Low men, p.35
Low Men, page 35
Obviously, the detective boyfriend had been sent to arrest him, foolish as he was to come alone. Vasiliy had vowed, in the depths of the Russian jail all those years ago, that he would never again be arrested. He'd devised a clean plan, only to be betrayed by the only girl he had a desire to love. But she was better as a tool, and he had used her well. It should not have surprised him to be betrayed. He saw the way she had looked at the money and thought for sure he had her. Old age must have dulled his intuition. This was to be his exit from a life of service to the Outfit. He had made them tens of millions on the stock short and was awarded the code to do with as he pleased. It was to be his retirement plan and Helen his prize. She had destroyed that. She would have to pay. Someone always pays.
The satisfaction of revenge driving him, Vasiliy moved through the wooded swamp with a purpose. He had cleared the mucky area and was now on more solid ground. He knew the area fairly well. He had already crossed the fire road running through the center. There was no place else he knew of where he could easily hide. There was just one thing to be done.
From the fringe of the palmetto scrub surrounding Kook's house, Vasiliy saw a soft glow from within the simple wooden shack. He knew Kook had weapons, but doubted he would be on lookout, armed and ready to shoot. Careful as always, he waited until the light went out.
Vasiliy left his luggage hidden behind the scrub and bolted from cover. He jogged quickly to the front door and, without breaking stride, he kicked it in at the door handle. He knew the house from previous visits, that the bedroom was down the hall to the right. In a few short strides, he was in Kook's bedroom. He was sitting up in bed. Even in the soft light of the waning moon shining through the dirty window, Vasiliy could see the look of fear on his face.
They stood for a few seconds, wordless. After a moment, he could smell the liquor on Kook's breath. "Dammit. Left the shotgun by the couch."
"You talked, didn't you." Vasiliy demanded.
"I didn't tell them nothin’," Kook said. "They tried, but I knew better."
"Then how did they find me out?"
"Can't say," Kook answered. "But I figured, once I saw on the news that there was a manhunt for you, you'd come here."
Vasiliy caught the motion of Kook's hand as it slid under the covers, searching. He lunged forward as Kook pulled his revolver from its hiding place. He got off a shot as he swung it around, but Vasiliy's experience had taught him that he had a few seconds between the thought of killing someone and actually pulling the trigger. He swung a heavy open hand and bashed Kook in the side of the head. He fell over and Vasiliy reached down and twisted his neck until he heard the satisfying soft crunches that meant death for Kook McGee.
Chapter 36
Mark sat at the foot of the bed, holding his phone. He watched her sleep and wondered if he had ever seen a more beautiful, more peaceful sight. She seemed to glow in the low light just before sunrise. He had risen early and gone out to find coffee. She had been undisturbed by his comings and goings. He laid down beside her in his jeans and a fresh V-neck and wrapped an arm around her.
She stirred and reached back for him. "You have your clothes on." Her face could not hide the disappointment. Her feet rubbed his as she searched for the warmth of his skin.
"I've been up for a bit," he replied.
She yawned deeply. "I didn't even notice," she said, then turned her head to look him fully in the eyes, her pupils huge in the semidarkness. The golden flecks of her eyes shimmered from the dark green nests of her irises. She gave him an intent look. "What does that mean? You can sneak in and out without me noticing..."
"Means you were in a deep sleep," Slade replied.
"Now I have to pee," she said with a simpering grin.
Mark watched her roll off the bed. She didn't bother trying to cover up. She twisted and writhed on her feet as she stretched, allowing him to soak in the skin shadows cast by her deep curves. She made a show of walking to the bathroom, one foot in front of the other. She flipped her head back and her hair flew around, then sauntered into the bathroom with her walk and slammed the door.
Slade immediately regretted what he'd done. But it couldn't be undone now. He had been compelled to give her a night. A night to sleep peacefully with the belief that her fantasies would come true. He had to let her live it, even if it would be for just one night. She had earned that much. He too, had wanted another night with her. He wanted her to believe she had flipped him so he could have just one more night in her arms, free like that, indulging the last shred of innocence she possessed, knowing that what was about to happen would strip Helen of her last vestige of trust in the good parts of the world.
She came out of the bathroom in his robe and searched for a bottle of water. She drank and rinsed, brushed her teeth. "I'm hungry," she said. "Let's go get breakfast."
Slade could only lay on the bed and watch as she dressed. She had brought a change of clothes that included jeans and a halter top. Her bare back was mesmerizing but out of concern, he stood from the bed and rustled around in her bag while she was in the bathroom with her makeup. He stepped in and offered her a blue cotton long sleeve button up. "It's a little chilly outside."
She frowned at him but didn't reply. A couple minutes later, she came out of the bathroom wearing the button up. She sat on the bed and pulled on her canvas sneakers. Then she walked over to her purse and began to go through it. "You're awfully quiet this morning."
She turned to look at him. He stared back from sad eyes as he lay on the bed. He finally sat up. She came around and sat beside him. "Mark, what's wrong?"
There was a sharp sound outside, a brake squeak as a car pulled up. They heard rustling outside the door.
"Helen, I'm sorry."
