Page 23

Chapter 22

Balls to the wall and tits having fits

Big Al

A week later

F or nearly a month, entering the lair was eerily reminiscent of marching into enemy territory, thanks to the tension with Tomer. And Madeline was painfully right about how my bare minimum effort was hurting Lettie.

I was so close to losing them both.

But now, the lair is simply another room in my home.

A wry grin plucks at the corner of my mouth. Redleg being my home isn’t only metaphorical these days, considering many of us are bunking here for safety. Since we killed Nikolai’s son, there’s no doubt he’s about to go nuclear.

I scan the room silently before making my presence known.

Tomer’s workstation is empty, and his primary screen is still dark. No surprise, considering I passed him in his new office on the way down here. It felt good to be able to give him that.

Sitting side by side with their backs to me, Mia and Klein focus on their screens, clearly engrossed in their tasks. Big band music fills the air. He nudges the side of her leg with his knee when the song changes to something from a different genre. Neither of them stops working, although she starts humming along.

Fucking hell . It’s Tom Jones. Klein’s tainted Mia’s taste in music.

My eyes track toward the whiteboard covering most of one wall. A hit of vindication floods me when I see there’s one less column on it. For all intents and purposes, Lenkov’s human trafficking ring is dismantled.

Now, our focus shifts to other parts of the mafia. We’ll keep dismantling it until Nikolai is in jail or in the ground with his son. Don’t care which.

I clear my throat. “Good morning, children.”

“Hey, Boss,” Mia chirps, her voice more buoyant than usual.

She’s probably hacking something interesting.

For a change, Klein’s more reserved. “Morning.” He flicks his gaze to the door. “Tomer on his way?”

As if on cue, he breezes in.

Mia beams at him. “Right on time, T.”

He powers on his machine wordlessly, in accordance with his customary refusal to speak unless he’s asked direct questions or has something of value to offer.

After setting my tablet on the table, I rub my palms together and saunter to the whiteboard. “Let’s start with a sit rep and lay out our plan for the week.”

I check the time on my cell, noting Leo’s late. No messages from him either. “Where the fuck is Lionheart?”

It’s not like he has a long drive. For fuck’s sake. Like most of the others, he and Sue are sleeping downstairs in the temp bunk rooms.

Mirroring my thoughts, Tomer jokes, “It’s a helluva commute.”

The jab draws a snort-laugh from Mia.

“Let’s get started. He’ll catch up,” I announce, my patience tank running on empty.

The three of them join me at the table in the corner, laptops open.

Before jumping in, I say, “If you have something urgent or time-sensitive, speak now.”

With no responses, I provide my update first. “Checked in with the WITSEC coordinator this morning; there’s still no sign of Savin and Tasha. Given the prosecutors still need them to testify against some of the suspects in custody, they’ve launched an investigation into their disappearance, broadcasted BOLOs for law enforcement, and all that shit.”

“Do they need help searching?” Mia asks, sounding a tad overeager. More than likely because a partnership with the US Marshals at WITSEC would give her potential access to a system she’s always wanted her hands in. Something new to hack.

I purse my lips and shrug noncommittally. “Considering their lack of results, I’d wager they do need assistance. However, needing and accepting it are very different things.”

She huffs. “Any reason you don’t want me looking?”

I glare at her. “Did you invent a device that freezes time? You have plenty to do from the rest of the fucking list on the wall. If you have free time, I’ll be happy to rectify that. Let the feds handle the runaway witnesses for now.”

She hisses playfully. “Fine. But I reserve the right to pout about it.”

“I expected nothing less,” I gripe under my breath. “In other news, Mayor Kirkland has officially denied my request for a meeting, and Undersheriff Dempsey has suddenly stopped taking my calls or returning my emails.”

“That’s curious.” Mia tilts her head to the side, eying me studiously. “Did the mayor know what the meeting was about before declining?”

I nod. “Topic was a partnership to combat organized crime in the area.”

Mia’s head kicks back. “An elected official rejecting an offer like that is certainly a choice. Especially in this political climate.”

Tomer presses, “So he flat-out declined the meeting request rather than postponing or pawning you off on another city representative?”

“Yeah. Lettie said the mayor’s chief of staff was quite clear that the city would not be entertaining Redleg’s thoughts on the matter.” I flick my gaze to the ceiling, recalling her colorful phrasing. “She then gave me her thoughts on the matter. Something about the mayor being so shady grass won’t grow near him.”

Tomer snickers louder than the rest of us.

Klein glances at him briefly before refacing me. “No offense to Lettie, but did you try calling for yourself, Boss?”

