They had him.
Forsythe turned his back on Boris, walking over to where Alice now sat. “Sorry for the interruption Miss Weatherspoon, please do continue.”
“Yes, where was I?” Searching for where she had left off, she removed her glasses then put them back on again. “Okay, here we go. Our little communist friend here has turned capitalist. He invested said monies into a diversified stock portfolio split between both the US and German Stock Markets, creating a net profit of over $2 million by 2008.”
Boris scoffed at them laughing out loud, shaking his head, realizing he had the opportunity to get one jab in before they ruined him. “No, it was 2006 to be exact, Miss Weatherspoon. If you are going to get it right, please adjust your records to indicate 2006,” he replied sarcastically. Boris looked around the room at each of the assembled agents, nodding politely to each. “All right, you have me. I cancel my request to speak to the Russian Consulate. Needless to say, I do not wish to see my Russian friends. No need to make them aware of my presence. They thought my disappearance several years back meant poor Boris was dead. No need for them to think any differently.”
“Your right about that Boris, I never dialed the number anyway, that would be too tacky on my part.” He knew Boris was about to provide them something valuable, so he kept prodding. “Your government would confiscate your cash and kill you and every member of your family that still walks this earth. You know that, and I know that. Your people are a ruthless bunch of assholes.” He walked back to where Boris sat allowing one of his fingers to interrupt the trickle of blood that flowed down his face, holding it in front of Boris before choosing to wipe it on his already bloodied, white shirt.
Agent Knox took the signal from his boss, lighting a cigarette, placing it in Boris’s mouth, allowing him to take a drag.
Boris thanked him with a nod. “Nothing like a good cancer stick to calm the nerves.” A smile revealed a solid silver front tooth. “To answer one of your questions Michael, we have been invaded many times, so please do not cast judgment on something you have never experienced. Our country lay decimated the last time foreign troops invaded and tread upon our soil. The German Army destroyed everything for over a thousand miles in each direction. From this we became a, as you said so eloquently, ‘a ruthless bunch of assholes.’ Throw in Attila and Stalin, and yes, we have the scent of blood on our hands. Only we seek revenge for unjust actions. What’s your excuse?”
Forsythe had no desire to spar with the Russian; he was too cagey for that. He allowed Boris to become relaxed before striking out once more. Basic psychology; a trick his old instructors taught him well. Beat them down for a certain amount of time before allowing a small window of opportunity to open, hence the cigarette and the polite history lesson.
Casting off his friendly demeanor, Forsythe slapped him harshly across the face before delivering a blow to his stomach. Boris doubled over in agony as he struggled, gasping for air.
“Okay Boris, we’ve had our fun now let’s cut to the chase. What did you pass to our friend? What was in the envelope? Speak up Boris; I don’t want to have to start on your ribs.”
Forsythe realized he was getting to old for this sort of work as he rubbed his hand wondering if he had broken something of his own.
Boris straightened up in his chair, still gasping for air, but not wanting to provide his captors the satisfaction of knowing the extreme pain he felt. “If I were to speak,” he said, pausing to catch his breath.”I want a deal. Promise me that much. Will you allow me to keep what I have earned for any information you may receive?” He hoped for some type of bargain to be struck. He realized the particularly dire situation he was in.
Forsythe smiled. “Are you kidding me? What the hell do you think this is? We could kill you, dump your body in the ocean and nobody would know or even give a damn.”
Agent Knox walked up the steps to make sure the door was closed and locked, not wanting the Ocean City Police to have a sideshow.
Boris looked straight ahead, mentally reviewing his options, finding none to his liking. His only chance would be to feed the FBI small bits of information and feign the rest. Maybe, just maybe, they would let him go with some type of deal.
Boris wanted to be out of the country before Peter made it to Washington. If not, he was a dead man.
Chapter Ten
Jim walked about the ferry’s main car deck, looking for any signs of the suspect’s car. A Police Officer for 11 years, he knew people panicked in the heat of the moment, so he made an effort to check all black vehicles. In Jim’s line of business, he had to be aware of all makes and models. There was no room for mistakes on a vehicle description in his book.
While strolling the main deck viewing the captive assembly of vehicles before him, Jim came up with what he thought would be an excellent idea for law enforcement. Run a check of all license plates on the cars as they boarded the ferry. By the time the ferry docked almost two hours later, they could have identified any potential scofflaws or criminals. The ACLU would have a field day on that one, Jim thought.
Carefully navigating down the narrow lanes between the vehicles, he noticed cell phones, suitcases, even wallets lying out on the front seats. It constantly amazed Jim how many people left their vehicles unlocked with valuables in clear sight for all to see. What do they think? Because they were on a ferry, all crime takes a holiday? People will never learn.
Passing the midway point of the car deck, a hint of marijuana hung in the air as he passed a rusting, lime green, 83 Toyota hatch back. Its middle-aged occupants had the windows rolled up and were enjoying the partial ocean view the ferry provided as they happily puffed away, oblivious to anyone around them. Jim walked right past the couple. He didn’t have the time to squash their fun, for two cars in front of the 83 Toyota he saw what appeared to be his prey.
His law enforcement reflexes took over as he approached what looked to be a black, 2005 Impala. Patting his waistband for his 38, he proceeded to the rear bumper of the vehicle. From where he stood he could view the complete interior of the vehicle. Satisfied no one was still in the vehicle, he walked to the driver’s side of the car. Let me just see if the car door is open, looking from side-to-side for any potential witnesses, only viewing the middle aged couple smoking pot 2 cars away, still oblivious to the world around them. Jim cautiously tugged at the handle preparing to walk away if it had an alarm system installed. Not completely surprised, he found the door unlocked.
He quickly slipped into the vehicle.
Jim sat in the driver’s seat for a few moments wondering what in the hell he was doing? Breaking and entering would get him removed from the force if caught. You only live once, he said aloud, leaning over and opening the glove compartment. He removed its contents and spread them on the passenger seat in plain view. He picked through the assorted fast food wrappers, candies, maps and finally, a rental car agreement. Jim chose to start with the rental agreement. He found it registered to a Peter Zarinsko, writing down the name on a piece of paper. The maps were for the Washington DC and Philadelphia areas. He didn’t find anything else that might provide any clues before placing everything back in its place in the glove compartment and exiting the car.
Peter fed the seagulls some of his left over french fries. The seagulls were fighting an aerial duel above him, each jostling for position before swooping in three at a time to feed upon the greasy food, oblivious to their cholesterol levels like their human counterparts. After emptying the remaining contents into the sea below him, Peter could see the outline of Lewes, Delaware before him.