The Truant Officer (14 page)

After a tense moment, he dropped the clippers and tears began to roll down his face. Lilly ran to him and hugged him tightly. She could have stayed there in that embrace forever. But time was getting short.

She took his hand and led him to the SUV. They headed for the airport.

Chapter 29

Zubov eased his rental car to a stop beside the curb in a quaint neighborhood in Henderson, Nevada. Mothers pushed strollers, and joggers—one American custom he would never understand—ran by in the heat. It seemed like your typical boring suburban neighborhood. But he had arrived to add a little excitement, at least for this day.

He checked himself in the car’s mirror and came away impressed. Not bad for a man in his fifties who had been in the killing business for over forty years. It was a business that aged many, and those were the lucky ones. He ran his stubby fingers through his short-cropped hair and fluffed his salt and pepper mustache. Satisfied, he stepped out of the rental car and adjusted his Armani suit. He was on a business call, and believed one should always be well presented when conducting business.

His enemies liked to say he had contempt for all things living. But that wasn’t completely true. He admittedly did remove emotion from the equation—the way business should be conducted—but he took great pride in that he’d never harmed an innocent person. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like his image, or use it to his advantage to inject fear into his opponent.

It was a myth that began in Chernivtsi, a small city in western Ukraine. By age nine, he was known throughout the country as one of its best pickpockets—a tremendous honor in Ukrainian society. He made his first kill at age eleven, and didn’t stop until he was incarcerated in the most inhumane of all the Siberian gulags.

It was there he met Viktor Sarvydas. They formed a bond of vors, and Zubov later followed him to Brighton Beach in the early eighties.

Zubov and Sarvydas worked for “Psyk” Miklacz, the don of Brighton Beach, a man Zubov thought had no honor because he would harm and torture the innocent. Their big break came when Sarvydas married Miklacz’s daughter, Trina, making him royalty. And soon after, the opportunity to seize control presented itself.

From that time on, Zubov became Sarvydas’ top soldier as they set out on a quest for world domination, often fighting off their arch-rivals, Stevanro Parmalov and the Moziafs. That was, until those bastards finally grasped that joining Team Sarvydas would increase their life expectancy. A merger that Zubov was against from the outset.

Zubov casually strolled toward the house, smiling at a young girl riding her bike. He chuckled at how soft American kids were raised to be—
helmets to ride a bike!?
The desert sun scorched his face. He had detested the desert ever since spending time in a stifling Israeli prison, but he didn’t plan to be here long.

He found the door unlocked and walked in. It looked like he wasn’t the first guest to arrive at the party. He wandered through the house, impressed by the plasma TVs, while the smell of cigarettes gave him a craving. He quit six months ago and it was the hardest thing he ever had done in his life.

He found Dantelli by the pool, tied to a diving board. He couldn’t help but laugh at the pathetic sight before him. He walked up to him and removed the panties from Dantelli’s mouth. He assumed they belonged to Lilly McLaughlin. He’d developed a fondness for her from afar, and not just for her beauty—he respected her fearlessness. He looked forward to meeting her.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dantelli greeted him rudely.

“Is that any way to talk to an old friend,” Zubov said, still admiring the underwear. “I was trailing Nick and his lady friend. According to my information, they were here.”

“Your information always seems to be a day late and a dollar short. Now untie me so I can go kill that little punk.”

Zubov reached down and scooped up a pair of hedge-clippers. He performed a couple of quick chops like a batter in baseball taking warm-up swings, and then snipped away the ropes.

As Dantelli shook the circulation back into his limbs, Zubov laughed again. A deep hearty one—his trademark. “You better watch yourself. It looks like that little punk almost killed
you
. Maybe next time he’ll do better.”

He took note of the anger simmering within Dantelli and laughed. The guineas were always so emotional. No matter what that line in the movie said, it was always personal with them. It was their weakness, and the reason that the Russians had passed them by.

“That kid disrespected me in my home and now I’m going to kill him.”

Zubov began clapping. “Bravo, bravo.”

Dantelli looked frustrated. “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

“I think you are doing a great acting job, because the last thing you really want to do is kill Nick.”

