Dying for the Past (29 page)

sixty-one

At the bottom of
the Carriage House passage stairs and the tunnel entrance, Angel flipped on a flashlight application on her cell phone.

“Stay close, André, remember she has a gun.”

“Then keep your flashlight low, too. It's a target down here.”

“Good point. But it's too dark to see without it.”

“Angel, I'll go up ahead. Move slow and be ready to get back if I
yell.”

I ran down the tunnel but found no one ahead of us. I reached the hub where the tunnels converged and called for Angel and
André. When they caught up, I said, “I don't know where she went so let's
go to the antechamber at the end and see if she went through into the basement.”

“All right. We'll need Bear's help searching the rest of the tunnels. She could be anywhere.”

André leaned back against the wall. His voice was shallow and sad. “I'm sorry, Angela. I tried to help but made a mess of this. I killed Chevez. Dear God what have I done?”

“Chevy's alive, André,” Angel said. “Let's find Bonnie and get the book. Bear will sort the rest out after. Focus on Bonnie and the book.”

His face fell. “Yes, of course. The book will prove everything I've said is true.”

“It better,” I said. “Or there are a lot of dead bodies for noth
ing.”

Angel nodded, patted André on the shoulder, then led him to the antechamber.

We made it without finding any sign of Bonnie. But when we
reached the chamber, André pulled Angel behind him and stopped.

The door through the basement storage racks was open.

“Wait, Angela. Bonnie could be waiting inside. Stay here—”

A shot cracked and the bullet slammed into the stone wall beside André.

Bonnie stepped out of the darkness behind us. Her gun was level with Angel's chest. “Don't either of you move. I mean it. I'll shoot.”

“Bonnie, no! Calm down.” Angel held up a hand. “Let's get Bear and sort this out.”

“No. I'm gonna get my money and run.” Bonnie sidestepped us and moved to block our escape into the basement. “Move away. I don't know who to trust—but I know it's not you. Just stay away.” She jutted her gun toward Angel and cocked the hammer. “Get back.”

André shoved Angel onto the floor and lunged for Bonnie.

“No, André, don't!” I yelled.

A shot erupted.

Bonnie stood there, gun wavering between Angel and André. Her eyes were as big as the red blossom in her shoulder. Her mouth quivered—unspoken words—and she dropped to the stone floor.

We all looked back.

Special Agent Jim Dobron—aka Dmitry Alexandrovich Dobronranov—stepped into the antechamber from the tunnel behind us. His gun was still aimed at Bonnie lying at my feet.

sixty-two

“Are you two all
right?” Dobron asked. “I was afraid
—”

“We're fine.” Angel dropped down beside Bonnie and checked her pulse. “She's alive. We have to get a doctor.”

“Angela, come over here,” André said. “Get behind me.”

Angel looked over at Dobron. Her voice was icy. “Call an ambulance, Dobron.”

“There's one upstairs for Chevez. I'll get someone down here.” Dobron lifted his cell phone. “No signal. I'll have to go back—”

“Jim, put your gun down. It's over.” Ruth-Ann Marcos said from the cellar entranceway. “Put it down, Jim.” She stepped into the chamber with Bear behind her.

Bear had his gun trained on Dobron.

“What are you doing?” Dobron looked from Ruth-Ann to Bear. “Detective, get your gun off me. I'm not asking.”

Bear shook his head. “Drop your weapon.”

Spence appeared beside Bear. His gun was aimed at Dobron, too. “One of us will get you. So put it down.”

I said, “Thank God, Bear. Where have you been?”

Bear glanced at Angel. “Angela, you and André step back. Dobron, I told you to drop your gun.”

Dobron's face tightened and his eyes went black. “All right, Detective, we'll do this your way—for now.” He slid his handgun into the holster on his hip. “Bonnie was about to shoot Professor Tucker and Cartier. I shot her. She needs an ambulance.”

“Bear,” Angel said. “André shot Chevy—it was self-defense, I'm sure. Chevy stole the book from him and Agent Dobron—”

“André, you have the book? Good.” Ruth-Ann turned to Bear. “Get an ambulance team down here. The rest can wait.”

