The Truant Officer (30 page)

He wasn’t sure of his next move, but Becks was decisive. She declared airport security to be the dumbest organism on the planet, and began marching their way out of the airport, pretending her South Chandler High ID was the badge of a federal air marshal. They were let through, without even a request to look at the credentials.

They ran out of the airport and hopped into a cab at almost the same spot where the earlier shootout took place. When the cabbie asked them where to, Darren replied, “Brighton Beach.” He knew that’s where this whole thing was headed. Where everything would be decided, one way or another. He knew he had to plant his feet and fight back. There was no other choice.

“Moscow on the Hudson, here we come,” the driver replied. “Any place in particular?”

“Sarvy’s,” Becks said, catching on.

“That’s the place to be tonight. You big Natalie Gold fans?” the driver asked.

“I love her song ‘Vengeance’,” Becks replied. “We’re all about vengeance today. It’s kind of our theme.”

They couldn’t get within five blocks of Sarvy’s—the area had been secured for the Natalie Gold’s arrival. The driver dropped them under an elevated subway track, near an enormous housing project. He provided them with directions, and they headed toward Sarvy’s on foot. A light rain began to fall.

Brighton Beach, or Little Odessa as the driver called it, was a place of great highs and lows. The oceanfront of the Atlantic was lined with gaudy art deco apartments. Flashy Mercedes sped the streets, and Armani-clad men shopped the boardwalk with gold-draped women. But a block later, it turned into infested crack houses and decaying clapboard homes.

There was one consistent theme—
Russian, Russian, Russian
. Darren was convinced that Moscow was less Russian than Brighton Beach. The storefronts were labeled in Russian, and it was the preferred language of the street. Darren thought there were a lot of guns in Arizona, but in Brighton they seemed as common as wearing a watch.

They passed the pushcart vendor who was responsible for their “arrest.” He winked at them. Darren felt another attack of paranoia coming on—nobody was who they seemed.

They arrived at Sarvy’s, which already had a parade of limos out front, despite the party being hours away. The men were dressed in tuxedos, accompanied by plastic blondes in low-cut evening gowns. And of course, gold was everywhere. This was not the trendy/celebrity crowd that would show up later, this was standard Brighton Beach.

Darren realized that they weren’t getting in to the club with their current outfits. The pilot uniform wasn’t going to cut it. So when in Russia, do as the Russians do. They found a nearby high-end clothing store where Darren purchased a tuxedo, while Becks was fitted for a silk chiffon dress that cascaded to the floor. When Darren met her yesterday she was a high school kid trudging around in flip-flops, and a day later it looked like it was her wedding day. They grow up so fast.

They came across a street vendor selling gold, and they strung all they could afford around themselves. The vendor proudly told them the jewelry was stolen. Thievery seemed to be a source of pride in these parts.

Looking the part, they were able to gain entrance into the club. The same bouncers frisked them as earlier, yet they went unrecognized in their new duds. They passed the weapons inspection, but Darren got the idea that maybe they should have thought twice about not being armed.

They walked inside to find the reconstruction project complete. The cavernous room had been transformed into a laser-light-show extravaganza with elaborate stage and video screen. There was no shortage of food, drink, or drug.

Becks went right to a beefy guard and demanded to see Parmalov. He claimed not to know of any such person, and walked away.

She would not be so easily deterred. She shot up onto the stage where Natalie Gold would perform later, and grabbed the microphone. “The Russian mob is red, the police are blue, and Parmalov I’ve come for you!” she shouted into the PA system, before the guards could even figure out their response.

Becks wasn’t done. She showed off impressive karaoke abilities, belting out The Beatles classic “Back in the USSR” without any accompanying music. It seemed an appropriate choice.

Darren thought she was either the gutsiest or craziest person he’d ever met. Maybe both. He was initially frozen by fear, but a vision of Treadwell popped into his head. He remembered his words about being a caveman, which inspired him to make a mad dash for the stage in an attempt to save her. But a group of Parmalov’s men met him there, and put an end to his heroism.