Dantelli appeared to gather himself. “You’re right. Mr. Sarvydas has said he wants to deal with Nick personally. His word is the only word.”

Zubov laughed again. “More acting—I love it! It’s like I’m talking to fucken DeNiro! I think the reason you don’t want to kill Nick is that his testimony can put Alexei away for a long time, and with Viktor in exile, your new boss, Parmalov, can take over the Organizatsiya.”

A moment of terror came over Dantelli’s face. This was Zubov’s favorite part.

Dantelli didn’t crumble, as expected. “I work for Viktor Sarvydas and only him. I have always been loyal to him.”

Zubov shook his head. The guineas were always talking about loyalty. When will they learn—the only loyalty is to one’s self. Zubov shrugged. “I hear things—it’s my job to check them out.”

“If you checked things out, then you’d know that I followed Mr. Sarvydas’ orders. I set up the Zellen meeting, tied him to a chair in the kitchen, and then left the place wide-open for whoever was going to do the job. I had no idea Alexei was to be the one. I returned as the first officer on the scene, just as I was ordered. I did my job. Everything went as planned.”

Zubov knew exactly why Alexei was the one. It all went back to that night Zubov ambushed Miklacz and Alexei’s mother. And that was just the beginning—the secrets went much deeper. Family was always the ugliest of businesses.

“I don’t remember the part of the plan where Nick shows up.”

“We figured he must have arrived in between our leaving and Alexei arriving, because he didn’t know anything about Bachynsky and me. And he claimed to come in through the back entrance, so he didn’t see Karl in the kitchen until he heard Alexei doing the job. So someone must be talking to him.”

“Or Nick is a smart kid, and he figured things out.”

“Whatever happened, if he isn’t stopped, he’s going to keep messing things up.”

“Don’t worry—Nick will be taken care of,” Zubov said with a crooked smile. “I’m more concerned that you are scheduled to testify against Alexei next week. With what you know, that could be very damaging testimony.”

“I am just following my orders.”

“Yet Parmalov is the only one who benefits from this trial continuing.”

“I told you—I only follow Mr. Sarvydas’ orders! I don’t know why he wants me to testify against his son, but he ordered me to work with the prosecution, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Well, I’m here to inform you that there’s been a change in plans. Alexei has learned his lesson, and suffered enough. A trial is good for nobody, except Parmalov. Secrets could come out that should stay hidden.”

“So what are you saying?”

“To make long story short, you won’t be testifying, and I can assure you Nick Zellen won’t be either. There will be no trial.”

Dantelli remained defiant. “Why should I listen to some washed-up hitman?”

Zubov smiled. “You see, Viktor Sarvydas is not calling the shots right now. I’m here representing the don’s son. And his son doesn’t want a trial. We both agree that the secrets of that day need to stay buried.”

“I have always kept Mr. Sarvydas’ secrets and I can be trusted with his son’s,” Dantelli saw which way the winds were blowing on this one. He hadn’t lasted this long by not being flexible.

So much for the loyalty thing. Zubov was a little disappointed—people always seemed to disappoint him in the end. “His son is confident you take your secrets to grave.”

Dantelli’s face filled with fear and he began to tremble. He then dove head first into the pool. Moments later, after Zubov finished his work with the hedge-clippers, the rest of his body followed.

Chapter 30

Eicher hit the pause button and stared at the blonde reporter in disbelief. He was watching a video of a report on a local Phoenix TV station, which exposed the teacher/student sex scandal at South Chandler High. After earlier revealing Nick’s identity, she was now pinpointing his location.

As much as he detested this Stafford woman, he understood she was doing her job...maybe a little too well. Unlike Fitzpatrick, who claimed that it would be safer to “integrate” Nick into society, in this case a school setting, rather than lock him away from the world. Eicher couldn’t believe he signed off on that, and he should have been more forceful in demanding that they got Nick out of there at the first hint of trouble.

“All taken care of,” he mocked Fitzpatrick’s false confidence. He then started in on Nick and the reckless act that had put everything at risk.

“I think we need to cut the kid a break,” Dava said calmly.