She stood, eyes wide. "Mark, what have you done?"
He stood and gave her an apologetic look. "I can't spend the rest of my life running. This is the only way."
A loud rap at the door. "This is the police. Open the door."
Helen's voice lowered, became feral. "What have you fucking done?" She lunged at him and began swinging, pelting him with open-and-closed hand blows.
She wasn't deterred when the door blew open and detectives poured in.
"You son of a bitch! I can't believe you would do this!"
The detectives rushed up behind her and attempted to pull her back. She grabbed his shirt. Mark did nothing, just watched as Helena descended into feral panic, like a wild animal that had finally been cornered after an exhaustive pursuit. She kicked at him, head swinging wildly, screaming like a banshee. "I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you, you motherfucker!" she snarled at them, teeth bared, and began twisting and pulling at their grasp. "Let me go! Get off!" Helena screamed from her gut, eyes bulging and biting like she would rip someone's throat out.
But the men were too big and too strong. They got her pulled back, then pushed her head down onto the bed. They shoved her face down into the covers as they pulled her arms back and cuffed her.
"Hey careful, you don't need to get rough like that. She's cuffed." Mark stepped forward but another officer pushed him into the wall. "Stay back, sir."
The officers pulled her up. She kept on fighting them, pushing, pulling at her arms, growling like a rabid she-wolf being pulled from a den full of her cubs. Mark did not even recognize her or the foulness that spewed from her lips. She was so wild she couldn't even focus her vision on anything. As they tried to push her out the door, she slammed her head into the door frame, knocking herself dazed as they led a stumbling Helen out the door and into the squad car.
The officer held Mark against the wall while two more detectives came into the room for a search. Mark watched as they looked around and found Helen's bag. One of them rifled around in it until he found what he had been looking for. A pair of thin leather gloves. He handed the bag to his partner and told him to confiscate it. Then they searched the dresser drawers, closet, bathroom, refrigerator, and back porch, but found nothing else out of the ordinary. They left without a word. The officer holding Mark gave him one more push, then stepped back and looked him up and down with disgust before leaving the room. Slade sat down on the bed, head in hands.
A few moments later, Shanda came into the room. She looked around before disturbing Mark. "Hey. Are you okay?"
Mark shook his head.
Shanda’s phone rang. It was the captain.
"Put me on speaker," he said.
"Mark?" Captain Mullens asked.
Mark looked up, eyes swollen, face white and drawn. "Yeah."
"As of now, you are on suspension without pay. Turn your gun and badge over to Shanda immediately," the captain said. "I'll wait on the line while you do."
Mark knew this was coming. He complied without protest. Shanda told the captain it was done.
"I will contact you for a disciplinary meeting soon. Until then, you are barred from coming into the precinct or being involved with this case in any way. Are we clear?" the captain said.
"Yes," Mark replied.
"Good," he said. "Shanda, you can leave him there to clean up his own mess." With that, the captain ended the call.
Mark looked up at Shanda. "It's okay. Go. I'll be fine."
She gave him a nod and left without another word.
❖
That afternoon, Mark backed Helen's BMW into his garage and let the door down. Once inside, Dawn greeted him with a wagging tail and soft nudges. He filled her water and food bowls and promised to walk her later. At the moment, he only wanted to shower and find some food for himself.
Evidence of her was everywhere. He was heartbroken over losing her. She had fallen into a deep sleep after their lovemaking, and he had laid awake with her in his arms, his mind going over what she had said. He came to understand that she'd been the architect of a subplot that had operated within Vasiliy's plans. She had orchestrated his demise and their escape. It was genius. She was the villain behind the villain. But she made mistakes that would implicate her and if he went along, he would be an accomplice. He had no choice but to turn her in while he still had the benefit of the doubt, even if it had caused him to be suspended.
But this could work to his advantage. He would now have time to work on her case exclusively. He knew the evidence that was stacked against her, but he was sure he could leverage that to get her to give up information on the Outfit. He knew he had pushed a button in her when he brought up the elusive clandestine organization. It had been the focus of the DEA investigation he was assigned to. The whole reason he was stationed undercover in Central Florida. The stock short led him to that topic with her. When he tried to make the link, she just shut down and became terrified. He had never seen her scared, even when it came to Vasiliy, a brutal killer. Surely, she knew something of his sordid past. But the mere mention of the Outfit had sent her into a panic.
He assumed that Vasiliy likely had ties with them. If she had screwed over Vasiliy, then the Outfit would not let that go, since he was their man.
With a pot of coffee on, he sat at the kitchenette and went to work, outlining everything he could remember. First, he knew her prints and DNA would be at Vasiliy's place on the lake. He was now the suspected killer of Frank and Johanas. This would look really bad since she was last with him just before he escaped. Even though Slade understood the truth, he knew it would be unclear to the detectives whether she was there with him when Slade arrived or not. Since Vasiliy had made a clean getaway, this evidence would implicate her as an accessory to murder. He knew they had no tracking on her after she left his house, not until Slade had turned his phone on, which he knew was being watched and would be traced.
