Requiem For a Glass Heart (45 page)

“J
ERNIGAN!
J
ERNIGAN!”
H
AIN WAS SHOUTING INTO THE RADIO.
Everyone in the off-site was gaping at him. All of them had stood up instinctively, unable to remain in their seats when Cate’s signal blacked out.

“I don’t know … I don’t know,” Jernigan was saying.

“She was in the elevator,” Hain was shouting. “They were walking into Krupatin’s place. What happened?”

“Man, I’ve got a flat line on her signal. That’s all.” Jernigan’s voice was not calm.

“Both of them? Nothing from the transmitter?”

“Nothing—just nothing.”

“What does that mean, Curtis?” It was Ennis Strey, in the field office tech room.

“Jesus, I don’t know. Neil, get Geller on the telephone, find out what this could be.”

“We’ve got to get somebody over there,” Ann snapped, one hand on her hip, one nervously combing back her thick, wiry hair. “We—Strey, you have people you can get over there?”

“That’s Jernigan’s call, but sure, we’ve got them.”

“Just a goddamn minute,” Hain barked. “We don’t know what’s going down here—”

“Exactly the damn point,” Ann said.

“—and I’m not going to shove people in there before I can tell if the signal’s glitched for some electronic reason that hasn’t got anything to do with—”

“Curtis,” Erika said, walking around the end of the table, “she’s right. It sounded to me as if Irina had been lying to Krupatin about Cate. Gate did not know this. I think Ann is right, was right before. I think Irina is going to kill him.”

“Well, I don’t read it that way!” Hain shouted. “He took the goddamn gun away from her.”

“Anything could happen,” Erika persisted.

“We’re going to
wait”—
Hain pointed his finger at Ann across the table, furious—“until we hear from Geller.” There was a sudden silence. “You people aren’t being professional here—get a grip!” His face was livid.

“How many stories are in the building?” Ometov asked calmly. He was rubbing his forehead, looking down, thinking.

“Twenty-five,” someone said. “This is Parmley. Neil’s on another line, trying to get Geller. The computer tells us it’s a condominium complex, three separate buildings called the Amberson Towers. There’s twenty-five floors in each of the towers.”

“And if I remember what Mr. Geller said, your computer cannot tell us what floor she is on.”

“That’s right.”

Everyone knew what he was getting at. Even if they sent a SWAT team over there now, there was going to be a frustrating delay while they located Krupatin’s residence. Everyone was making the assumption that the condo was not listed under his name, that he had not made it easy for them to find him.

There was another silence while everyone looked at Curtis Hain, who was fuming, standing facing the others like an old lion backed up against a rock.

“Curt.” It was Ennis Strey. He wanted an answer. The right answer.

It was another moment before Hain began to shake his head in defeat.

“Okay, Parmley, dammit. Tell Jernigan to go ahead with the SWAT team. But you tell him, by God, that I … want … it …
quiet.
And if it’s not, tell him I’ll dedicate the
rest of my fucking career to memorizing the names of the jerks who screwed this up.”

Nobody had ever forgotten that Curtis Hain worked out of the Washington office. And he had been there a long time. There were three beats of silence before Parmley responded.

“I’ll tell him that, sir.”

“R
OTTING FROM THE INSIDE
…” K
RUPATIN NODDED, LOOKING
down, frowning as if pondering the gravity of this news. But his manner was disingenuous and patently obvious. He was mocking her. Cate glanced at Irina, who was well aware of Krupatin’s contemptuous game; she was staring at him, rigid with humiliation and animus.

Krupatin looked up. “Irina, you can be such a fucking stupid cow,” he said. “I really do not know how you have survived all these years, mooing your way from one death to another. How have you avoided your own for so long?”

Irina seemed speechless. She stood with her arms hanging down at her side like a schoolgirl before the headmaster, frozen with embarrassment and resentment.

Krupatin took a step toward her, one hand stuffed casually into his pocket as though he were at a cocktail party, the other holding his drink. His arrogance was insulting and provocative.

“Have you yet to puzzle out this episode in America?” He looked at Cate, then returned his eyes to Irina. “Valentin Stepanov is an informer for the FBI. I know this. Grigori Izvarin has been stabbing me in the back for too long. He has nasty ambitions. I know this too.” He sipped his drink. “You
did not mention Valery Volkov.” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “No?”

Irina said nothing.

Krupatin took another step forward but turned his attention to Cate.

“What happened?” he asked. “Did Valentin moan his traitorous dreams while he was squirming on your belly? And you squealed to your girlfriend here? Money? You want money? You open your legs, and you want money. You open your mouth, and you want money.”

“Sergei, please.”

Krupatin spun around angrily, his teeth bared, prepared to unleash his fury on Irina. But even while he was still in the motion of turning he saw her outstretched arm, saw what was about to happen, and shouted, flinging up his arms to his face, twisting himself away and backward, gasping, coughing, roaring.

Irina was in motion too, lunging for the table where her SIG-Sauer lay, snatching it up without stopping, pursuing Krupatin’s retreat like a spider scuttling to take advantage of an entangled fly.