“Of course. When my emails and calls weren’t returned, I sent Lettie after them. Figured she could sweet talk someone at city hall for me. She got farther up the chain than I did. Ultimately, she was stonewalled too.”

Klein releases a frustrated groan. “So much for having the city’s interests in mind.”

Mia nods and asks, “I know they aren’t foolproof, but did you put read receipts on your emails?”

“Yeah. The mayor hasn’t opened them. Same with the undersheriff.”

“Hmm.” Mia’s fingers fall to her keyboard, and rapid clicking follows.

Let the record show I’m choosing to ignore what she’s likely doing regarding their email accounts. Mostly because I’m curious as fuck if they’re working with Lenkov or not. And Mia’s good enough to get in and out without being detected.

Tomer taps his fingertips on the table in a rhythmic pattern and studies me closely. “Big Al, is there a reason why you mentioned the mayor and undersheriff in the same breath?”

“That’s very insightful of you. As a matter of fact, there is. I suspect something’s going on with them. A connection of sorts. Not sure whether they’re dirty or being threatened by Lenkov. Perhaps neither of those things. Or both.”

“Could be the undersheriff is the one doing the influencing on behalf of Lenkov,” Tomer suggests. “We already know he’s on the list of seventy-two from the jump drive we got from Katia.”

Klein taps his pen softly against the edge of his laptop. “Hold on. Boss, what makes you think there’s a connection between them?”

“It’s mostly circumstantial. For starters, the undersheriff is one of the seventy-two, so I’m suspicious of everything where he’s concerned. As for the mayor, something doesn’t sit right with the dismissal. He’s met with me before for far less critical issues. Plus, the timing is worrisome.”

Mia stops typing and fixes her intelligent gaze on me. “How so?”

“After almost two weeks of trying to get me in to see the mayor, Lettie got the final dismissal from his office about a half hour after Dempsey physically sent me to voicemail rather than letting it ring like a missed call. He’s never done that before. Being blocked by them at virtually the same time is sketchy.”

“Could be a coincidence,” Klein suggests, repeatedly clicking that damn pen.

I shake my head. “No such thing.”

“How many days was this after we got that list from Katia?” Tomer asks.

“The next day. I should have told you sooner, but we’ve all been running balls to the wall with the fallout from the night of the op.”

“Speak for yourself,” Mia snickers. “I’ve been running breasts to the west.”

Tomer scrunches up his nose, shaking his head judgmentally at her.

“Sorry. Tits to the pits? Is that better? Nah... that’s weird. Let’s see. Grits. Glitz. Berlitz. Oven mitts.” She clicks her tongue. “Dammit. Those aren’t good either.”

“Doing splits? Cockpits?” Klein suggests.

I drag my palm aggressively across my forehead. “As I was saying, it was?—”

“Oh! Got it.” Mia bounces in her seat. “Tits having fits. Yeah . I like that one. You can run balls to the wall. And my tits will have fits.”

Despite a valiant effort, Klein fails to suppress his laughter. My eyes cut toward Tomer, and he’s barely holding it in.

“Every day, you fuckers give me more reasons to invest in those shock collars,” I grumble.

Mia puts her head down, still fighting her chuckles. “Sorry, Boss.”

“No you aren’t,” I toss back.

She shrugs casually, no longer bothering to feign being contrite. “Guilty.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyhow. This happened the day after we got the list from Katia. We had the briefing that morning, which is when Klein pointed out that Dempsey was on the list. I called him later that same day. Straight to voicemail. Then Lettie comes in to tell me she finally heard back from the chief of staff, who gave me the political middle finger.”

“The next day? Way too convenient.” Tomer stiffens, all traces of the former levity vanishing. “I fucking told you Katia was dirty. They know we’re looking into them because she told them. I guarantee it.”

Mia snaps her head to stare down Tomer. “She’s the one who gave us the list of names. Why would she do that and then run to tell them? If she were working with them, wouldn’t she just modify the list before giving it to us to remove their names? Or give us a bullshit list? There are dozens of other things she could do to fuck with us if she were aligned with Lenkov instead of Alexei’s family. It doesn’t make sense, T.”

He jabs his index finger into the table, tapping it to emphasize each word. “Because she’s playing both fucking sides.”

Tomer gets visibly agitated every damn time Katia comes up. It’s so out of character for him. Makes me wonder what he’s seeing that the rest of us aren’t.

As my mind reels, I steeple my fingers in front of my face and swoop my gaze around the table. I don’t ever discount my team’s reactions. They all have good instincts, and it’s worth hearing them out.

