Cervena (19 page)

“Very well. Wait.”

I listened to a long silence, broken only by the sound of a door slamming. Eventually, muffled voices reached me before Sasha spoke into the phone. “Joel? I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me.”

“Thank God. I’m so sorry this happened, I’ll—”

“That’s enough.” Sasha was gone, and “the boss” was on the other end of the line again. “You heard what he said. He’s unhurt. That will not be the case this time tomorrow if you do not settle your debt. I warned you and you paid me short.”

“I told you I could only get eleven million.”

“And I told you it wasn’t enough. You have twenty-four hours. At that time you’ll receive another call, and perhaps hear from your little bartender if he’s still capable of speech. If payment hasn’t been made, it will increase by five hundred thousand each day until it’s settled.”

I opened my mouth to protest but the line had been disconnected, and I dropped the phone onto the table. Then as pointless as I’d told myself it was, I picked it up again and called the police. I spoke to the officer who’d been to see me before—he was working a night shift. Given the dire circumstances and the connection to Karel’s murder, he promised to be with me in thirty minutes, and I spent that time worrying I’d made the wrong decision. What could they do when they had nothing to go on except the description of the man who’d taken Sasha from outside the club? What could they do that wouldn’t put him in more danger?

I paced the room as I waited, and when the officer arrived, he had two others with him, one of whom set to work on my phone. He installed various pieces of equipment to try to trace the origins of the last incoming call and any future calls. When this was done, I took him to the club to set up surveillance equipment on the phone there. After we returned to the apartment, I told the officers everything I could, including the details of the bank account I’d sent the money to. The questions seemed to go on for hours, but there was little I could say that would be helpful. Every minute that passed made me regret calling them a little bit more. I’d known it was a mistake even as I’d dialed the officer’s number, but desperation had prompted me, and now all I could think was that “the boss” would know what I’d done and Sasha would be hurt, maybe even killed.

MORNING CAME,
and I took a shower and forced myself to eat something. Two of the cops remained in the apartment in case of contact being made, and I made them coffee and toast. My body yearned for sleep, but I was too keyed up. Instead I made my coffee extra strong and downed several cups while I tried to decide what to do. The warning I’d received hours before rang in my ears, and I feared the police wouldn’t be able to find the people who’d taken Sasha before it was too late.

Noon passed with no further calls being received. Frantic, I made a decision to go to the club. It wasn’t as if I never did that during the afternoons and I had no doubt Sasha’s kidnappers would know where to find me. I announced my intention as I put on a jacket and shoes, and was asked to wait for another officer to accompany me for my own safety.

“I’m not concerned about my safety. They won’t do anything to me. They want me to pay them,” I said more confidently than I felt.

The cop argued with me for a couple of minutes, but eventually conceded I was probably right. These men—whoever they were—were unlikely to attack their current source of income. So I left the condo and took a cab back to the club. The cleaning staff were due to arrive at any time, so I left the staff door unlocked and went to my office. I’d barely had the chance to take off my jacket and sit down at the desk when my cell phone rang, the display showing a withheld number. I answered it immediately, my heart thundering in my chest as I wondered if this could be “the boss.” The calls had only been made via my landlines so far.

“Mr. Jones. So you went against my wishes.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have police at your home. Your phones have been tapped. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I—”

“They’re wasting their time. One of my trusted employees advised me the moment they arrived. How far do you think a person can travel in twelve hours, Mr. Jones?”

“Where are you?” I demanded. “Where’s Sasha?”

“Oh, he’s here. Proving what a whining little baby he can be.”

“Let me talk to him!” I cried, clutching the phone tighter to stop it slipping from my sweaty palm.

“All in good time. What are you going to do to rectify this situation? You’ll be aware the balance due is now four and a half million. I don’t make deals, Mr. Jones. And I don’t accept half measures. You will pay what’s due if you want to see your bartender again.”

“I can’t… I… it’ll take some time to—”

“Just remember the balance increases daily, and my employee here does seem to enjoy his new plaything.”

