The Truant Officer (31 page)

She smirked at Lilly, then formally introduced herself, “My name is Dava Lazinski and I am working on the Karl Zellen murder case for the US Attorney’s Office.”

Lilly guessed that Nick had found the leak. She was reminded of a lesson she’d learned from playing cards—the dealer always wins in the end.

Chapter 73

Darren and Becks were again in the Rabbi’s office.

Parmalov was seated at his desk, the Moziafs standing behind him like two stuffed bears.

Just looking at them filled Darren with rage. Everything happened so fast at the airport that Treadwell’s murder hadn’t fully sunk in until now. But all he could do was to quietly stew. Any attempt at retribution would be hopeless.

Parmalov ordered the Moziafs into action, “Frisk them.”

By frisk, he meant a full body search. Its uncomfortable nature was only eclipsed by the embarrassment. After they were re-dressed—Darren in his tux and Becks in her wedding-ish gown—Parmalov stood before them. “You didn’t listen to me and it got your friend killed.”

Darren just had to stand there and take it.

“One thing you’ll learn about me, is that when I say something I mean it. Next time you’ll remember that.”

The Moziafs looked like they were betting against there being a next time.

“But because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll give you one more chance,” Parmalov continued. “Why have you returned? I don’t remember inviting you to tonight’s party.”

Darren gulped. “I love my wife, no matter what she might have done. And I will do anything to bring her home safe. Eicher believes that you are secretly at war with Viktor Sarvydas, and trying to provide a safe journey for Nick so that he can testify against his son. I am here to help.”

Parmalov tapped Darren lightly on the cheek and then returned to his position behind the desk. “Because you’re being honest with me, I will return the favor. What Eicher says is true, but if you had listened to me the first time, we could have avoided that ugliness on the airplane.”

Darren felt his blood boil, but remained silent.

“You are too late, I’m sorry. I am no longer motivated to find her, or her lover. I just learned that Alexei has been released from prison. We are now re-mobilizing our troops.”

Darren knew that made them expendable. He only had one bargaining chip left. “I can offer information.”

Parmalov looked interested. “In Russian we call you a
musor,
a snitch. The lowest form of life. What do you want in return?”

“I want my wife to be safe.”

Parmalov nodded for Darren to continue.

“Eicher thinks you planted evidence at Karl Zellen’s home. He theorized that the plan was for Alexei to kill Zellen, in which he succeeded, but you planted evidence to make sure he was caught.”

Parmalov scoffed, “I did nothing of the sort. What I did was show Alexei the truth about what happened to his mother. Then I just sat back and enjoyed the show—Alexei’s hotheaded nature was always his downfall. Yes, I was thrilled to see him rotting in prison, while his father was exiled to Israel. But I planted nothing!”

He sat back in his chair, displaying a poker face—
was he their executioner or savior?

After a long silence, he offered, “I think I have figured out a way to save your wife.”

Darren was all ears.

“My people will get to her and Nick first. The feds can’t get out of their own way, and with Alexei freed, Viktor no longer has an urgency to find them. So when we do, I will allow your wife to live in exchange for you eliminating Nick.”

That wasn’t what Darren had in mind. Becks looked at him in horror. She might have talked tough about her high school boyfriend, but she really didn’t want Nick to be killed.

“Why would you want Nick dead? He was on your side, trying to take down Alexei,” Darren inquired.

“Nick is a Zellen. The Sarvydas and Zellen partnership killed my mentor, Vladimir Miklacz, and his daughter. Then they took what was rightfully mine. So now I’m going to eliminate both their families from the face of the earth.”

Darren felt like he couldn’t breathe, but he still found words, “So how do you want to do this?”

“A good old-fashioned duel in your wife’s honor. Lilly will back up your story that it was self-defense, I can guarantee you that. Nick’s sister will also be caught in the crossfire and tragically perish. It’s a win-win—the last remaining Zellens are scrubbed from the face of the earth, and you get your wife back.”

“You said nothing about the sister. If I take her out, then you must guarantee that nothing happens to Rebecca.”

He nodded. “Then I believe we have a deal.”

