Condemned (41 page)

“You did,” said Vasily in Russian. “Not the Tsar Nicholas, just Nicholas.”

Uri burst into laughter again.

“None for me,” said Tatiana.

“Oh come on, you must have something,” said Uri.

“A spritzer,” she said to the bartender.

Vasily took a pony of vodka from the bar. “Just one,” he said. “I have to get back to my place. Have you ever come to my place, Uri?”

“Not yet.”

“How come?”

“I know, I know. I just. I don't know,” said Uri. “I just felt funny, not seeing you in so many years. And the more time that went by, the more funny I felt. I didn't know your Tatiana was so beautiful. I would have come right away. Where's that vodka?”

“This is the last for me,” said Vasily as the bartender poured vodka for Nichols, Uri, and Vasily. They all raised their glasses.

“Nas …
sschhhh … sschhhh
” came over the radio in Becker's car. “Old
sschhhh.
”

“Uri, we are going to the ladies' room. Give me five dollars,” Anna said in Russian as she approached the bar with Svetlana.

“Five dollars? You going to buy the toilet seat?” Uri laughed as he took out a roll of bills. “Vasily, Tatiana, this is Anna, and Svetlana, from the old country. Svetlana has just come tonight. Anna, too, is from the old country, but she's been here a little while, right, my pet?” Uri reached out to touch Anna's hair. She dodged his reach. “This is my friend, Vasily, he is the owner of ‘Vasily's', and his daughter, Tatiana.”

“I was in there, your place, before” said Anna. “Nice place.”

“Thank you,” said Vasily.

“I go to the ladies,” she said, turning.

“Go. Have a good time. Vasily, another vodka?”

“Dad, I am going to the ladies' room, too.”

“Very well, one more, while I wait,” said Vasily, cheerfully.

“You came tonight from St. Petersburg?” Tatiana said in Russian to Svetlana inside the ladies' room.

“No, Moscow. You are a citizen here?” Svetlana said.

“No. Green Card.”

“I would also like to have a Green Card,” said Svetlana.

“Me too,” Anna called from one of the toilet cubicles.

“You know an American I can marry?” said Svetlana.

“Me, too,” called Anna. “Uri is okay to sleep with, but I need a Green Card.” Anna came out of the cubicle, pulling her jeans up over a red thong.

“Fancy underthings,” said Svetlana.

“Everyone wears thong here,” said Anna. “You know an American I can marry?” she said to Tatiana as she studied her own face in the mirror.

“There are plenty of Americans that want to marry beautiful Russian women,” said Tatiana.

“How much do they want to make a marriage?” said Svetlana. She opened the door to one of the cubicles and went inside.

“I'm not sure,” Tatiana said a bit more loudly.

“About eight thousand, American,” said Anna, washing her hands, painting lip gloss on her lips with a little brush. “That's the price you have to pay these pig Americans with their fat hands.”

“Is that a lot,” Svetlana called.

“It's enough,” Anna called back. “You come across many Americans?” she said to Tatiana.

“My boyfriend is American.”

“Maybe he has friends,” Svetlana said as she came out of the cubicle, dropping the skirt of her dress, turning to see in the mirror that her bottom was covered.

“He has a lot of American friends,” said Tatiana.

“Maybe one of them wants to make some money,” said Anna.

“You never know.”

“Here,” said Anna, tearing a paper towel from a dispenser on the wall. “You have a pen?” she said to Svetlana.

“I have one,” said Tatiana.

“Take my number, our telephone, cell and home. Same number for Svetlana. She stays with me for a while. You hear of somebody—”

“Somebodies,” said Svetlana.

“Yeah, somebodies, let us know. We will pay you a nice commission. I'm tired of having Uri all over me, and I can't even get a job—no social security number, no work permit, nothing.”

“You don't have to pay me anything,” said Tatiana taking the piece of paper with the phone numbers. “If I hear of anyone—”

“Anyones,” Svetlana interrupted.

“I'll let you know.”

“Remember, we'll pay good for the introduction to the man,” said Anna, “a good commission, invite you to the wedding, everything.” She and Svetlana laughed.