If Vasiliy had not been caught in the woods, his walkaway escape theory could be dismissed. He might have made those tracks anytime within the days leading up to his disappearance. Maybe as another misdirection. Slade also knew, after a discussion with Kook about tracking, no one in the department understood much about footprints and tracking. Mark was certain Vasiliy would be counting on this, but couldn't be sure if they might bring in some specialist.
Second, Helen's prints and DNA would be found all over Frank's Aston. It was very likely she had at least gone somewhere with him recently enough to leave something behind. Even though the cameras had been out in the parking garage, the case could be made that she had led him into a trap to be killed by Vasiliy, who had likely disabled the security cams.
Third, he could be sure Helen was going to inherit something. Frank had at least protected his private assets from business losses by incorporating. He would most likely leave those assets to her in his will, along with his share of the company. Aside from the fact there was no one else in his life, Frank’s investors would want to be certain that there would be some continuity in leadership within the company should he pass unexpectedly. Since Helen sat on the board alongside her husband, it made sense. Mark imagined everything would be valued in the tens of millions. This would be seen as motive.
Fourth, she would be caught on camera renting a car with a fake ID, the same car found at Vasiliy's. All rental car offices now had cameras.
All this painted a picture of a very bad wife who partnered with a criminal to kill her husband and collect the insurance money.
Mark went to the coffeepot for a refill. He hadn't cleaned up anything from their night together. Didn't want to. He wanted to be reminded of her. Reminded of what he was doing and why. He had sacrificed his cover to get her out of harm’s way.
He knew there was no choice but to see this through, and he wondered if he had enough of an opening to get through and take down the Outfit. Helen could provide that opening if she chose to cooperate. He felt terrible for betraying her trust in him. But after last night, he knew she would never roll over on them of her own volition. He would never be able to convince her. At least this way she was safe, for the moment. Vasiliy could not get to her in jail. Mark would have to find him. But he knew he couldn't handle this man alone.
He called Sparkman. "Mark," he said. "Glad you called."
"It's time," he said. "I'm close enough now and need your help."
"Okay," Sparkman said as he rustled for pen and paper. "Go ahead."
Chapter 37
The next morning, Slade heard a sharp rap at his door. He opened it to find Sparkman and his partner, Agent Chris Abbot, both dressed in dark suits, white shirts, and dark ties. "Come in, guys. Good to see you."
"We stopped at Nature's Table like you said. Good stuff. Brought you a sandwich and coffee," Sparkman said.
"Thanks."
He led them to his dinette. Dawn came in from the backyard and inspected both of them with thorough sniffs. She settled in with Agent Abbot, rubbing her back.
Slade tucked his tie into his own white shirt and set into his sandwich right after asking, "Do you guys need to review my notes, go over anything before this morning's meeting?"
"No. I think we are good," Sparkman said.
"I appreciate you guys coming here to pick me up," Slade said, taking another bite.
"I think it's better if we arrive together, shows a united front, especially if we pull up in a government vehicle," Sparkman said.
"Has the captain reached out about your disciplinary meeting?" Sparkman asked.
"Not yet," Slade replied. "I'm not surprised you were able to get a meeting with him so fast, he almost never leaves the station."
"One of those," Agent Abbot said.
Slade gave him a puzzled look.
"Office Cop," Sparkman explained. "Calls shots from the comfort of his desk."
"Construction workers call this a truck boss. Sits in his truck in the a/c while his men sweat it out," Abbot added. "My brother, he works as a foreman. They hate that shit."
Slade nodded in agreement as he finished his breakfast. "Are we set up for that other thing?" Slade asked.
"Should be by mid-morning," Sparkman said. "We reached out to them yesterday. We expect a quick response."
"It's a no brainer," Abbot added. "Can't see them letting this chance slip by."
"Okay, sounds good. Give me a minute, guys." Slade went upstairs to finish getting ready, then reappeared. He gave Dawn a rub, checked her food and water bowls, then motioned to the DEA agents. "Let's go."
❖
Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot for the precinct. The three of them walked in the front door, Sparkman and Abbot leading Slade into the building. Slade felt a little self-conscious showing up at his precinct in a dark suit after months of wearing a polo and khakis. The entire bullpen went quiet except for whispers and rustling. One officer spoke up. "What's he doing here?"
At the reception desk, the officer on duty inspected the DEA badges. I can let you guys through." He pointed at Slade. "But not him."
"He is with us," Sparkman said. "Agent Slade, show the man."
Slade stepped up and handed his DEA identification to the on-duty officer. The officer's mouth went agape. Slade looked over the crowd of people staring at him from the bullpen. He didn’t see one friendly face, only looks of disgust and anger.
"I'll have to check with the captain," the desk officer said.
"No need," Sparkman said. He pointed his thumb over to Mark. "He can show us the way."
After collecting his ID, Mark led them into the stairwell. Once inside, he spoke, "Hope you don't mind. I didn't want to stand there waiting for the elevator."
They didn't comment as they made the stairs. Once on the third floor, they pushed through the door. Mark stepped aside, pointed at the captain’s office door, and Sparkman knocked.
The captain looked up and waved him in. "They called up and let me know you were on the way, but they said you had insisted on bringing..."