I raise my chin toward Klein, who’s seemingly deep in thought. “Klein, what do you think about this one?”

He leans back in his chair, folding his bent arms behind his head. “I’m inclined to side with Mia on this one.”

“Shocking no one,” Tomer snarks under his breath.

Blowing him off, Klein rolls his eyes. “You’re suggesting Katia was forced to hand over the list of seventy-two. The unaltered list. Then, in an attempt to fix things for the other side, she circles back to the people on the list and tells them not to talk to Redleg. Think about how unlikely that is for a minute.”

Tomer’s irritation swells like a mushroom cloud over his head. “Look, I know I’m not the best people reader, and I don’t have Big Al’s or Leo’s legendary gut instincts. Nonetheless, I’m telling you that something is up with her. Maybe she didn’t tell everyone on the list, but she must have told those two in particular. Examine the facts. She was sleeping with Viktor and Nikolai Lenkov, one of whom is the father of her unborn baby. And we know she was directing activities regarding the trafficking operation on Viktor’s behalf. An innocent bystander doesn’t do shit like that.”

Klein and Mia have no comebacks for that. Nor do I.

That’s shady as fuck.

Picking the pen back up, Klein resumes the incessant tapping.

“Oh, and another thing,” Tomer starts, his volume spiking. “The fucking jump drive Katia gave us used to have cargo ship routes on it. One of the names on said list is a director from the Miami Port Authority—Huxley Bowen. The one who always gets the virgins. If you ask me, it’s a red flag for her to have any connection to him. Given all this shit, I don’t trust Katia.”

“The drive didn’t necessarily come from the Port Authority, though,” Mia counters. “There are many reasons for someone in the bratva to have cargo ship routes. And we know Katia is stuck with Lenkov. She might have just grabbed the first available jump drive she found to copy the list before giving it to us. For all we know, she’s sneaking onto Lenkov’s computer when he’s asleep to get this type of information for us. That might have been his jump drive. Why are you so dead set on thinking the worst of her?”

Tomer fires back, “Why are you so dead set on defending her?”

“Because she’s been Lenkov’s prisoner since she was a child. I think she’s doing what she can to save herself, especially now that her brother has vanished from WITSEC, thus abandoning her and the rest of their little family . It’s brave of her to work with us. She’s risking her life and the life of her baby to help take Lenkov down. To me, she’s earned some trust.”

“She was also strategizing with Skidmark about setting up new trafficking houses on the night I captured him. Helping them hurt more girls like Lettie. To me, that removes all the trust you think she’s earned.”

Mia puffs out her chest. “I don’t like that either, Tomer. But it doesn’t negate the other facts.”

This is getting out of control.

I flap my hands in a shushing gesture. “All right. Calm down. You both make solid arguments. Fact is, we’ve got lots of questions at this stage and very few answers. Only one way to fix that. Where are we on setting up surveillance on Katia?”

Since still-fuming Mia and Tomer don’t jump in with an answer, Klein steps up. “As far as we know, she lives inside Nikolai’s mansion and rarely leaves. We know he’s always scanning for surveillance, and as good as we are, I doubt we can breeze past all his security to plant bugs. Personally, I have no clue how to tag her phone or belongings unless we park someone down the street from Lenkov’s twenty-four seven and hope she leaves on her own. However, I don’t count on her leaving very often. I imagine it wasn’t easy for her to get out by herself to make the drop the other night.”

Tomer interjects, calmer this time. “She didn’t do it by herself. Someone had to drive that delivery truck that picked her up and almost ran over Sawyer in the process. And she was also out alone on the night she met Skidmark at that bar.”

“That’s true. We have reason to believe she’s got some measure of freedom.” I shake out the tension in my shoulders, then scroll through my tablet to view the lineup. “ If I can spare someone to camp out in the vicinity of Lenkov’s place, is there a safe spot for them to surveil? I don’t want one of our people to be a sitting duck. And I doubt I’ll be able to find more than one person for backup.”

“I can send a drone around there to look around after we finish here,” Klein offers.

“Be careful it’s not detected,” I caution him.

“They’ll probably suspect it’s the government if they see it,” Mia suggests, her head bobbing from side to side. “Then again, they know we’re out to get them.”

Not finding many options on the schedule, I turn to Tomer. “Do you know when Lettie’s friend plans to return to Georgia? I could really use Jonesy and Aaron back.”

He reopens his laptop while keeping his eyes on me. “Stella will go back eventually, but I don’t know when. Even if she leaves, we’ve got Lettie’s roommate, Freya, to worry about.”

