Chemical Burn Page 5

  “Careful, that thing sticks sometimes,” I said as I pushed a pair of swim fins and diving mask off the seat and onto the floor at her feet. “Don’t mind the dive gear. I don’t normally have passengers.”

  She unbuckled the belt easily and clicked it back in. “Seems fine to me,” she replied. I shrugged.

  The rest of the garage was empty, save for a motorcycle along the far wall of a type I’m sure Natalia had never seen. Her eyes lingered on it, but I said nothing. It didn’t have a motor at all, just a solid block of silvery metal and black bodywork all around. I put on the hat and sunglasses, adjusted the weapon hooked into my belt, and started up the truck.

  “Nice hat,” she said grinning.

  “Yee haw,” I said calmly.

  Pulling down the sunshade, I pressed the door remote, and the garage door slid quickly open. I pulled the truck out, and closed the door behind me. We travelled in silence. I had no more questions for the time being. I think she wanted to avoid getting that confused look she got every time I spoke. Fortunately, traffic was light, so we passed through downtown quickly and headed towards Marina Del Rey. At the marina I pulled into a large parking lot, found a spot close to the docks, and turned off the truck.

  “Did you remember the swimsuit?” I asked.

  “In the purse I took.”

  “Good.” We got out and walked to the third pier, stopping at the last boat on the end. On the left stood a muscular, ebony-skinned man of middle age, bare-chested and not a trace of fat on his frame. The sun shone off his bald head as he untied the ropes of a large, cabin-cruiser fishing boat moored to the dock. We could see a small group of mostly overweight men drinking beer and laughing with each other. On the right was a thirty-foot, black, Velocity VR1 powerboat.

  “Hey, Boom-Boom!” I called. “How’s my boat?”

  Boom Boom Llanos had been a friend since the Green Orca case. He’d taken me out in his boat for a sneak-and-peak, and we’d been buddies ever since. He turned, his face lighting up when he saw me, and he waved at us vigorously. He spoke with a light Caribbean accent. “Justin! Good to see you man. And the boat’s fine. They were here yesterday scrubbing hulls. They got yours and mine at the same time.”

  “Taking another charter out?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Studio execs. ‘Gone fishin,’” Boom-Boom said imitating them. “I heard one of them tell his wife that he would be working late.”

  “Typical,” I said smiling. “We’re only going to be gone an hour or so. By the way, this is Carla,” I added motioning to Natalia. “Carla, Boom-Boom Llanos.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Boom-Boom said, nodding his head in her direction.

  “Hi, Boom-Boom. Nice to meet you, too.”

  “Don’t have too much fun while you’re out there,” I called from the side of my powerboat.

  “Yeah, right,” Boom-Boom said sarcastically. “You either,” he added, raising an eyebrow in Natalia’s direction ever so slightly. “Catch ya later, man.”

  “See ya,” I replied, waving. I helped Natalia into the boat. “Go change downstairs. I’ll pull us out.”

  She wordlessly went down into the cabin and closed the door.

  I untied the mooring lines, hopped back in the boat and took off my coat, throwing it on the bench behind me. I plopped down into the driver’s seat and pulled out the key from under the dash where I kept it. The boat fired up on the first turn, and the powerful engines grumbled to life. I easily backed it out and pulled into the bay. The email from Pyotr’s assistant to DiMarco had included directions to where Nikolov kept his yacht. It was about a half-mile across the bay on the south side, near the Mason Yachts International facility. I idled out of the inlet and slowly pulled into the bay on relatively calm waters, so I pushed the throttle up to run at about ten miles an hour. Leaning back in my chair, I took a moment to simply enjoy the sunshine.

  “Natalia?” I called below deck after a few minutes.

  “Yes?”

  “Before you come up, can you open that hatch to the right of the door and bring up the black nylon bag that’s on the top shelf? And bring a towel with you, same compartment.”

  “Of course!” she yelled. “I’m almost done.”