“I'll remember,” said Tatiana.

“Mother Hen, this is Bird Dog Two, do you read me?”

“Mother Hen. We read you.”

“There's something here, Mother Hen. I should say someone, I think'll interest you very much.”

“Who's that, Bird Dog Two?”

“Tony Balls Spacavento. He's just passed us, walking on Brighton Beach Avenue, about a block east of us now.”

“As in Organized Crime's Tony Balls?” Becker said into his radio.

“Very affirmative, Mother Hen.”

“You sure?”

“Saw his face on the wall-chart everyday for two years when I was on the Task Force, Mother Hen. Know that big plug-ugly anywhere.”

“What's he doing, Bird Dog Two?”

“He's stopped walking now. He's standing on the sidewalk, one block west of Romanoff's.”

Becker tried to angle his view through the windshield. The parked cars ahead were in the way. “Bird Dog One, do you see him?”

“We make him, too, Mother Hen.”

“Are you sure it's Tony Balls?”

“Bird Dog One. No question.”

“Bird Dog Two. No question.”

“What's he doing there?”

“Looks like he's waiting for something, or someone, Mother Hen.”

“Bird Dog Two, get out of there. Drive around the block. Re-position yourself further west.”

“We're okay where we are, Mother Hen. We're on the opposite side of the street.”

“I don't want him to see you, but keep a close eye on him.”

“Affirmative.”

In a short while, Sascha Ulanov came out of Romanoff's and stood on the sidewalk in front, smoking a cigarette. He was not too steady on his feet.

“Mother Hen, Brown Jacket just came out of the restaurant. He looks wasted.”

“What's he doing?”

“Smoking, looking around.”

As Sascha stood in front of the restaurant, he shook hands with a man who exited a car and entered the restaurant with a woman. He talked to someone else he knew. When he was half-through with his cigarette, he flicked it toward the gutter and turned to walk in a westward direction.

“Bird Dog One. Brown jacket is walking west on the sidewalk.”

“Is that in the direction where Tony Balls is?”

“Affirmative.”

“Bird Dog Two, what's your position?”

“A block and a half further west, Mother Hen. We see Brown Jacket. He's walking in this direction.”

“Bird Dog Two. Where is Tony Balls at this point?”

“East of us. Brown Jacket is further east, walking towards Balls.”

“Are they on the same side of the street as you, Bird Dog Two?”

“Negative. We're facing in the opposite direction. They're on the north. We're on the south side.”

“Bird Dog Two, is there a street where you can you make a right turn if they get too close?”

“Affirmative.”

“If they get close, make the right, get away. It's imperative that they don't see you.”

“Affirmative.”

When Sascha neared the spot where Tony Balls was gazing into the hardware store, it appeared as if he was going to pass right by the store. At that moment, Tony Balls turned and began to walk in the same direction as Sascha. They were almost side-by-side. Suddenly, Sascha turned and walked back toward Romanoff's. Tony Balls didn't turn, but stopped, kneeling to tie his shoe-lace. He then stood, walked to the next corner, and made a right turn into the side street, walking away from Brighton Beach Avenue.

“Mother Hen, Bird Dog Two. Something funny just happened.” Bird Dog Two described what they had just observed.

“Did they talk to each other, Bird Dog Two?”

“They might have, Mother Hen. Couldn't say for sure.”

“Do you still have Tony Balls in view?”

“Negative. He turned right into the side street.”

“Bird Dog One, you're still facing the west?”

“Affirmative.”

“Go after Tony Balls. See if you can see where he is.”

“Apprehend him, Mother Hen?”

“Negative, definitely negative on that. Just see if you can get a bead on him, follow him. Bird Dog Two, you stay on Brown Jacket.”

“Brown Jacket is going back into Romanoff's, Mother Hen.”

By the time Bird Dog One made the turn into the side street, Tony Balls had apparently entered a car and left the area. Bird Dog One rounded the block in an attempt to find Tony Balls, but was unable to do so.

“
Sschhhh
… a night.…
sschhhh
,” came over Becker's radio.

“Mother Hen, the C.I. has just come out onto the sidewalk with the driver of the Lexus.”