“What the fuck has he done to Sasha?” Immediately all the worst things I could imagine filled my head—Sasha being beaten, kicked, tied up, raped. I gulped and covered my mouth, struggling not to throw up the gallon of coffee I’d drunk earlier.

“So far not a great deal.”

“Please, let me talk to him,” I begged, hating myself for sounding so desperate.

A chuckle came in my ear, then the sound of footsteps. A door creaked open and a moment later, I heard Sasha’s voice, faint and shaking. “Please….”

“Your man wants to talk to you.”

I waited, trembling, until Sasha spoke directly into the phone. “Joel….”

“Oh, God, Sasha,” I groaned. “What have they done to you?”

“I’m… okay.”

“You’re hurt. Did they…? Please tell me they didn’t—”

“I just… I have a few bruises. That’s all.”

A muffled thud came down the phone, followed by a groan. Then “the boss” came back on the line. “You see? He’s still in one piece. I can’t promise that will continue. You will pay.”

“I’ll sort it out. I promise. Please, don’t hurt him anymore.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. As soon as I can. Please, just—”

“I’m not a patient man, Mr. Jones. You have until midnight tomorrow. Write down these details. I have a different bank account for you.”

I grabbed a pen and wrote down the account number. Of course he had a different one. The first was probably empty and closed. As soon as I confirmed I had the number, the line went dead, and I slumped against the desk, tears pricking my eyes. What the hell was I going to do? Short of asking Rosalyn for money and having to tell her what was going on, I couldn’t see how—

Suddenly I knew what I had to do. After everything that had happened, it was probably for the best anyway. I needed to take Sasha away, somewhere I knew he’d be safe, where I wouldn’t always be looking over my shoulder. Even with the debt paid, how would I know they’d leave us alone? I knew nothing about this underworld of gambling and murder.

Snatching up the landline phone, I punched at the buttons in an effort to find the list of recently received calls. There had been very few, and I didn’t expect any number to be revealed to show where “the boss” had called from, but that wasn’t what I was looking for.

I recognized a couple of local numbers from suppliers I used and then found one unknown number. Hoping for the best, I dialed from my cell phone, conscious that I was avoiding having the police equipment record my call. Rash it may be, but I couldn’t think of any other way.

“Yes?” A woman answered, which surprised me for some reason.

“I’d like to speak to Vincenc Jankovic, please.”

“Who is this?”

“My name is Joel Jones. I own the nightclub, Červenà. Mr. Jankovic called me recently and I’d like to get in touch with him.”

“Hold, please.”

I was treated to an oddly jolly brass band tune while I waited… and waited. Minutes ticked by and I wondered whether she’d forgotten about me, but then I heard a click and a man spoke. I immediately recognized his voice.

“Mr. Jones. Or may I call you Joel?”

“Please do.”

“I’m somewhat surprised to receive your call.”

“I had a change of heart. I wondered if you are still interested in the club.”

“Hmm. You seemed so adamant you wouldn’t sell. What changed?”

“I’m in trouble,” I blurted. If anybody would understand my predicament, this mobster’s son would. “You remember speaking to my ex-partner, Karel Doubrava?”

“Oh yes. Dead, isn’t he?”

“Murdered. Yes. He ran up huge gambling debts. He had no family and the man he owed has come after me. I borrowed what I could from the bank, but it’s not enough. He’s kidnapped my bartender. My, um….”

“Lover?” Vincenc prompted.

“Yes.”

“Yes, I doubt anybody would sound so desperate over an employee. Who is this man?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen him, only spoken to him on the phone. He has an employee who’s been to the club—tall, ugly, thick lips.”

There was a long silence. I caught faint muffled voices and realized Vincenc had probably covered the mouthpiece with his hand. Eventually he spoke again.

“The man you spoke of is Polish. The leader, I mean. Piotr Kowalski. A member of my family has come across him in the past. A weak man, but spiteful.”

“Thanks, but I need to know. Are you still interested in Červenà?”

“I think I could be persuaded. I offered your partner twenty-five million. Is this acceptable?”