  After a couple of minutes, Natalia opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. It took everything I had not to whistle.

  “Excellent choice,” I said, grinning like a teenager as I took in Natalia’s bikini. I knew perfectly well that Rachel kept one-piece suits in the closet, but Natalia had gone for a fairly revealing selection in crimson that highlighted both her full tan and red wig—among other things.

  She glared at me. “Don’t say a word, Case. This is business.”

  “Of course,” I said still grinning like an idiot. “Mum’s the word.” Then something strange happened—in my head. I saw Natalia, and there was no doubt she was a sight to be seen, but I could only think about Rachel. And as I thought about her, I got this funny feeling in the middle of my chest, like a spark or an ache. I’d never felt it before, and I really had no idea what it was.

  Natalia handed me the nylon bag, breaking me out of my reverie, and stood next to me. She looked where we were headed. “Got any sunglasses?” she asked, holding her hand over her eyes.

  Without looking I opened a small compartment next to the steering wheel and handed a pair of Oakley’s over my shoulder. Natalia grabbed them and put them on.

  “Hop up onto the bow, will you?” I asked. “Just lay on the towel, facing me,” I added, reaching into the bag.

  She climbed up, threw down the towel and lay on it, leaning up on her elbows with her ankles crossed. From the bag I pulled out a device that looked like a small white funnel with a gray pencil stuck through the middle. The whole thing was attached to a gray pistol grip with a single button for the trigger. I slid open a small panel on the side of the grip and adjusted the range to one-hundred yards. Closing the panel, I held it out to Natalia.

  “Here, take this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Shotgun mic … sort of.”

  “I’ve never seen one this small before.” Natalia gave me a sarcastic look. “I bet you get that a lot, don’t you,” she added.

  Smiling, I reached into the bag, pulled out two small ear-buds, and put one in my ear. “Use this,” I said, handing the other one to her. She did so, and it was small enough to disappear almost completely. I increased the throttle a bit and turned the boat into the bay, away from where I knew Nikolov’s boat was moored. I traveled up about a quarter of a mile then turned back down towards the ocean at a diagonal towards the Mason shipyards. As we approached I toggled the ignition and revved the throttle, making it appear as if I was having engine trouble. I stalled it out a few times and, as we approached the pier, turned the boat around, backing it smoothly into the last empty slot furthest from the shore.

  “What’s the plan?”

  “See that yacht behind me?” I asked without looking. “The big one called the Georgian Princess?”

  Natalia looked past me. About a hundred yards away she saw the boat with a figure on the top deck sitting at a table. At that range it was difficult, but she picked out the bald head of Pyotr Nikolov.

  “I’m going to work on the engines while you languish there in the sun. Just press that button and point it at them. If they go inside, try and point it at the windows.”

  “Clever,” she said dryly.

  “Sometimes the simplest plans are the best ones,” I said, looking at my watch. It was ten-fifteen, so we had some waiting to do. “Tell me who’s at the meeting other than DiMarco or Nikolov if you recognize them, okay?”

  “You got it.”

  I headed for the aft section of the boat, lifted both panels and fiddled with the hoses. About ten minutes later a voice came over their ear-buds. It was in Russian, but Natalia translated for me.

  “The Italians are here, Mister Nikolov … and you should look at this.” A large man in a gray suit stepped up to Pyotr a
nd hand him something.

  Pyotr laughed quietly. “Interesting,” he said in English. Pyotr had a deep voice with a moderate Russian accent.

  “Should I do anything about it?” the man asked in English.

  “No. It could have its uses later. But maintain an Andropov protocol till the signal clears.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the man replied.

  “Now, send in those Italian clowns.”

  A minute later we heard the shuffling of footsteps and scraping of patio furniture, then their meeting began.

  ***

  Big and Little Fish

  “Please, have a seat Mister DiMarco,” Nikolov offered.

