Green Light (Sam Archer 7) (39 page)

‘
He’s on the take, sir. I know it.’

Pause.

‘
Jesus Christ. I’ll put the word out. I hope you’re not wrong
about this, otherwise we’ll both be working at McDonalds by the end
of the week.’

‘
I’m sure.’

Stay right where you are. We’re on our way.’

‘
Got it,’ Archer said, ending the call and looking at April,
who’d heard everything he’d said.

‘
The Lieutenant?’

Archer
nodded. As April stared at him, Archer realised that Henderson
would definitely have been in touch with Royston recently,
otherwise they never could have known he and April were on their
way here.

He tapped into the phone’s
Call
History
, and saw a number showing up
repeatedly, several calls having been made tonight, the last less
than an hour ago.

Selecting it, Archer lifted the phone to his ear. If Royston
answered, it was proof Archer was right.

‘
C’mon, fat boy,’
he muttered as the
call rang.
‘Pick up the phone.’

Across
the city, Marquez was driving through Manhattan, heading after
Shepherd and Hendricks and having just picked up Palmer on the way.
When the detectives had left the Bureau for Little Odessa, Theresa
had gone into the city to pursue a lead, but had called Marquez
asking her to pick her up so she could re-join the
investigation.

In the
quiet of the car, Palmer’s phone started to ring. Expecting an
update from her people, she answered.

‘
Hello?’

At the
safe-house, standing beside Henderson’s body, Archer froze in
disbelief.

Sitting
beside Marquez, Palmer held the phone to her ear.

Listening.

Thinking.

‘
OK, got it,’ she said, ending the call and pocketing the
phone.

‘
Everything OK?’ Marquez asked.

‘
No.’ She looked at the female detective. ‘Not at
all.’

‘
What are you talking about?’

‘
Pull over for a second. We need to talk.’

At the
safe-house, Archer still hadn’t moved.

Because
his call hadn’t ended yet.

‘
Answer me, Dean. Do you have the bitch and Archer?’
the female voice repeated
. ‘I just took care of Bashev. He’s gone.’

Archer
didn’t make a sound, unable to believe what he was
hearing.

Who he
was hearing.

‘
Nicolas?’
Karen Casey
repeated.
‘Are Archer and April dead
yet?’

FORTY SEVEN

Standing in the sitting room of her 19
^th
Street East Village
apartment, Karen Casey stopped pacing for a moment, her phone
clamped to her ear.

‘
Nic? Talk to me.’

‘
He’s next door,’
Henderson finally
replied, his voice sounding slightly strange, almost hoarse.
‘He’s gone.’

‘
The girl?’

‘
She’s still alive.’

‘
We’re running out of time,’ she said, looking around her
apartment. ‘Lye him and bring her with you. We’re out of
here.’

‘
OK. Where should we meet?’

‘
Where do you think?’ She frowned. ‘You OK? You don’t sound
right.’

‘
Throat’s a bit sore, that’s all. The chemicals.’

‘
Whatever. Get moving. I’ll see you at the docks.’

With
that Karen hung up, looking around what had been her home for the
past year, her late husband almost finished dissolving in the tub
and his blood scrubbed away then bleached off the floor.

Her real
name wasn’t Karen Casey; it was Sasha Bilic. She’d grown up in
Moscow but had paid all the money she could scrape together for a
passage to the United States seventeen years ago, seeking a
different life. She’d been brought in to the New York docks with a
load of other young women, but instead of the bright new future
they’d hoped for, they were immediately shunted into the sex trade,
no documents, no passports; disappearing without trace.

However,
Sasha had known that was what was likely to happen and she’d been
prepared. That first night, she’d killed her first client, taking
the four hundred dollars she’d found in his wallet and then making
her escape. That was how she’d made money her first year; she
capitalised on her good looks, pretended to be an escort, lured
someone to a motel room and then pulled a weapon, robbing them.
What were they going to do, go to the cops and tell them they’d
been fleeced by a hooker?

She’d
zig-zagged her way to Pittsburgh doing the same kind of shit,
searching for an opportunity when suddenly, fate had intervened;
she’d held up a client and taken his money, but this time she’d
been tracked down. However, the guy who found her wasn’t after
retribution. Instead, he’d wanted to make use of her. That man had
been her client’s boss and her late husband, Vladimir
Bashev.

And he’d
offered her a job.

It turned out Vladimir was a member of the
Prizraki
, an organisation with
considerable prestige among the Red Mafia underworld. He’d been
sent to Pittsburgh from Baltimore with a handful of men to stake
their claim in the city. The FBI had destroyed Mafia presence in
Pittsburgh a year or so earlier and the
Prizraki
were ready to fill the gap
they’d left.

However, they weren’t the only gang making moves. One of the
major steel mills was being used as cover for a big trafficking
operation by the
Suki
, a rival Russian gang. Bashev had lost two of his best guys
to them already, and he knew he had to assert his authority and
fast. He was also aware his Pittsburgh operation was being watched
by the bosses in Moscow and he needed to impress them. Taking over
that lucrative steel mill operation would achieve that.

Female involvement in Russian gangs was almost unheard of, a
fact Bashev decided he could make work for him. The
Suki
would never guess
that Sasha could be
Prizraki.

So she’d
become a hit-girl for the Russian Mafia.

