Monica Beach and, in my opinion, is one of the most delightful little hotels in Southern California.
I handed over my car to the valet and went upstairs to our ocean-view suite on the second floor. Delfina and Chooch were both inside doing their homework.
'Hi. Where's Mom?' I asked, as I came through the door.
'Gonna be late,' Chooch said. 'She called and said she wants us to get dinner without her.'
Franco was out on the balcony leering at seagulls swooping in over his head, turning back and forth, watching them with hungry eyes. I got a beer from the minibar and joined him. The beautiful white sand beach stretched out beyond the bike path where the surf thundered in, making turquoise and white foam. Off to the right was the Santa Monica Pier where we had our disastrous noontime meeting.
I sat on the balcony taking in the view as the afternoon sun set; thinking about the events of the afternoon.
A wasted day.
Worse still, we'd exposed ourselves without any result and put the Russian mob on alert, giving them the opportunity to destroy key evidence.
Chapter 57
So far, nobody at Parker Center had been told how badly we'd screwed up, but I knew I was going to have to fill Alexa in when she arrived.
The phone rang, so I walked inside to answer. 'Good, you're there,' Alexa said. 'How'd it go?' 'Terrific,' I lied, chickening out, telling myself I'd rather give her the bad news in person. 'I left Cooper and Dark down there to scan the computers and dig out anything they can find on the forged gas tax records.'
'Yeah. I know. I got a call from the Petrovitches' attorney. Some Eastern Euro shyster named Sebastian Sebum. He's been all over us with temporary restraining orders and show cause writs. Guy's a real meat grinder. I called Detective Cooper. He says, so far, it looks like a grunion hunt. If they're running a gas tax fraud, they have it pretty well papered over. I told Tony I wouldn't pull them out without your okay, but everybody down here thinks it's a wasted play.'
'Take 'em out,' I sighed. 'I'm gonna work on coming up with something else.'
'I think that's a good idea,' she said, then hesitated, adding, 'Listen, we found out who planted all those bugs in the Glass House. A tech in ESD named Ivan Roson-short for Rosonovitch. He hanged himself two hours before he was scheduled to take his polygraph. It's a circus down here. We're working on a statement for the press. Take the kids down to the Pier and get them something to eat. That fancy restaurant downstairs is nice, but it's a little pricey for our budget.'
I told her I loved her, and we hung up.
At a little past eight, the kids and I left the hotel and walked along the beachfront bike path to the pier. It was a warm night and now there were hundreds of people milling around on the rebuilt wooden structure. I bought Delfina and Chooch hotdogs and ice cream, and we sat on a bench, not a hundred yards from where I'd sat that morning. Funny how savvy our plan seemed, just eight hours ago. Now it felt like total nonsense.
'Hey, Dad, wanta go on the Ferris wheel with us?' Chooch asked, after finishing his food.
'Yes, Shane. Come with us,' Delfina pleaded.
'You guys go. I've had a bad day. Got a lot on my mind.'
'You've been really quiet,' Del said. 'Maybe if you tell us, we can help.'
'You guys help by just being here. Go ride the wheel. I'll buy a camera and get some pictures.'
I handed them twenty dollars and they went off to get in line. I walked down the pier to a vendor's stand and bought a Kodak throwaway. As I headed back toward the big, colorful wheel, someone suddenly pressed hard against me on the right. Then a big body leaned in on the left.
'Hey,' I said. 'Watch where you're-'
I heard a loud Zap. Intense pain shot into the small of my back. When the department gave us Taser training at the academy, we were forced to take a jolt to see what it felt like. Once you've taken a Taser shot, you don't forget it. I tried to lurch away as my muscles twitched and jumped with electrical overload. I staggered forward and fell.
'My friend is having a heart attack!' somebody with an Eastern European accent shouted out in dismay.
Then three or four faces belonging to overfed men in their mid-thirties, were peering down at me.
'This way! He needs a hospital!' one with a Euro accent shouted.
They grabbed me. My muscles were still convulsing with the charge.
'No!' I tried to say as they lifted me. But my voice wouldn't work. I was helpless.
'My car's this way,' another shouted. Then I was being hustled off the Pier.
They ran with me down the steps into the parking lot. We stopped in a dark area of the lot. Somebody stood me upright and held me. My muscles were chattering and my hands jerked uncontrollably. One of the men took a syringe out of his pocket, removed the plastic tip, and shoved it into my thigh, depressing the plunger, and emptying the cylinder.
In seconds my vision started to dim.
I vaguely heard a trunk open and I was dropped onto a hard, rough surface. The lid slammed shut. Everything went black.
I opened my eyes.
I was sitting in a wooden chair.
'This is un-fucking-acceptable!' someone was yelling in American English. It was coming from another room.
I recognized that voice. Agent Kersey Nix. The mild-mannered FBI agent from the Tishman Building.
My body ached and my head buzzed like a broken radio. I tried to move, but discovered that all four of my appendages were securely taped to the chair with black electrical tape. The chair seemed to be bolted to the floor because it wouldn't budge. I looked down and saw what appeared to be dried blood on the concrete underneath me. Then I took a careful inventory of the room. I was in a garage. A single, exposed light-bulb hung from a cord in the center of the space and a black Cadillac Brougham was parked under it. Somewhere I heard the distant sound of thundering surf.
. He come. . he say, `Suck my dick, yakoff.' ' It was Sammy Petrovitch complaining. 'Fucking asshole-fucking piece-of-shit asshole.'
'You shut up!' Nix shouted. 'Talk to him, Igor. This isn't working anymore. He's gonna put our whole thing in the shredder.'
'Sammy has. . he has problems. He will get this worked out,' Igor said.
'He didn't used to be like this,' Nix responded.
'He say, `suck my dick, yakoff!' I no listen to this shit-motherfucker!'
I'd really stirred up some trouble with my trip to Century City. I realized dully that I'd actually accomplished what I set out to do this morning. I'd frightened the Petrovitches enough to get them to grab me. But I'd underestimated them. They were smart enough to do it on their timetable, not mine. I wondered how they found me. While we were inside the dress company, did one of them sneak over the fence and plant another bug on my car? However it happened, they'd waited until I was separated from my backup and made their move. Now I was alone and in big trouble.
The side door into the house suddenly opened and Kersey Nix stood backlit, in the threshold. Behind him I could see a modern kitchen. He moved toward me followed by Iggy Petrovitch. Sammy loomed in the doorway, watching.
I kept thinking, What the hell is Kersey Nix doing here?
'You were told by Mr. Virtue to go away,' he said. 'Apparently, you don't hear so good.'
'I'm kind of tone deaf. But I'm getting over it. I get the message now.'
'Too late.'
'Too bad.' I took a deep breath. 'Where are we?' 'A long way from L. A.,' he said.
'What the hell do you and R. A. Virtue have to do with these Odessa thugs?'