  “Nikolov,” Gino said, nodding as he sat down. Ricky and Tony-Two-Fingers took up positions standing behind Gino with their hands crossed in front of them. Nikolov sat alone, but there were men in gray suits scattered throughout the ship.

  “Have you given any more thought to my proposal?” Nikolov asked.

  “We’re still working out how the numbers crunch,” DiMarco offered, his New Jersey accent leaking through. “It’s true that our volume and revenue would increase considerably, especially if we went global, and in spite of the significantly lower rates you quoted us. But a trade secret is a trade secret, know what I mean? And we’re doing pretty well shipping to damn near everywhere west of the Rockies.”

  “I understand. Business decisions take time and careful thought.” Nikolov took a sip of iced tea and changed the subject. “I understand you were unable to attend to Miss Voinovich. It was sloppy as well.”

  “She got lucky. We’ll get it done,” DiMarco assured him.

  “Your first attempt made interesting reading in the L.A. Times, Gino. I prefer a much lower profile when attending to such things. Such mishaps can draw the attention of Federal intervention, and we would not want that, would we? Such a complication could jeopardize our business arrangement.”

  “Don’t worry, Nikolov. I’ve got enough connections to keep the heat off while we get it done. We’d have to drop a bomb in the city for it to get up to the Feds.”

  “I’m trusting you, Gino. For now. Do not let me down. Thus far our relationship has been amicable. It would be a shame if I had to change that.”

  “Oh, I agree.”

  “I have one more thing to add to your calculations for whether to go into business with us or not,” Nikolov added, his tone changing to a slightly threatening one.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “I had my organization look into what the chemist was working on for Miss Voinovich.” Nikolov paused again, taking a long sip of iced tea. DiMarco’s face was stoic, but he shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. Nikolov didn’t miss the tell.

  “It seems Mister Li was not working on fuel as we were led to believe.”

  “Really? What was he working on?” Gino was a good enough card player to make it look like he was ignorant.

  “Are you sure that your motive for wanting them dead was an unpaid gambling debt?” Nikolov asked.

  “Are you kidding me? The two of them were into us for three-hundred grand. They both had a taste for high-stakes poker … they just weren’t very good at it.”

  “I see,” Pyotr said. “As to your question, Mister Li happens to have been working on something that could jeopardize your shipping methods with a competitive product. It is an interesting coincidence.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Gino said innocently, keeping up the façade.

  “It’s not important,” Nikolov said. “What is important is that were Li’s efforts to come to fruition, your business could be threatened. I tell you this out of friendship. We are, however, looking into his research and should be able to finish it. We would then control whether it saw the light of day or not.”

  “I understand, Nikolov,” DiMarco said a bit tensely. Nikolov had threatened him in the nicest possible way without actually holding a gun to DiMarco’s head.

  Gino was the kind of mobster perfectly willing to make a deal with the devil if the money was good enough—so long as they stayed partners. If they weren’t partners, it sounded as if Nikolov would have the ability to shut down DiMarco’s production or shipping mechanism, essentially putting him out of business.

  “So, based on that addition to your calculations,” Nikolov said easily, “have you come to any last-minute conclusions regarding my proposition?”

  “Now that you mention it, I think we could be persuaded to work with you, but we’d need to increase the cost per unit by two percent.”

  Based on what I’d read in an email to his assistant, he had been willing to go up three percent if absolutely necessary.

  “I believe that my organization could manage one percent over the original figures and still keep our investors satisfied.”

  “Deal,” DiMarco said sounding as if he’d achieved a victory. “It’ll take me a few weeks to get everything ramped up and ready for you. Can you wait till then?”

  “Of course, Gino. Take as much time as you need. You can contact me when you are ready.”

  I heard Gino start to get out of his chair, but Nikolov stopped him.

  “There is one other thing, Gino.” Nikolov’s tone had changed from friendly to cold, bordering on dangerous.

  “What’s that?” Gino sounded nervous.