Bear issued orders into a radio but never took his gun off Dobron.

“Ruth-Ann, please,” André said, “tell them about me. They don't believe me.”

All eyes fell to Ruth-Ann. I said, “Yes, Ruth-Ann, tell us.”

“Of course,” she said with a strange, cocky smile. “André has been working with me at Justice—to make a case against Dobron. I learned Stephanos was searching for the book for Dobron. Dobron wanted to turn it over to the Russian Mob. Bonnie's relationship with André gave me my chance to trap him once and for all.”

“Agent Dobron?” Angel asked. “You're sure?”

“Yes, Angela, very. And the book may very well prove it.” Ruth-Ann walked over to Bonnie's still form, stooped, and pulled the
book from her pocket. “And we have it after all this time.” She nodded to Bear. “Detective, André has been working under my authority
. We'll sort out what he may or may not have done later. I'm sure we can reach a mutual accommodation.”

Dobron tried to step forward but Bear's gun stopped him. “What are you accusing me of, Ruth-Ann?”

“Oh, please, Jim. You've been working for Anatoly Konstanti
nova. Once Grecco found the book—you'd give it to Anatoly. Whe
n Grecco decided on a different deal, you had him killed.”

“Bullshit!” Dobron's face flashed rage and he jumped forward. “You lying—”

Bear and Spence grabbed him and pushed him against the ante-
chamber wall. Spence pulled Dobron's gun from its holster and Bear
held his on target. “Don't move again, Dobron. Let's all get upstairs and talk this out.”

An ambulance crew called out from the cellar and Spence left and brought them into the antechamber where they went to work on Bonnie Grecco.

“Yes, let's go chat, Jim.” Ruth-Ann looked at Dobron and smiled
. “Isn't it odd, Detective Braddock, how Agent Dobron is alone here today?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” Bear pointed into the cellar. “Spence, take him up and make sure he doesn't get lost.”

“Sure, Bear.” Spence shoved Dobron into the cellar room and followed.

We all went upstairs to the lounge. Dobron slumped into one of the chairs around a playing table. Spence sat behind him. Angel and André settled on two bar stools and Ruth-Ann stood in the doorway talking on her phone.

Me, I stood by the bar watching the show. “Bear, how's Chevy?”

“Chevy's gonna make it. He's on the way to the hospital—still unconscious but he'll pull through.”

“Good, another witness.” Ruth-Ann closed her phone. “I've got one of my men waiting at the hospital. I don't want any of Dobron's men there, Detective. Understand?”

Bear shrugged. “Sure, I'll have my—”

“Just my men. Chevez is a federal witness. I'm not losing another one.”

“Another one?” Angel asked.

Ruth-Ann walked over to Dobron. “Do you want to explain Katalina Kishkin or shall I, Jim?”

Dobron didn't blink.

“Have it your way.” Ruth-Ann went to the bar and leaned back against it. “Katalina Kishkin was an insider in Anatoly Nikolaevich Konstantinova's organization. She was family—related by marriage to Petya Chernyshov. Petya was a low-level thug for Anatoly's gang.”

“Kishkin?” The pieces started to fall into place. “Angel, Kishkin—”

“I remember,” Angel said. “Vasily Kishkin killed Vincent Calaprese decades ago. He's where all this started.”

“Vasily Kishkin killed the old mobster?” Ruth-Ann forced a laugh. “Vasily wasn't so bad after all.”

“Ruth-Ann,” Bear said, “tell us the rest.”

She did. “Katalina worked for Anatoly but she got cold feet and went to Dobron's people. She wanted out of the Russian mob and wanted into WITSEC. She didn't know Dobron was working for Anatoly.”

I whispered to Angel, “She means witness protection.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded.

“Anatoly was onto her. I can only imagine who reported her, right Jim? Katalina disappeared. I believe she's under Nicholas Bartalotta's protection as we speak.”

“Nicholas?” Angel asked. “Ruth-Ann, is this what your problem with me has been? You thought I knew?”

“Yes, Angela. I'm sorry, but I felt you were complicit in this from the beginning. Knowingly or not.”

