all of this fits together. So, what did they do? Do they hire Hailey to paint the canvases just to use them to send the drugs overseas? That doesn’t make any sense. They could have purchased anything to ship with the packing peanuts.”
Eli nodded, “I agree with Detective Martino. Each one of those canvases could have taken weeks to prepare. There had to be a more efficient way to ship things across to Europe other than artwork.”
Kat looked down squeezing her hands together. She felt like they were on the verge of something, but she didn’t know what. “I think Carson and Eli are on to something,” she said. “Honestly, if the goal was just to ship the drugs, why not use something that was pre-manufactured and easy to get?”
Mary glanced at each of them, “We came to the same conclusion. That’s where things get interesting. It’s the real reason I called you into the office this early.”
Kat felt like Mary had buried the headline.
The room was silent, everyone looking at Mary. Kat hoped she would be able to shine some light on how the pieces of this case fit together. The frustration had gone on long enough.
Mary cleared her throat. “It seems there is a link between the artwork and the drugs. Detective Martino,” she glanced at Carson, “I’m not sure how this ties into your case in the States, but let’s see if this starts to fill in some blanks.” Mary passed a yellow manilla file out to each person. The front of it was emblazoned with the crest of the British customs unit. Mary continued, “If you open the file, on the left-hand side you will see that I’ve placed information for you on typical issues that we see with imports and exports in and out of England. This is background information, but I thought it would be helpful. As you can see, the fourth-largest group of imports and exports that come in and out of the country are pieces of art. It’s not unexpected that we see crates of art come through. We deal with them nearly every single day. What happens to them afterward is where things start to get interesting.”
Kat stared down at the file, scanning the list. On it were items you would expect to see an import list, things like foods, wine, furniture, rugs, and clothing. She knew many of these things never made it to the warehouse. Larger shipments of things like medical supplies, tools and electronics in shipping containers were generally checked at the port. At least that’s how it was done back home. One day, she had taken Jack down near the ports in California. While they couldn’t go inside, Jack loved looking at the enormous cargo ships offloading their colorful containers.
“I checked back to see if we’ve had other shipments from this particular import-export company. If you’ll flip the page over, still staying on the left side, you’ll see that the company Romanian Imports, Inc., was started roughly fifty years ago by Marcus Rusu.”
Eli sucked in his breath, “Do you mean Marcus Rusu?” The color drained from his face.
Kat scowled. “Eli, what has you spooked?” She glanced at Mary and Henry. “I’m sorry, who is this Marcus person?”
Mary nodded, “If you’ll flip to the next page, you’ll see a photograph of him and his children. I’ll give you a quick rundown. Mr. Rusu is the head of what we believe to be one of the largest family organizations in Romania. They work throughout Europe.”
“Are you saying they’re an organized crime family?” Carson asked.
Mary nodded. “Definitely. Marcus and his brothers started the family business about five decades ago. The other two brothers were killed in organizational squabbles, you could say. If you review the page in front of you, you’ll see that Marcus has three children: John, Stefan and Stella.”
Kat stared down at the pictures of them. Marcus looked to be a distinguished older gentleman with salt-and-pepper gray hair, square glasses and a mustache. His sons had jet black hair and yet his daughter was blonde. “Where is the wife?”
“Christina? She’s deceased. She committed suicide when the children were little. Marcus never remarried, but I heard he has had a
string of girlfriends.”
Kat bit her lip. “I just want to clarify. You are saying that the drug shipment and art that we found belongs to the Rusu family?”
“That’s our suspicion.”
Carson cleared his throat. Kat glanced over at him. He was flipping through the pages on the right side of the folder even though Mary was only walking them through the pages on the left. When she looked at Henry, he was doing the same. Mary was about to say something, but Carson interrupted. “How far of a reach does this family have?”
“Excellent question. As far as we can tell, it’s global. I’ve reached out to the FBI to get more information, but they are being notoriously slow about responding. You know, Americans.”
Kat smiled, appreciating the fact that Mary was trying to joke with them while they were in the middle of this serious briefing. “How do the art and the drugs tie together? I’m still not seeing a connection.”
“Another layer to the story, I suppose,” Mary said. “Based on the research I was able to do, it looks like Marcus gave significant portions of the business to his two sons about fifteen years ago. They are a few years older than their younger sister. Stella went to university here in London and graduated with a degree in philosophy. She was a particularly good gymnast, from what I can tell. She almost went to the Olympics for Romania but injured her ankle during the trials and was unable to compete. Apparently, the family money was unable to buy her a spot on the team.” Mary raised her eyebrows, “Once Stella graduated from college, we believe she joined the family business. There is no record of her having any other job that we can find.”
Henry lifted his head, brushing his hair away from his eyes. “What part of the business did Marcus give her?”
“The import-export business.”
No one said anything for a moment. It seemed that Mary was giving them a chance to absorb the information she had thrown at them rapid-fire. Kat flipped back through the pages in the folder. It was a lot to digest in such a short time. “Well, I think the picture is starting to come into focus. This certainly makes sense with the threat I received.”