  “I could forgive the sloppy attempt last night, save for one small matter.” Nikolov sounded like a wolf preparing to pounce.

  “And that is?”

  “One of my soldiers did not come back to me.” Nikolov paused, his voice turning deadly. “The driver your men killed was one of mine. You owe me one life, Mister DiMarco. And I expect payment in full.”

  Gino’s expression bordered on horrified. “You can’t be serious. It was an accident. He got in the way. Besides, we didn’t even know,” DiMarco’s reply a mixture of defiance and thinly veiled fear.

  Nikolov’s tone was openly threatening. “I do not kid about such things. Even accidents must be paid for, and unpaid debts of this kind lead to wars.” He stood up. “You could not win a war with me,” he pointed out.

  “What? Am I supposed to just hand someone over to you?”

  “Precisely. Someone from your organization must be compensation for the debt you owe.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then the full weight of Solntsevskaya will be brought to bear upon your paltry family. Your brothers in New York will not help you, as it would be bad for their international interests. They know the cost. And all for one paltry man. It is a small price to pay for peace and good business. Do you not agree?”

  “Can I think about it?” DiMarco said, beaten.

  “No. You may not. Have the man delivered to me by sundown. Now go.”

  ***

  Show Time

  “Jesus, he’s a tough bastard,” I said quietly as I fiddled with the hoses.

  “You have no idea,” Natalia replied. “He’s ruthless … and brilliant. He runs their U.S. operations for a reason, and I doubt he’ll be satisfied with that.” Natalia looked around the bay, checking out the passing ships. “I think we can go now.”

  “Let’s wait a few minutes. I don’t want us leaving the moment their conversation is over. Someone might have seen us pull up.”

  “Good point,” she agreed.

  We stayed put another ten minutes as I awkwardly hung half out of the engine compartment and Natalia languished in the sunshine. She seemed to be enjoying it. I suspected that her work didn’t allow for much relaxation, so enjoying a few stolen minutes sunbathing made sense.

  I closed the two hatches, moved to the cockpit, and started up the engines as she got off of the bow and sat in the seat next to me. I pulled the boat out slowly, throttled up and headed across the bay. She surprised the hell out of me with what she wanted to do next.

  “Listen, I’ve got to get back to my house.” Natalia’s face was a mask, but I saw controlled fear and unwavering resolve in her eyes. She knew what she was askin
g.

  I gave her an incredulous look. She was completely out of her mind. “DiMarco’s probably got your place staked out,” I said, putting it as lightly as I could, which wasn’t much.

  “Yes. Most certainly.” She struggled with some internal decision and then sighed. “Look, Case, the uncomfortable truth is that I have little choice. I have to trust you with more than the rules allow, more than I would ever feel comfortable with under normal circumstances. Xen said you could be trusted, and that I could never ask for a better man to be in my corner.”

  “He said that, did he? That must have been hard for you to say,” I smiled gently.

  “You have no idea.” She didn’t look at me.

  “They almost got you last night,” I added, showing genuine concern.

  “Yes, but they didn’t, and it’s because of you.”

  “And going to your house is important enough to risk us both getting shot?” I asked. “I hate getting shot, you know.”

  “I’m not all that happy about risking a bullet wound either, but I’m afraid I have no choice. You are my only option. I have to trust you.”

  “I’m the most trustworthy creature on the planet,” I said seriously. “No joke. And we’re still after the same thing … the people who killed Xen.” A flicker of pain danced across her face, but it quickly vanished.

  “We are,” she said coldly.

  “Now we know who it was, but we still don’t really know why.”

  “True,” she said, looking into my eyes and struggling with what she wanted to say. “You seem to be a good man, Justin. Xen spoke very highly of you … often … and I don’t think you’re a threat to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I’m not what I appear to be,” she added almost in a whisper.

  “Don’t worry. I know,” I smiled kindly. I wanted to ease her mind, so I changed the subject to the task at hand. “Venice Beach, right?” I asked, referring to her house.