André gestured to Dobron. “Dobron was trying to find her and kill her, Angela. Ruth-Ann was trying to save her.”

“Yes,” Ruth-Ann glared at Dobron. “As I said before, every case I've had against Anatoly has gone bad. Dobron made sure. Katalina doesn't even know who betrayed her. But it was Dobron.”

“Screw you, Ruth-Ann,” Dobron growled. “My team is solid. Is yours?”

“We'll soon find out, won't we?” She waved toward the door and a dark-suited man—one I recognized from Ruth-Ann's entourage at Poor Nic's place—walked in with Jack, the man in our bushes last night. “I have a warrant for you, Jim. My men will escort you to the WFO. I've spoken with the Director personally. They're looking forward to seeing you.”

“Ruth-Ann, wait.” Angel raised a hand. “He did save our lives. It must count for—”

“Nothing, Angela. He silenced another witness against him. That's all he did.”

André said, “Angela, he'd already killed Stephanos and the others. Bonnie was the last link to him.”

“I didn't murder anyone.” Dobron snapped. “Stephanos was going to turn the book over for a deal—for he and Bonnie. We do it all the time; information for a deal.”

“And you say Grecco was making a deal?” Ruth-Ann folded her arms. “My office would have to know about such a deal—and there's no record of one. The only deal you were making was with Anatoly.”

“Screw you.” Dobron stood up and poked holes in the air between them with his gun-finger. “This is all lies, lady.”

Ruth-Ann handed the book to one of her men. “Agent Michaels, Agent Cary, please take him into custody.”

The two headed for Dobron. Michaels said, “You're under arrest.”

“Screw you, too.” Dobron lunged forward, landing a hard right-cross into Michael's jaw and sending him to the floor. He swung a wild left at Cary but it never collided. Cary stepped in, blocked the punch, and delivered a crushing jab to Dobron's chin. Cary followed it with a second, powerful punch to his stomach—collapsing Dobron in half. Then, the struggle ended when Cary's knee drove into Dobron's face and he collapsed onto the floor.

Both men descended on Dobron, grappled his arms behind him, and used his own handcuffs to restrain him. They had him back on his feet clutched between them in seconds.

“Dammit, let me go.” Dobron tried to twist free but couldn't. “Ruth-Ann, I'll—”

“Save it, Jim. Don't add threatening a federal officer to the charges.”

Ruth-Ann's men escorted him from the room.

I said, “Holy crap, Angel. I never saw this coming.”

She shook her head. “Neither did I.”

Ruth-Ann shot her a sideways look and walked over to Bear.
She extended her hand. “Detective, I had my doubts about you, but
you've been an invaluable asset. I'll pass along my congratulations to Captain Sutter.”

Bear nodded. “Thanks. What about—”

“I'm sealing this case, Detective. You'll be called as a witness—all of you. But all facts and evidence relative to Stephanos Grecco, Anatoly Konstantinova, and Frannie Masseria will be under a gag order. It's all classified as of this moment.” She walked to the lounge door and turned around. “André, you'll need to come with me. I'll need to debrief you.”

André looked at Angel and shrugged. “I don't know what to say. I, well, I'll explain the rest when this is over. I'll call as soon as I can. I'm so sorry I've lied to you.”

And without another word he strode out the door behind Ruth-Ann Marcos.

sixty-three

As Bear called Captain
Sutter and a crime scene team, Angel sat at the bar. Her head was shaking as she tried to make sense out of all the events unfolding. I wasn't much help so I went looking for Vincent again.

I followed Benny Goodman's
And the Angels Sing
to the dining room and found Vincent gazing at the portrait of Frannie Masseria.

“My Frannie was a good girl, Oliver. You would have liked her.”

“I'm sure, Vincent. I have some questions.”

Woof. Hercule bounded into the room following Doc as he walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Questions later, Oliver. For now, just listen.” He turned, stone-faced, and looked at Vincent.

“Hello, Vincent.”

Vincent walked up to him and without a word, threw his arms around him in a long, emotional bear hug. The two stood there, embracing in a silent, long-ago moment. After a few more moments, Vincent released him and stood face-to-face holding his shoulders.