“Damn,” I grumble, my finger rapidly scrolling through the lineup and turning up a whole lot of nothing. “I’ll come back to this later. It’s like a fucking chess match to move everyone around. And I hate chess. We need to find a better way to get eyes and ears on Katia.”

Mia cuts in, “I’ll take that, Boss. Let me think about it. Dust off my old CIA toolkit.”

“Please do.” I close the schedule app on my tablet. “Let’s move on. Back to the mayor and undersheriff connection. I need answers there.”

“What do you suggest?” Klein asks.

I alternate my vision between Tomer and Klein, my pointer finger following the same track. “You two, identify their immediate family members and anyone close to them. Split it up so you can work faster. Then, partner to look for connections between the two lists. See if they have anyone in common, and if they do, dig deep into those links. However, if you don’t see any commonalities, look at the people in their immediate circle—jobs, financial, criminal background, and so on. Maybe something will come up to inform our next steps.”

“Wilco,” Klein responds with a sharp nod.

I turn to Mia. “You’re gonna follow the money. Pull together a list of the mayor’s political backers and campaign donors. I want a deep dive into his financial holdings. Same for the undersheriff. Let’s find out what they’ve got going on, both in and out of the office. Perhaps they have some interests that align or intersect.”

Leaning back in my seat, I address them as a trio. “At the end of this, you should have a hefty list of names, among other notable data. Cross-reference it to the list of seventy-two. Let’s see if we find something of value.”

“Got it,” Mia answers. “That works well with what I’m doing regarding Lenkov’s financial interests anyhow. Good call.”

“I’m more than just a pretty face,” I deadpan.

Tomer laughs, the sound catching me off guard. The Tomer of old would be hard-pressed to find humor in serious times like these. Even with his earlier frustration over the Katia topic, he’s settled back into his lighter vibe rather quickly. It warms me to my core. Lettie’s so damn good for him.

“Sorry I’m late,” Leo announces, striding in with his tablet tucked under his arm.

“Traffic jam at the elevator, Lionheart?” Tomer teases, clearly not done milking his earlier joke.

Again, I’m taken aback by his mood. Mia and I catch eyes, and she raises her brows and grins. She sees it too. Tomer milking a joke is new territory, and rather than remind him to focus, I’m inclined to let it go. Especially since I don’t want to shit on his newfound joy.

“Har har har.” Lionheart pulls up a chair, taking the last open spot at the table. “Check your emails. I just sent you something.”

Simultaneously, Tomer’s, Klein’s, and Mia’s heads whip to their laptops like they rehearsed the movement to be perfectly in sync.

I check my tablet, my eyes springing wide as I read the subject line: Local Pipeline for Ket, X, Meth, and Fet.

Mia rapidly fills her lungs, making a gasping sound. “Holy shit.”

“Is this legit?” Klein asks, his jaw unhinging.

I clap the big guy on the shoulder. “Lionheart, if this is what I think it is, your tardiness is hereby excused.”

Mia taps her fingernail on her screen. “Who drew this?”

Leo responds, “A friend of mine named Marcus West. We served together, and I’ve kept in touch with him through the years. He’s local to the area.”

Disappointment floods me, thinking of West’s wasted potential. “He’s also a fucking mess. Shady past. Addiction. Criminal activity.”

Which is why I didn’t hire him despite his qualifications.

Mia screws her face to one side. “That explains why he might be privy to this type of info.”

I tip my chin at Lionheart. “Walk us through it.”

“Hang on a second. West’s handwriting is shit.” Tomer shuffles to his workstation. “Let me bring it up on the big screen so we don’t all go blind.”

After a few clicks, he has the hand-drawn diagram on the main screen. Leo strides toward it, and the rest of us roll our chairs over for a better view.

“Keep in mind, some of this might have changed. West’s been clean for a little over two years now. It’s possible some of these players are no longer in the picture.”

Tomer rolls his hand around in a get on with it gesture.

Leo begins his explanation. “I’m a visual learner, and West is shitty at explaining things, so I asked him to sketch it out for me. This diagram is exactly what it sounds like. It’s the drug pipeline he was involved with from point A to Z . Now, we all know there are many layers in a drug operation like this, far beyond the buyer and the seller.”

Mia snaps her fingers twice. “Yeah, yeah. No shit. Carry on.”

Shaking his head, Lionheart points at the box on the far left of the diagram. “Customers or users are the first box, obviously. Local dealers are the next level. Another duh . You’ve got hundreds of them. When West used, he ended up owing more than he could pay, which is often the case. To cancel his debt, he was forced to sell at the local level. But having drug users in that role isn’t a good business practice because they have a tendency to snort all the product.”