Becks didn’t exactly look thrilled that Darren had bargained for her life. In fact, she looked like she wanted to kill Darren for even thinking about committing murder, no matter how dire the circumstances. A trip to the dark side was not one you come back from.

Without warning, a knock rattled the door. “US Attorney—open up now!”

Parmalov shot an accusatory look at Darren and Becks.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Darren proclaimed.

“Your word is good with me, Mr. McLaughlin, but now you must prove your loyalty. You will stand in front of me for protection while Oleg blows the head off this fed.”

It wasn’t a request—Vana placed him in front of Parmalov, as he rose from his seat.

Oleg aimed at the door, looking excited.

Becks was forced to open the door. She had no choice. She turned the door handle.

Darren braced.

Chapter 74

In barged a woman holding up a gun and badge.

Shots were fired. But it wasn’t the woman falling to the ground. It was Oleg Moziaf. He crashed to the floor with a perfectly placed bullet in his heart.

“I’m Dava Lazinski from the US Attorney’s Office. And Stevanro Parmalov—you are under arrest,.”

“What charge?” he demanded, pushing Darren away.

“You have committed the worst possible crime—a crime against Viktor Sarvydas.”

Darren felt a punch to the gut. He thought the woman was on their side, but she was working for Sarvydas.

Vana Moziaf tried to get to her dead husband, but Dava fired two shots into her chest. It didn’t even seem to faze Vana, so Dava shot another one into her head and she crashed to the floor like a redwood.

Dava addressed Parmalov, “Now that I’ve got your attention—I have something you’ve been looking for.”

She momentarily left the room, before returning with two prisoners that she held at gunpoint. They were chained together by their ankles and wrists. Dava slammed the door shut.

Darren’s jaw dropped and the blood drained from his face.

He looked past Brick Zuckley—he meant nothing to him—and his gaze fell on his wife. He searched for something in her eyes—anything—that would explain what had happened. But while he saw regret, he couldn’t find sorrow.

“Oh, Darren,” she mumbled. It could have meant a million different things.

Parmalov interrupted the moment, “I must congratulate you on the Alexei Sarvydas case, Attorney Lazinski. I see you got the result you were looking for.”

Darren’s eyes never left Lilly. He noticed Zellen reaching out his hand to comfort her. She subtly looked away from Darren. It felt like a sledgehammer had slammed into his ribs.

His eyes moved to the woman from the US Attorney’s Office. And suddenly he recognized her. It was Kelli—Treadwell’s Kelli—and Darren grew aware that they’d been pawns from the beginning. It wasn’t a matter of wrong place/wrong time, or just dumb luck. But what was he being set up for?

“What do you want?” Parmalov barked at her. His voice was confident, despite his lack of leverage.

“I’m here for Darren McLaughlin—he’s coming with me.”

Darren knew he needed to stand firm. These people thrived on weakness. “What if I refuse?”

“Then I will kill your wife right in front of you.”

Darren’s knees buckled. His stand had lasted a matter of seconds.

“Fine—take the three of them and get out of here,” Parmalov cut his losses. “I don’t ever want to see your face in this office ever again.”

“You forget that you are a guest in Viktor Sarvydas’ home. The man you are attempting to overthrow. Before I go, I must relieve you of your duties.”

She raised her gun at Parmalov and was about to fire.

Darren looked at his wife, but for the first time his mind wasn’t on her. It was on another female.
What happened to Becks?

As if she had read his mind, she emerged from behind Parmalov’s desk. She was holding one of the guns that the Moziafs had dropped, and looked like a deranged bride in her white dress.

Becks’ reappearance momentarily diverted Dava’s attention. It was like she noticed her for the first time.

“Federal Marshal, freeze!” Becks shouted.

Darren thought she was trying to pull the same stunt she performed successfully at the airport. A dangerous game to play with these killers.

Dava turned her gun toward Becks. “Hello, Fitzpatrick. Nice of you to join us.”

“Drop the gun, Dava.”

“You first, Fitzpatrick.”

Darren was floored. He looked at Lilly once more, huddled close to Zellen. He no longer recognized her. Then at Becks, who wasn’t really Becks. And finally at Kelli, who he thought he’d met by chance. Nothing was real anymore.
Or was it ever?