“Benjamin, it has been too long. Why haven't you come to see me?”

Doc's eyes were filled with tears. “It was my fault, Vincent. Mine. Our kids were crazy in love and I almost kept them apart. All because of your book. It took your life and I couldn't save you. I was terrified it would take theirs, too—I am so very sorry.”

Vincent patted his shoulders. “It took your life, too, my friend. And many others.”

Huh? “Hold on there, Vincent. Rewind a little. Doc was killed over the book? And who else—”

“Me.” Sassy sashayed into the room and threw an arm around
me. “Hi ya, Tuckie. Good to see the old boys together again, ain't it?”

Was it? “Someone tell me what's going on.”

She did. “Them Commies came for the book a few months after Vincent died. They busted in and tore this place apart. I was hiding upstairs in our secret place—you know—in the attic. I came down too soon and they nabbed me. They tried to make me talk but I wouldn't. Like I told you, I ain't no snitch.”

Doc went to her, kissed her cheek, and wrapped old, tired arms
around her. “I'm so sorry, Sassy. You didn't deserve what happened.
You weren't involved in any of this.”

“Nope, I wasn't. Lousy commies.” She kissed him hard on the mouth. “But it's okay. It's a long time ago and it saved Frannie and Ollie—for a while. So what the heck, right?”

“I too am sorry, Doc.” Vincent patted Doc on the back. “The book was to protect us all­—but it couldn't save you.”

“Doc?” I asked. “Don't leave me hanging.”

He looked at me and his eyes were lost in bad memories and hard times. “Your grandfather—Ollie—was a war hero. He came back and married Frannie. By then, using the book, she had built up enough of an empire to keep the hounds—and Vasily—away. She and Ollie were safe.”

“But not you.” Sassy kissed him on the cheek again. “Commies wanted revenge. They figured out who Doc was after a while. Frannie tried to keep them away but she couldn't. The book protected her and Ollie and your father, Tuckie. But not everyone.”

Doc lowered his head.

“It took them years but they got their revenge,” Vincent said. “The battles went on year after year and they lost most of them. Then, after some shenanigans in the fifties, they made a move on Frannie. But their plan failed and they got beaten even harder. In retaliation, they hit Doc instead.”

Hercule came over and woofed at the three of them. He stood there, wagging and moaning up a storm until Sassy knelt down and rubbed his ears. Herc had a way with beautiful women—dead or alive.

I just stood there, trying to grasp it all. Each of them had died—horrible deaths—because of the damn book. But as much as it took away, it had saved my grandparents—at least for a while— and my father.

I asked, “Tell me about my dad. Tell me about Frannie and Ollie, too.”

“Another time, Oliver.” Doc knelt down beside Sassy and gave Hercule a good head-rub. “You're not done, Oliver. Vasily Kishkin's heirs are about to exploit the book—they finally have it after all these years. And it is more dangerous than ever.”

What? “No, Doc. Bonnie's in custody—maybe dead. Dobron is in custody, too, and the Justice Department has the book. Who's left?”

“Who's left?” Vincent's voice boomed. “The killer, Oliver.”

Oh, no. “You can't mean—”

Doc nodded to me. “How could you miss it, Oliver? It's right there in front of you. A Cuban family owned Quixote's—they were the first of the socialists who came here in the thirties.”

“Cubans? So what do the Cubans have to do with—”

Vincent raised a hand. “Vasily Kishkin was a Soviet agent who used Quixote's as a hideout. His sister worked at the restaurant, too, and had a crush on the owner's son. They married. They created a very dangerous and ruthless alliance when the Soviets befriended the dictator, Fidel, years later.”

I knew where this was going. “Come on, how was I supposed to know all the history? You could have told me that days ago.”

“Ah, yes, perhaps we're being hard on you, Oliver,” Doc said. “All right then. Vasily's sister and the Cuban boy had a child. Their child started a long family line of spies and gangsters who still exist today.”

Sassy stood and linked her arm with mine.
old,
“Tuckie, you'll never guess whose family owned Quixote's.”

Yes, I can. “Ruth-Ann Marcos'.”