“You’re going to get your wish. Mr. Parmalov will see you now,” one guard said.

“I thought you didn’t know who he was,” Becks shot back.

The guard smiled fiendishly. “When he gets done with you, you’re going to wish I was right.”

Chapter 71

Lilly held Nick’s hand as they deplaned in New York. It was a cross-country chase that had taken them from Arizona to Las Vegas to Denver, with a stopover in Dallas/Oklahoma, and would end with a headfirst dive into the Sarvydas’ shark tank in Brighton Beach.

But Lilly knew that she couldn’t have talked Nick out of it even if she’d wanted to. He was desperate to get home to try to protect Sasha.

Lilly stepped into the gate area, still clutching onto Nick. The first thing she noticed was the chaos—something was going on in the airport. A tension hung in the air, and a large police presence was detectable.

It was too late to turn around, so they confidently stepped forward. Lilly straightened her posture, and walked confidently into the unknown.

The chaotic scene seemed to slightly unnerve Nick, but he calmly asked a security guard, “What’s all the commotion?”

The large man replied in a robust whisper. “Found a pilot dead on one of the planes.”

“Dead?” Lilly inquired further.

The guard shrugged. “There are rumors that he was murdered, but you didn’t hear that from me. My guess is he killed himself. These pilots sometimes live some lonely lives. If he was suicidal, I’m just glad he wasn’t flying my plane.”

As they spoke with the guard, something caught her eye. A tall blonde woman strolling carelessly through the terminal.

She whispered, “Isn’t that the reporter who put our picture on the TV, Jessi something-or-other?”

Nick said nothing, but his startled look confirmed her thoughts. He tightened the grip on her hand and pulled her out of the gate area, almost ripping Lilly’s shoulder from its socket in the process.

Lilly didn’t think it was by chance that a reporter who’d been tracking them across the country ended up in the same airport terminal. But the woman took a turn in the opposite direction without even a glance their way. Lilly watched as she disappeared into the crowd.

There was no time for relief. Around the next corner, both she and Nick recognized the man in the wheelchair. He wore a wig like he was some mustached cross-dresser. When you stand close enough to the Grim Reaper, you never forget his face. Lilly also knew the wheelchair wasn’t a total disguise. She had shot this man’s knees out.

“Zubov,” she whispered.

But he had other issues to deal with—the authorities began heading toward him, his disguise transparent. Despite the overwhelming numbers against him, Lilly still thought Zubov was the safe bet to prevail.

They weren’t going to hang around to find out. They exited the airport, passing mobs of screaming teenagers who had come to greet the arrival of their hero, Natalie Gold.

Nick found a limo service driver whose client failed to show, and he agreed to take them to the Zellen estate in Sands Point, Long Island.

Once settled in the vehicle, the first thing Lilly noticed was that her cell phone was missing. She went over in her mind where she could have left it—the most likely scenario was that it had fallen out of her pocket in her haste. And one particular instance came to mind. “I think I dropped my cell phone in the bathroom when we were…”

Nick grinned. “And they say phone sex isn’t as good as the real thing.”

Lilly bristled. “That’s not funny.”

“What’s the big deal? It’s just one of the throwaways you got in Vegas.”

Lilly bit her lip, mulling over the consequences of losing her phone.

As they hit the Long Island Expressway, passing over the Throgs Neck Bridge, they morphed into the doldrums. After all the excitement of the last forty hours, sitting in New York traffic just wasn’t feeding the monster.

Through the intercom, Lilly asked the driver to turn on the radio. He put on the all-news station
1010 WINS
just in time for a breaking news story that a pilot named Ron Treadwell had been found dead at JFK Airport. No details had been released at this point, but there was speculation that it was linked to the airport shooting earlier in the day.

Lilly felt sick. She thought of Darren’s kooky but loyal friend—the one responsible for bringing them together. She prayed silently for Darren’s safety. She knew she could do nothing to stop the pain she had already caused him, but she couldn’t live with herself if he suffered a similar fate as Ron.

“Are you okay?” Nick asked with a concerned look, drawing her close.