“How you going to get home,” Uri said to Nichols. The transmission was clear now. “You got a car?”

“No, I came with a car service.”

“I'll drive you. Get my keys,” Uri said to the parking attendant.

“Are you kidding? First of all, you're with the ladies. And, second of all, you're wasted.”

“You think I can't drive like this?” asked Uri.

“You can hardly stand up.”

“I don't stand when I drive.” Uri started to laugh loudly.

“No, man, really, let me take a car service. I want you to stay here, get laid, all that. Stay and have a good time.”

“You sure?”

“Sure. I'll get a car service. Can they call from inside?”

“Yes, wait. I will have them call,” said Uri.

“I'm going to take car service,” Nichols said into the night air, as he faced the street, with his back to the restaurant.

“Smart little druggie,” Becker said to himself.

“Follow the car service for a few blocks, and then I'll get out and come with you,” said Nichols.

“I have them call,” Uri said into Nichols' transmitter. “I wait with you.”

“Great, man, great.”

“You have a good time?” said Uri.

“Fabulous. Next time, get three ladies.”

“You want this one, take her,” said Uri with a wave of his hand.

“No, man, not tonight. That's yours. Get me another one.”

“Okay, next time.”

In a few minutes, a livery car pulled up in front of the restaurant. Uri gave Nichols a couple of embraces, and they said goodnight. Nichols entered the vehicle. It started toward Ocean Parkway.

“Bird Dogs, Mother Hen is going to follow the car service. Stay on the Brown Jacket and the others. Follow them—discretely. Advise me.”

“Roger,” said the two Bird Dogs.

Becker turned right at Ocean Parkway and followed a half-block behind the car service vehicle. On Avenue R, Nichols had the car service driver pull to the curb. When the car service vehicle turned the next corner and disappeared, Becker pulled to the curb and picked up Nichols.

“Do you still doubt me?” Nichols said to Becker as they drove back toward Manhattan along an almost deserted Ocean Parkway.

“We have a bit more than we had before, that's for sure,” said Becker.
And we also have something we didn't have before: Mr. Tony Balls
, he thought to himself.

“More? Shit, you have three couriers carrying heroin, being picked up by their Boss. You got everything that I said inside that joint; Russian drug route, couriers, the whole nine yards. How come you didn't swoop them up?”

“I can swoop up those four fish any time,” said Becker. “Immigration has all their information, passports, addresses, all they need. The reason I didn't swoop them up is that it would be premature. I want to follow that stuff to every dirty little Russian that touches, buys, sells, and injects that poison. What I want to know is what you were talking about inside with Uri. The transmission was garbled.”

“You didn't get everything I was saying with him?”

“Listen.” Becker rewound the recorder and let it play out through the loud speakers. There was nothing but squawks, static, and an occasional word.

“That's all you got?”

“What were you talking about?” said Becker.

“What we talked about—” said Nichols, thinking. “What we talked about was that I told him I needed more. That things were good. He said that if things were good with me, things were good with him. He said he'd send couriers—different couriers—out this week. We talked about how maybe we needed at least one trip a week. He said he thought that we could stash plenty of kilos in a safe-house in a couple of months.”

“You've answered your own question why I didn't swoop them up, even though I'm sure they were carrying drugs. I'd rather follow them to every person that's doing business with this renegade drug-ring. We bide our time, we'll get all of them.”

“I learned another thing,” said Nichols.

“What's that?”

“These guys are madmen. I told Uri that Red Hardie is still the boss of The Brotherhood, even though he's in jail, that he was keeping us from really making big bucks. You know what he said?”

“Tell me.”

“He said if I could find out where he was, if they could get at him, they'd get rid of him for good,” said Nichols, “so we could take over the whole operation.”

“Who's we?”

“Not you and me,” Nichols laughed. “Me and Uri. The Russians will do a job on Red if they get half a chance. After that, you take the Russians down, and the whole drug business in New York will be right in our laps. The Brotherhood will be on top of the drug market, and through me, you'll be on top of The Brotherhood. Drugs keep going, under control, you guys keep doing your thing, under control. Very sweet, don't you think?”