“Where’s the fast-forward button?” Mia thrusts her finger at the other end of the diagram. “Tell me how we get to the Costa Cartel and how it relates to Lenkov. Last I checked, the Columbians worked better with the Italians than the Russians.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Leo tuts at her. “Mia, if we go straight there, you’ll miss the most exciting part.”

She flops her hands onto her lap in frustration. “Well, just tell us that part then.”

Klein pats the top of her thigh. “Easy, tiger. He’ll get there.”

“Fine. I’ll speed it up since we have the patience of toddlers in here.” Leo shifts his stance, moving toward the middle of the board. “At first, West thought he was buying from small-time drug runners. He had no clue how massive the organization was or what he’d end up doing for Costa.”

“This doesn’t sound good,” Klein mutters.

Leo continues. “Because West had specialized skills from the military, he was given an opportunity to pay off his debt in other ways.”

Becoming visibly concerned, Klein scruffs his hand over his jaw. “Oh no. What did he do?”

“West was a technical specialist in the Rangers,” Tomer muses. “Not only does he know his way around a computer, but he can kill you with his bare hands or from hundreds of feet away, so the possibilities are endless.”

Leo nods in Tomer’s direction. “Exactly. He did a little bit of everything.” He shifts his eyes to me, brows raised. “Speaking of his illegal activities, what I’m about to tell you?—”

Sensing what’s coming, I jump to the answer he wants. “Lionheart, unless West did something directly to contribute to what they did to Lettie or your mother, we’ll keep his name out of this to the extent possible. So long as he’s clean, we’ll use his intel, and that’s it. Fair?”

Not only do I check Leo’s reaction to that decree, but the others at the table. Even Tomer nods, probably since I added the caveat about Lettie.

“Just making sure. He’s clean now and says he’s cut all ties with them.” Leo’s chest expands with a deep breath, and he returns his attention to the diagram. “At first, West was asked to rough up the low-level dealers and buyers. Basically to keep them in line or get them to pay their debts. Naturally, he was good at it and got results. That pushed him up the chain. He began serving as security for the bigger fish when they’d go to make high-level deals and move huge quantities of product. Essentially, they made him one of their goons.” He points to a box in the center of the drawing. “But he was still in the middle of the organization.”

“Even still, he had to have heard a lot during those discussions,” Tomer suggests.

Leo dips his chin in agreement. “Correct. But it didn’t stop there for him. I’ll spare you the whole story of how it came to be, but he ended up in a somewhat pivotal role. And that’s when he learned who he was really working for—the Costa Cartel.”

“What’s their claim to fame?” Klein asks.

Mia eagerly responds. “The Costas are a crime syndicate out of Columbia. Heavy ties to various guerilla organizations and rebel forces.”

Klein resumes tapping his pen on the table. “Guns? Drugs? People?”

Mia splays her hands wide. “All that and more. Government corruption, kidnapping plots, and most recently, they’ve been big players in the Columbian emerald trade wars.”

While he chews on that, I redirect us to Leo and the topic du jour. “Lionheart, what did West do for the cartel in this new role?”

“Scouted locations for big trades, set up surveillance infrastructure for them, blocked enemy surveillance, helped them find corrupt members of law enforcement or those who were corruptible. All that kind of shit. He really got his hands dirty, and he’s lucky his ass isn’t in prison for life.”

My gut sours. All the talent that kid had, and he couldn’t get his shit together enough to use it for good.

Looking back, I wish I’d had more time with him. He was in my unit so briefly that I had no idea where his head was or that he was susceptible to this type of thing.

Too late now. Sadly.

I wave my hand toward the diagram. “Carry on, Lionheart.”

“Right, so this next ring is where I think we have the most valuable intel.” He points at a long list written in West’s barely legible scrawl. “He jotted these down off the top of his head. These are the organizations from some of the bigger deals. And we’ve got a few names to investigate.”

Tomer returns to his workstation and zooms in on the list. He chuckles darkly. “Recognize anyone, kids?”

Klein drops that fucking pen, which is a damn good thing since I was about to snatch it out of his hand and throw it at his face. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he whines.

Mia’s head sags forward. “Dammit.”

Unlike the others, my reaction isn’t because I was proved right or wrong. It’s full of disappointment. “Well, fuck me.”

The grin on Tomer’s face is somewhere between gloating and disappointed. He cocks his brow at Mia. “What are the odds, huh?”

On the list of players, one name stands above the rest.

Katia Bugrov.