She told him that she was.
What was another lie at this point?

The other breaking news from JFK was that pop star Natalie Gold had arrived on American soil. Her high-profile arrival was complicating an already turbulent scene at the airport.

Nick’s thoughts seemed to go to a faraway place. But the next news item snapped him back to reality.

Alexei Sarvydas had been released from prison.

Chapter 72

Nick put his phone away, looking disgusted. “She’s still not answering!”

Lilly attempted to put her arm around him, but he rebuffed her.

“Sasha has been able to survive this year without protection, and she even worked out that secret meeting with you in Arizona. She’s tough, gutsy, and I’m sure, safe.”

“She needs protection from herself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She’s going to the Natalie Gold premiere party tonight at Sarvy’s. When I called her from the road last night, she told me what she planned to do. She is so damn stubborn—once she sets her mind on something, it’s impossible to talk her out of it.”

Lilly’s look turned inquisitive. “Why would she do that? She knows what Sarvydas did to your parents, and that his people will be there, right?”

“I’m afraid she’s going to go after Sarvydas’ people.”

“But wouldn’t that be a suicidal?”

His face turned determined. “That’s why I need to get to her ASAP, to put a stop to it. There will only be one Zellen representing my family at that party, and it will be me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m tired of running and hiding. I need to face them head on. If they want to kill me, then so be it, but I will not run. I’m not a coward.”

Lilly ran her hand over his arm. “Running hasn’t been all bad, has it?”

He kissed her deeply, then smiled. “If I die, I will die a happy man.”

She hugged him as tight to her body as she could.

They sat in silence for moments, before Nick said, “You didn’t try to talk me out of it.”

“I know you need to do this.”

“Really?” he replied with a half smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d try to talk me out of it.”

She returned the smile. “I think you just want to see that Natalie Gold chick. So being the jealous girlfriend that I am, I’m going with you.”

He tried to dissuade her, but Lilly would have none of it, “Just like you need to do this, so do I. We are in this together.”

Nick nodded, his face grim.

“What’s wrong?” Lilly asked, feeling it went beyond his inability to contact Sasha.

“It’s Audrey.”

Just the name filled Lilly with mixed emotions. “What about her?”

“I think she’s alive.”

“Because they are digging up her grave? Remember what her father said—even if that isn’t her in the cemetery, they still haven’t seen or heard from her in a year. Something happened to her.”

“It wasn’t that.”

“Then what?” Lilly asked intently.

“Just a feeling I got when I was in her room.”

Lilly could tell he was holding something back, but she didn’t push the issue.

They drove through heavy gates and up the long driveway of the Zellen estate. Nick ordered the driver to drop them off at a cobblestone courtyard, in front of the largest house Lilly had ever seen. With its thickly mortared brick walls and steeply pitched roofs, it had a medieval feel to it. To add to the wow factor, it was built right on the cliffs of Long Island Sound.

“I should have held out for a better deal,” the driver said with a smile, observing the compound. Nick wasn’t listening—he was already running toward the mansion. Lilly paid the driver with the rest of their traveling money and ran after him.

Nick dashed inside, yelling “Sasha!” at the top of his lungs.

Lilly followed him into the house. The interior was equally spectacular—she passed through an indoor garden, before entering an opulent hall that had a Gatsbyian feel to it. It was filled with expensive woodcarvings and lined with paintings from the 16th and 17th centuries. Lilly remembered that Karl Zellen was an art connoisseur.

But the room also was filled with the trappings of a teenager living there alone. Sasha’s ice skates were scattered on the floor, along with numerous fast food wrappers and DVD cases.

Nick ran up a spiral staircase. “Sasha!” he yelled again.

He burst into a room, practically breaking down the door. Lilly followed close behind.

The scene before them was not pretty. Sasha was lying naked on the bed, her wrists tied with rope and her mouth gagged with a scarf.

Nick ran to her and removed the gag. He covered her body with a comforter. “Who did this to you?” he demanded.

Before Sasha could answer, a voice rang out, “Hello, Nick. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

A woman appeared from the shadows, holding a gun.