The stare-down gained intensity, until Dava changed course. She made a swift ninety-degree turn and fired a shot into Parmalov’s head. He slumped to the ground.

Before anyone could respond, Dava placed her gun on Lilly’s temple.

Becks raised her gun.

“No Becks, don’t,” Darren shrieked.

“They’re going to kill you, Darren, if you go with them. She’s not worth it—she wouldn’t do the same for you. I don’t want anyone else to die here, but if I have to choose who lives, I’ll choose you every time.”

Darren couldn’t let her do it. He moved in front of Lilly to act as a shield.

“Move out of the way, Darren. It’s my job. I can’t let her walk out of here without handcuffs. I’m gonna do what I have to do.”

Darren stood firm, all six-foot-three of him. “Then you’re going to have to shoot me.”

She sighed. “Now you decide to stand up for yourself?”

Darren stood his ground.

Becks looked at him, and then at Dava. She shook her head in disgust and dropped her gun.

Dava took advantage. She raised the gun and pierced Becks’ shoulder with a shot, staining her white dress red.

Becks grabbed her shoulder and cursed loudly.

“You’re lucky, Fitzpatrick, that I don’t kill federal agents,” Dava hissed. “This mess is now yours to clean up. It will be my word against your disastrous record, and unfortunately for you, there will be no witnesses to back up your story—
ya nectevo ne znago.”

Dava jabbed Darren in the ribs with her gun and angled him toward the door. She marched him, along with his wife and her lover, out of Sarvy’s and into the unknown, leaving Becks at the altar.

Chapter 75

Eicher circled the witness like a shark. But this wasn’t a courtroom. He was back in his office at Foley Square. He had three more dead bodies—Parmalov and the Moziafs—and he was now grilling the lead suspect.

“Can you drop the tough guy act? It’s totally fugazy,” the witness snapped. “You don’t seem to understand—they’re in danger!”

He glared at Fitzpatrick. “What I do understand is that any danger is the result of you not listening. You were told to remove the McLaughlin woman from Nick’s life, and look how that ended up. I personally instructed you to grab some lunch and then to escort the husband back to Arizona. I didn’t think it was too complicated a request, yet you ended up in a shootout in Brighton Beach. That’s quite a detour.”

“I planned on going back, but things changed.”

“Things always change with you, Fitzpatrick, but never for the better.”

“Parmalov’s people had gotten past airport security and killed Ron Treadwell, who oh by the way, was Darren’s best friend. He was at risk, so I made a call. And I stand by it.”

“And your call was to go right to Parmalov without backup? Witnesses said you entered Sarvy’s with McLaughlin, acting erratically, then publicly taunted Parmalov until you were granted a meeting. You were the aggressor and out of control. We found the cab driver that picked you up at the airport. He said you told him, and I quote, ‘We are all about vengeance today.’”

“Oh c’mon, Eicher. I’d love to stake a claim to killing those murderers, but you
really
think I shot them?”

“The initial ballistics testing has come back, and surprise-surprise, the bullets found in the victims matched your gun.”

“And I shot myself? I told you why the guns match—because the person who did the shooting was issued the same type of weapon!”

Eicher looked at Fitzpatrick’s shoulder, heavily wrapped from the gunshot wound. She had removed her “wedding dress” and now wore a plain T-shirt and jeans, her pink-striped hair in a ponytail. He conceded that she was right on one thing—whoever shot her was the same person who shot Parmalov. But he refused to buy her story about Dava being involved, no matter how convincing she sounded.

“I worked with Dava Lazinski every day for a year. I know her better than I knew my ex-wife.”

“Hence the ex part. I’m telling you the truth, and every second you continue to bury your head in the sand it increases the odds that there will be a sale on Nick at the Moziaf Butcher Shop.”

“It would have to be a going-out-of-business sale, since they’re dead.”

“And I’ll bet you think I killed them, also.”

“No witness inside of Sarvy’s saw anyone matching the description of Dava. And someone certainly would’ve noticed if a federal agent marched in there with Nick and Lilly chained like a couple of POWs. The Russians can spot a federal agent three continents away.”

Fitzpatrick sighed. “Newsflash, Eicher, the Russians don’t talk.
Ya nectevo ne znago.
And when they do, they lie!”