I calculated in my head. Eight to pay back the bank, four and a half or maybe five to pay off Piotr Kowalski, that left around twelve million over, which equated to three hundred thousand pounds. I still had the condos. With three hundred grand I could buy a business in England. Not in London, but somewhere not too far. Maybe a small bar.

“Joel?” Vincenc prompted.

“It’s acceptable,” I breathed. “How soon…?”

“How soon can you have the money?” He sounded as if he were smiling. “How soon can you have the sale papers drawn up?”

“I’ll need to call my solicitor. Maybe today if I lean on him.”

“Make an appointment. I’ll attend and sign the documents. Then we’ll go to Červenà, you can show me around and I’ll use my new office to transfer the money.”

“Thank you.” I almost choked. “I really appreciate—”

“I’m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I want the club. We have a mutual enemy. I don’t like to waste time in business. Make the call to your solicitor. I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He hung up before I could respond and I sank back in my chair, shaking all over. I’d done it. I’d sold, or was about to sell the club I’d built up from nothing and loved for so long, but it was nothing to what I felt for Sasha. Soon he’d be safe, and I’d take him back to England. Now I just had to find a way to tell the loyal staff I was about to abandon them.

Chapter Thirteen

AN HOUR
later I spoke to my solicitor. Although I did my best to stay calm during the phone call, my desperation must have been audible in my voice. By the time I made it past the man’s secretary, who initially insisted he was unavailable until the next day, my tension had ratcheted up another notch.

I used the recent death of my mother to hurry things along, explaining that I was needed back home and that my family were struggling financially. I wanted to leave by the end of the week.

Eventually, a meeting was agreed to in the solicitor’s office for the following afternoon and I made a second call to Vincenc. This time I only spoke to the woman who answered the phone, but she told me she was expecting me to call back with an appointment time and address. I gave them to her and she repeated the information back to me before hanging up abruptly. I left my office and went into the bar to help myself to a large whiskey while I waited for the staff to arrive. It would be a few hours yet, but I didn’t want to go back to the apartment and deal with the police. I had no intention of telling them the name of the man who’d taken Sasha, at least not until all of this was over. Every decision I’d made so far seemed to have made things worse, and maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut and not called the cops in the first place, Sasha wouldn’t have been hurt, only held. I wanted him safe in my arms before I told them Piotr Kowalski was responsible for Sasha’s kidnap and Karel’s death.

By the time the club staff began to arrive, I struggled to contain my emotions. The club had been such a big part of my life for so long, and I’d grown fond of each and every one of my employees. When I’d spoken to Vincenc, I’d known it was the only thing I could do, but I hadn’t realized quite how bad I’d feel when it came to telling them.

When Ralph, the bar staff, and the security guys had all arrived, I called the boys down from their studios and had them gather in the bar. A few looked anxious, but most simply curious.

“What’s going on, boss?” Kris asked, and I cringed at his form of address.

“I have to tell you all something and it’s going to come as a big surprise, or more likely a shock.” I glanced around their faces, meeting each pair of eyes for a second before I moved on to the next. I paused and licked my lips, and Tomáš broke the silence.

“Where’s Sasha?”

I swallowed hard. Should I tell them, or not?

“Did something happen? I mean… you, um….” Marek looked at some of the others and shut his mouth.

“It’s all right. Most of you know Sasha and I are seeing each other.” I took a deep breath. “This is about the club. I’m afraid that I, um… I have to sell it.”

“What?”

“Sell? Why?”

“Is this because of what Karel did?”

Some of the comments were impossible to make out, as most of them spoke at once. Again I looked around the group, their expressions more worried now than curious.

“Will we lose our jobs?” Gabriel ventured when everyone else fell silent again.

“I hope not. Look, this is what the situation is. You know what happened to Karel. He was in a lot of debt, much worse than I thought. The only way I can fix things is to sell the club. The man I’m selling to will come in tomorrow to meet you all, and hopefully he’ll be able to keep all of you on. He wants the club as a going concern. I mean, he’s not going to change it into something else as far as I know. He’s tough, but a good businessman from what I know. He’s wanted the club for a while.”