He nodded.
“Untie him.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone,” said the adjuster, tied up again, this time to an office chair in the headquarters of Buccaneer Life & Casualty in downtown Tampa.
The Russians didn’t answer. They dumped out desk drawers, pulled paintings off walls, smashed vases and cut the stuffing out of couches and chairs.
“What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
No answer. They ripped acoustical tiles from the dropped ceiling and pulled up carpet. They checked the toilet tanks, unscrewed wall sockets. They gouged the drywall with a fire ax. They used an acetylene torch to cut into the plumbing and electrical conduits.
“No use,” said Igor, wiping insulation dust off his shoulders. “It’s not here.”
“What’s not here?” asked the adjuster.
“The file on the five million you paid out in September.”
“In the filing cabinet.”
Ivan looked sternly at the others. “You didn’t check the filing cabinet?”
They removed their hard hats and shrugged.
Ivan walked over to the cabinet and retrieved the thick file. It had everything — names, dates, addresses, bank accounts. Then it ended abruptly.
Ivan walked back to the adjuster. “It’s not complete. Just stops cold. There’s no current address for the guy.”
“I know. He fled. He was last seen at a local bank. Witnesses told police he made a withdrawal and stuffed the money in a silver briefcase.”
Ivan cursed under his breath and turned to the others. “I thought you interrogated him!”
“We did.”
Ivan looked at the adjuster again. “Where is he now?”
“Six feet under. They never found the briefcase.”
“When did this happen?”
“Couple months ago.”
“Where?”
“In a motel room in Cocoa Beach.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know which motel, would you?”
“The Orbit. Room two fourteen.”
“And you just happen to know all this because…?”
“It was in the papers.”
Ivan dropped his head in exasperation and closed his eyes. He slowly looked up again. “Why didn’t you tell us this down at the boat ramp? You could have died!”
“Your guys never asked,” said the adjuster. “They just kept saying, ‘Tell us what you know!’ What the hell does that mean?”
Ivan looked at the others. “Do we have to go over this every time?”
“I think it’s a trick,” said Igor, putting his goggles back on and firing up the acetylene torch again. “Pull down his pants. I’ll find out what he really knows.”
“Igor! Turn that thing off before you hurt yourself!”
Leonid stepped forward holding the live electrical conduit. “I think Igor’s right. It sounds like a trap. Let me attach these wires to his nuts, just to be safe.”
“Bend him over,” said Pavel, squeezing the trigger on the concussion drill.
“I can’t believe you guys!” said Ivan. “You’re the most perverted bastards I’ve ever met! Leonid, what’s with always wanting to put wires on a guy’s nuts?”
Leonid grinned and blushed. “I’ve never seen it done before.”
“Can I use the torch if I’m extra careful?” asked Igor.
“No! No! No!” yelled Ivan, pounding his fist on the file cabinet. “We kill him normal! Nothing fancy! Nothing sick! He keeps his pants up! That how all the trouble started last time.”
The men sagged with disappointment.
“Igor. Shoot him,” said Ivan.
“All right,” Igor said reluctantly. He turned the valve on his acetylene torch. Only he turned it the wrong way and a flame shot out and caught some drapes on fire.
“Sorry.”
They stood and watched the curtains burn.
“Is somebody going to put that shit out, or do I have to do everything?” said Ivan.
Igor grabbed the fire hose off the wall and hit the drapes with a stream of water. He also hit Leonid, holding the five-thousand-volt electrical conduit, who departed the planet in a bright flash and a shower of sparks.
19
“We’re in Cocoa Beach,” Ivan said in his cell phone. “We’re at the motel right now, Mr. Grande.” He slid bills through a slot in thick Plexiglas.
“Yes…. Yes, sir…. As smooth as can be expected, except we lost two men…. No, it couldn’t be helped….”
Jethro and Paul locked up their motel room and headed out with their silver briefcase. They walked past the office window of the Orbit Motel.
“I don’t think I can make it,” said Paul. “I’m gonna crack up for sure.”
“Relaxation,” Jethro said as they reached the edge of A1A. “That’s what golf is all about.”
The traffic let up and the pair started across the street for the driving range.
Ivan held the cell phone with one hand and stuck a paper cup under the water cooler with the other. “…Yes, sir…. Yes, sir, Mr. Grande….”
Pavel tugged on Ivan’s sleeve and pointed out the window.
“…Yes, sir…. Hold on a second, sir….”
Ivan covered the phone. “Not now!” He nodded with importance at the phone in his hand. “I’m talking to You Know Who!”
He uncovered the phone. “No, sir…. There’s no problem….”
Pavel kept looking out the window and kept tugging. Ivan swatted him away.
Serge and Lenny locked up their motel room. They ran past the office window.
Pavel tugged harder. Ivan covered the phone again. “What is it?”
Pavel pointed again. Jethro and Paul were halfway across the highway with the briefcase, followed by two other guys they didn’t recognize.
“That’s them!” yelled Ivan, dropping the phone.
Three Russians ran out of the motel office.
“We’re home free,” Jethro said as they reached the other side of A1A and the miniature golf complex. “Nothing can go wrong now.”
Paul heard footsteps. He looked back and saw Serge and Lenny.
“Run!”
They sprinted for the Japanese footbridge over the lagoon by the driving range.
Serge stopped and grabbed Lenny by the arm. He pointed at hole number five, the pink elephant on the surfboard. “Split up! You go that way! We’ll ambush on the other side!”
“Right!” Lenny ran for the elephant, and Serge took a hard left at the T Rex.
Jethro and Paul looked back as they reached the bridge. The two guys were gone, but now there were three others, way back, their colorful shirts visible through the trees. Jethro and Paul started up the bridge. Serge had made a complete circle and was closing fast on the far end of the span for the ambush, but Lenny was tired from all his pot smoking and had to sit for a moment on a plastic turtle.
Jethro and Paul hit the crest of the bridge. Jethro was still looking back, but Paul faced forward again.
“Aaauuuhhhhh!”
Serge was charging full speed. Paul panicked. He threw the briefcase as hard as he could up in the air. They all stopped and watched it sail end over end, tumbling weightless at the top of the arc, reflecting in the sunlight, then falling again, over the bridge’s railing and splashing next to the scuba diver collecting golf balls.
There was some yelling from behind a cluster of palm trees. Russian accents. “I think I saw them go over there!”
Everyone started running again. Paul and Jethro continued down the far side of the bridge, away from the tropical shirts. Serge kept charging in the opposite direction, up the bridge, letting them pass, concentrating on the briefcase. He never slowed as he reached the top of the bridge, swan-diving over the railing into the murky lagoon.
The scuba diver had mistaken the briefcase’s splash for a feeding alligator diving into the pond, and he surfaced and jerked his head around, standing at the ready with his bang stick. Just then, another big splash, some guy diving into the water next to him.