Carson glanced at Battaglia. His mouth was set in a hard line as he watched. Carson put her hand on Robert’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Robert. No more questions, okay?”
“The questions don’t bother me,” Robert said. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his robe sleeve again. “I know you’re just doing what you have to do. It just rips me up. Like I said before, when she’s clean and sober, she is the most wonderful woman alive. And her figure comes back, too. God, for a woman of forty-five…”
“Alcohol changes people,” Carson said.
Robert nodded and wiped his nose again. “You know, they tell you in Al-Anon that you can’t make a person stop drinking. They have to want to stop.”
“I’ve heard that.”
“They also tell you that sometimes you just have to let a person sink to their lowest point.” Robert looked at Carson with a straight face. “I guess that’s what she did.”
Carson patted his shoulder and turned away. She bit the inside of her mouth and didn’t say another word while she waited for Finch to arrive. She ignored Battaglia’s inquisitive glances. Once the detective was on scene, Carson cleared the call.
Only when she was back in her patrol car and safely out of the neighborhood did she laugh aloud at Robert’s comment. Her laughter came in huge gulps of air, blasting out in high-pitched tones. She slapped the steering wheel.
“I guess… that’s… what she did,” she repeated in between the peals of laughter.
Now she understood Battaglia’s reactions. She understood, and because she understood, she laughed.
She laughed because Robert was right.
She laughed because it struck her as tragically funny.
She laughed until she had to pull into an empty parking lot and cry.
SEVEN
Thursday, July 17th
0756 hours
Valeriy rode in silence in the back of Sergey’s car. Black Ivan drove, guiding the sedan with expertise. He was Val’s go-to driver for the important jobs. Sergey sat next to him, also quiet.
Val pondered briefly what was going through the older man’s mind, but didn’t dwell on it. He wondered why there was no sense of elation or even satisfaction in his own demeanor right now. After all, things were playing out much as he wanted them to. Logically he should be feeling quite pleased with the turn of events. Instead, his stomach was laced with an uncharacteristic tightness. He combed through possibilities of what could go wrong with this play and those that followed.
Chickens are counted in autumn, he reminded himself.
As they neared the warehouse he felt Sergey get mildly restless beside him. He didn’t want his boss to be nervous. In fact, he needed him not to be. Sergey’s role was essential. He had to sell all of the other gang leaders on his position as the dominant player in their organization.
Most organized crime groups were not nearly as tight-lipped as their own. Some, in fact, were completely porous. If Sergey presented himself as the supreme Russian gang leader, that was the report that the police would eventually get as word filtered through the other gangs. That painted a huge target on Sergey’s back and left Val comfortably in the shadows.
“How many will be there?” Sergey asked.
“Five men,” Val answered. He had briefed Sergey at length on each of the five men before they’d left. But this was, he knew, Sergey’s process. He asked questions that he knew the answers to and then convinced himself of his own superiority because he’d already known the answer. Val found such circular logic largely false and weak, but recognized that Sergey needed the positive self-talk.
He wondered if any of the men still loyal to Sergey would remain so if they knew about this particular idiosyncrasy.
“And who of this group,” Sergey asked him, “is first among equals?”
“DeShawn Brown would be my choice,” Val said.
“And the Mexicans? They have chosen a new leader?”
Val shrugged. “One of their lieutenants has come to the meeting, the brother of the man we eliminated. He’s the one that I would worry about the most.”
“You mean for revenge?” Sergey asked.
“Yes,” Val answered. “That’s exactly what I mean. DeShawn Brown is largely a businessman. He may wish revenge at some point in the future, but right now he knows that he is outgunned. He’ll see the wisdom of complying with our modest demands.”
“But not the Mexican?”
Val shrugged. “I do not know much about this man. I do know that the Mexicans are a fiercely emotional race. He may attempt to take his vengeance out during this meeting, but I doubt it.”
“What precautions have you taken to avoid it?”
“I have three men on the second level of the warehouse. All three have rifles and scopes. One of them will remain on this Mexican for this entire meeting. The remaining two will be responsible for two men each.”
“Outer security?”
“Three men at the front door,” Val said. “Three more on the inside.”
“Watching how many?”
“Each leader was allowed to bring a driver and one lieutenant. That is all. Both must remain outside.”
“And they agreed?”
Val shrugged. It had not been easy, but what choice did the men really have? “This is our meeting, so our rules.”
Sergey glanced at Val. “And what would you say to these men if you were attending this meeting in my place?”
“I believe we are best served with brevity,” he replied. “I would avoid any discussion about the events that brought us here, beyond recognizing that they occurred. Lay our offer on the table. Remind them that it is generous, and that it is non-negotiable.”
“And then?”
“Don’t give them time to think about it,” Val said. “Demand an answer before they’re allowed to leave.”
Sergey pursed his lips. “An answer drawn out by force is likely to be an untruthful one.”
“Possibly,” Val answered. “But it makes no difference. We are not bluffing. If a man in that room gives a false promise, we will deal with him. And that will only serve to drive home our point to those who remain.”
Sergey nodded his approval. “You are a wise lieutenant, Valeriy,” he said. “Perhaps I misjudged you when it came to strategic matters.”
“I am only trying to emulate you,” Val said.
“Ah,” Sergey replied. “Flattery.” He shook his head. “It does not become you, my friend.”
“There is no flattery in speaking the truth,” Val said.
Sergey smiled and the two men fell silent again. A few minutes later Black Ivan pulled the car up to the side door of the warehouse. A car under a tarp stood near the concrete staircase. Sergey motioned to the car and looked at Val questioningly.
“A contingency,” Val said. “The doors are unlocked and the keys are in the ignition.”
Sergey did not reply. He waited for Ivan to exit the vehicle and open the door for him. Val reached out and touched Sergey on his elbow.
“Wait one moment,” he said.
Val exited the rear of the car and scanned the area for any threats. Seeing none, he nodded at Black Ivan, who stepped to the side to indicate to Sergey that the way was clear. Sergey stepped out of the car with a confident stride and adjusted his suit jacket. Val headed for the entrance. Sergey followed, trailed by Black Ivan.
Val stepped inside and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkened interior. A short distance away was a door leading to the open bay of the warehouse. Yuri stood by the door, holding an AK-47 in front of his chest. He gave Val a nod to indicate that all the guests were present and waiting.
Val pointed upward and raised his eyebrows. Yuri nodded again, holding up three fingers and making the sign of a gun with his forefinger and thumb.
Val held up his own hand and moved it like a chattering puppet.