“We can
cut
him all the breaks we want, but Zubov is going to
cut
his head off. How could he be so damn stupid?”

“Put yourself in his shoes for a minute. The kid is in a foreign place, not knowing who to trust, and has all this pressure building on him with the trial coming up. His parents and girlfriend were murdered. He was looking for something to cling to, and Lilly McLaughlin was there for him.”

“A tantalizingly attractive female just happened to be there to seduce him,” he wondered aloud, still staring at the frozen screen. His phone rang, waking him from the nightmare. It was LaPoint.

Eicher didn’t even give him a chance to speak. “Have you seen this damn report?”

“It’s like watching Nick’s funeral,” LaPoint said soberly.

“Can’t we get this bimbo off the air?”

“The cat’s out of the bag now, so what’s the point? And besides…”

“Besides what?”

LaPoint sighed. “She’s the most accurate source we have on Nick’s whereabouts. Nobody had them in Vegas—we were thinking Mexico or somewhere out in the middle of the desert. But somehow this Jessi Stafford found them.”

“You’ve confirmed her report?”

“Yes, they were spotted on the casino cameras, and she’s paying with the husband’s credit card. One way or another, they’ll be captured within an hour. It just depends on who gets there first.”

“Maybe we can hire Stafford to replace Fitzpatrick’s sorry ass.”

“There will be plenty of blame to go around on this one. But a lot less shit will hit the fan if we can get Nick back in one piece.”

Eicher agreed. “Where do we go from here?”

“Did you check out the videos I emailed you?”

“Not yet. If you haven’t noticed, it’s been kind of a busy morning.”

“Check them out—I’ll mobilize here—and let’s reconvene in an hour.”

Eicher hung up and scrambled to his computer. Dava followed close behind and asked, “What is it?”

Eicher played the videos, recognizing them as a feed from a casino. Lilly and Nick were at the blackjack table. The next video featured them strolling hand-in-hand past rows of slot machines like a honeymooning couple. Lilly was in the same miniscule dress she wore for her abduction, while Nick was dressed in a suit, looking much older than normal. It confirmed that they were there, but Eicher wasn’t sure why LaPoint was so eager for him to look at the video.

Then he saw it.

His heart sank. Dava spoke for him, “Oh God—it’s Zubov.”

Eicher spilled his cold coffee. The brown puddle expanded over his desk without an attempt to stop it. He just stared ahead, as it began dripping off the desk onto his lap like a waterfall.

As Eicher slumped in his chair, the phone rang again. But this time it was Dava’s.

“Hello,” she answered pleasantly, but her face quickly dropped. She muttered something in Lithuanian, but the term “uh-oh” crossed all language barriers.

She hung up and turned to Eicher. “That was Fitzpatrick.”

“Don’t tell me—Fitzpatrick is arranging a FBI escort for Sarvydas from Israel to Vegas?”

“No—Dantelli’s dead.”

That was a big uh-oh.

Sarvydas seemed pretty determined that there would be no trial. Eicher begged Dantelli numerous times to go into protective custody, but he wouldn’t listen—still fighting his childish FBI/NYPD turf wars.

Dava pushed the dazed Eicher away from his computer, and signed in to her email. “They sent me the video from Dantelli’s security system,” she explained.

The first video stunned them. It was Nick and Lilly being invited in by Dantelli. The next video was of them leaving about twenty minutes later. The cameras covered the exterior, but they had no shots of what happened during those twenty minutes inside the house.

Dava appeared befuddled. “Why would Nick go there?”

Eicher shrugged. “Dantelli was the lead investigator in his father’s case. Maybe he was looking for some protection.”

“Do you think they killed him? That makes no sense.”

“They didn’t,” Eicher proclaimed, his concentration on the next video. This one showing Zubov entering the house through an unlocked door. “But I know who did.”

“Zubov makes much more sense,” Dava remarked. “Fitzpatrick said that Dantelli was decapitated.”

Predictable—the removal of body parts was Zubov’s M.O. What more interested Eicher was that everywhere Nick went, Zubov seemed to follow. Eicher didn’t believe this was a coincidence any more than he thought Lilly McLaughlin coming into Nick’s life was.

Chapter 31