In the eight years she’d worked for the gang, Sasha had either
killed or assisted in the death of twenty three
Suki
; as cover, she adopted the name
Karen Casey, using a
Prizraki
contact with Bashev’s help to create an entire set
of fake documents, including a social security number, DMV profile
and birth certificate. Pittsburgh PD had no idea what was taking
place right under their noses and the FBI had moved on, considering
their work in the city done now they’d eradicated the Mafia
presence. Or so they’d thought. The bodies of Sasha’s victims were
never found, buried deep in unmarked graves, most of them still
alive when they were put into the coffins; the
Prizraki
tradition.

Karen’s big moment had been when she’d taken out the head of
the
Suki
. Her
fellow
Prizraki
had realised she was the only one of them who stood any chance
of getting close to him and even then it had been a massive
challenge with enormous risks. However, she’d shown her commitment
to the cause, befriending one of the
Suki
member’s girlfriends and slowly
infiltrating the gang. She’d gradually built up their trust,
becoming a familiar face, her good looks helping her ease her way
in. Then she made the ultimate commitment, getting several
Suki
tattoos, all of
which helped admit her into the heart of their club on the
South-Side where she was given a job as a waitress. That place was
the centre of their operation and finally, after many months, she
had access to the old man.

As soon as she killed him and back-up took care of the rest,
the
Prizraki
had
quickly moved in and seized the steel mill trafficking operation.
Although Karen’s services were then no longer needed, she’d earned
enormous respect by then, her dedication and ruthlessness
acknowledged by all the men around her. She was also romantically
involved with Bashev by the end of the
Suki
operation, and with his help had
turned her attention to the trafficking side of the business; she
started cherry-picking the very best of the girls that came in
through the mill and put them to work in the city, making a huge
amount of money very quickly from her high class escort service.
The relationship between Vladimir and Karen had intensified and
they were granted permission to get married, only allowed due to
Bashev’s status in the organisation.

However,
Vladimir had baggage, a kid from a previous relationship who he’d
neither wanted nor cared about but had been forced to house after
her mother had died. Leann was as quiet as a mouse and no trouble,
the only reason he still kept her around, but he’d gladly handed
over the responsibility of her upbringing to Karen, who’d quickly
spotted her potential. She’d forced the little bitch to work in her
business as soon as Leann reached her fifteenth birthday. Vladimir
hadn’t objected but was adamant the cops’ attention didn’t swing
onto him in case she got busted, so Leann Bashev became Leann
Casey.

Life had
been very, very good. They lived in a great house, had money
rolling in and everything was going well.

Then
December last year had rolled around.

It had
started like any other. Karen had arrived home, dropped her bag and
went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine. She’d walked into the
sitting room to see her husband standing there looking at her. He
hadn’t said anything, which she’d thought was odd. Unlike his
daughter, Bashev was a talker.

Before
she could speak, something had hit her hard over the side of the
head, knocking her to the floor. She’d woken up some time later in
total darkness, hardly able to move. It smelt stale and dank, and
was strangely quiet. As she’d moved her head and opened her eyes,
her heart started to pound with fear and confusion as she gradually
orientated herself and realised what her husband had
done.

He’d
buried her alive.

Inside
the safe-house, Archer hung up quietly, staring at the
phone.

‘
What’s wrong?’ April asked.

‘
It’s Karen,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s Karen Casey.’

‘
What are you talking about?’

‘
It’s Karen Casey. That was her answering the phone. She was
asking if you and I were dead yet.’

‘
Karen? It can’t be. She’s Leann’s mother.’

Putting
the phone down, Archer thought for a moment, looking over at
Henderson. The dead man was lying on his back but in their fight,
his sweater had ridden up.

And
Archer could see the edge of a tattoo.

Moving
over, he pulled it up, looking at the man’s skin. As he looked, he
suddenly had a flashback three days earlier to Karen Casey’s
apartment. When she’d been making some tea for him, she’d reached
up to take a cup out of a cupboard and he’d caught a glimpse of a
tattoo on her lower back.

Henderson had an identical one on his chest.

Hauling
the sweater right up, Archer saw he also had two stars on his
shoulders. Taking the man’s phone, he snapped a photo of the tattoo
then messaged it to Ethan’s email at the Bureau, calling him as
soon as he’d sent it. While he waited for Ethan to answer, things
started to drop into place.

Leann’s
arrival in the city last year with her mother; members of the
Russian gang starting to disappear around the same time. Leann
trying to escape from her life of prostitution.

Archer’s
arrest on Friday, just after he finished talking to
Karen.

Henderson and Tully showing up on the Upper East Side bar to
get April, minutes after she’d called Karen asking for
help.

The
Prizraki
have only lost one man in the past few years,
Hendricks had said earlier.

Their top guy.

‘
Arch?’

‘
I just sent you a photo,’ he said. ‘It’s of a tattoo on
Henderson’s chest. I need you to find out what gang it’s
from.’

‘
Wait.’
Pause.
‘I know that already.’

‘
How?’

‘
Massaro sent over a Russian Mafia file earlier for a point of
reference. That’s a gang tattoo from a crew called
the Suki.
It means
bitches, literally, in Russian.’

‘
That’s their gang name?’

‘
Apparently it was given to them after the Second World War.
When the Soviet Union needed more men on the frontline during the
war, Stalin offered a pardon for any prisoner who fought. A load
stepped up but then Stalin went back on his word once the fighting
was over. These guys were thrown back into their cells; the guys
who hadn’t fought, following the strict Thieves Law of not joining
the military, dubbed them bitches, or
Suki
. I guess these guys kept the
name.’