“Goddamn! Goddamn … damn …” Krupatin was rolling on the floor, getting to his knees, fumbling his way past the liquor cabinet, knocking off bottles, flinging open a closet door to a wet-bar sink, plunging his face under the tall faucet as he turned on the gushing water. He was grunting, swearing, coughing, spitting.

Irina was suddenly against him, the silencer of the pistol pressed into the side of his head, water splashing all over both of them. She was trembling, grimacing. Krupatin froze, realizing what she was pushing into his temple. Cate braced herself for the shot. Nothing happened. The sound of the water was the only sound. No one moved. Krupatin was bent over, his head turned sideways, his eyes blinking wildly to get the water and whatever it was she had sprayed out of them.

All of them realized at the same moment that the spray had not gotten into his eyes, that he had blinked and ducked in time and most of the spray had hit his arms and head.

Unexpectedly, Irina shoved herself away from him, as if he were a leper, and backed away, out of his reach. He was gasping for breath as she felt behind her without turning around, not wanting to take her eyes off him for an instant.
Krupatin, still bent over the sink, seemed to be taking refuge under the rush of water, gathering his thoughts.

“Stay away from him,” Irina said to Gate. “Get over here by me.”

Both women backed away from the broken bottles near the liquor cabinet, moving into the middle of the room.

“I’m burning up,” Cate said. “I feel like I’m on fire. I’m hot, burning up.”.

“Relax,” Irina said. She was panting. “Take deep breaths.”

Nothing was said for a moment as the two women watched Krupatin as if he were a stunned wolf, expecting him at any moment to wail and turn and lunge at them. But he didn’t. Finally he turned off the water, groped around on the cabinet until he found a hand towel, and put it to his face. Slowly he turned around and leaned back against the sink.

“I want to sit down,” he said through the towel.

Irina hesitated. “Go,” she said.

Krupatin, dabbing at his face, made his way past the broken bottles to one of two sofas that sat at right angles to the view of the city, a coffee table between them. He sat down heavily and took a moment to catch his breath. Irina moved over behind the opposite sofa, keeping it and the coffee table between her and Krupatin.

“You stupid cow,” he said, sniffling, looking up at her. “You have made the biggest mistake of your life.”

Irina was more collected now. And she was focused.

“No, Sergei. I am a fortunate woman.”

He shook his head. “You live a fucked-up life. You always have, and that will never change. It’s your fate.”

“I am fortunate because I have lived long enough to see the end of you. This fate of mine, Sergei, is also yours. We have come to this together. You have made me what I am, and in doing so you have created your own death.”

“Look,” Krupatin said wearily, “if you are going to shoot me, then go ahead and do it. I don’t want to hang around to hear your philosophy.”

Irina shook her head. “First you are going to get a short education.”

“Wonderful,” he said sourly. His hair was in disarray, his suit splashed with water and rumpled.

“I’m burning up,” Cate said. “Jesus, it’s hot in here.”

“What the hell is she babbling about?” Krupatin glared at her. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at his suit coat to straighten it.

“Earlier tonight, Valery Volkov killed Stepanov and Izvarin.”

“Well, then something has gone right, hasn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t for you that he killed them.”

“Well, I don’t give a damn why he killed them. I wanted them dead, and they’re dead.”

“He killed them for us.”

Krupatin nodded monotonously, indicating yes, yes, he was sure she had a story. “Volkov. Me. Bontate.”

“Carlo Bontate.” He paused. “Goddamn greasy fucking Sicilian.” He paused again. “What about the silly Chinese?”

“I gave him the capsules.”

Krupatin snorted with amusement. “No kidding?”

“I killed him for Volkov and Bontate.”

This time Krupatin was less dismissive of what he was hearing. He held the towel in his lap and looked at her.

“There’s been a coup, Sergei,” Irina said, almost with kindness in her voice, as though she were breaking bad news to a simpleminded man. “You are a dead man. Now Valery Volkov is the new man everyone has to fear. Night passes into a new day—without you.”

“How am I supposed to believe this came about?”

“I made a deal with Volkov and Bontate. I knew you were going to have me killed when this was over.”

“You knew?” Krupatin scoffed. “My God, you stupid bitch. You have a useless imagination.” In spite of his mockery, he was clearly finding it more difficult to be cavalier about what he was hearing.

“I went to Bontate. We made a deal. He wanted to bring in Volkov.”

“Why? What made him think Valery would go for this deal?”

“His intelligence had informed him that Volkov was wanting you out of the way. Volkov was just waiting for the right time.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“And Ometov told me that as well. That is how I knew that Bontate was telling the truth.”

Krupatin was silent. He looked at the floor. “Shit. Leo Ometov.”

“Yes, Leo.”

Krupatin shook his head. “I don’t know who hates me more, you or Leo.” He made a disgusted face. “I really don’t know why I didn’t have him killed a long time ago. It made sense. I just didn’t do it. I don’t know why I didn’t do it.” He looked up. “So you agreed to kill me.”

“No, I did not ‘agree’ to kill you, Sergei. I begged to do it. I consider it an act of human kindness, a gesture without any moral ambiguity.”

“Oh, God, listen to you—‘moral ambiguity.’ How can you talk about morals? The word ought to stick in your throat. You are just like me, Irina, only I don’t pretend to be righteous. You whine and moan and suffer, but you never change your life, do you? Look at you. You are disgusting, a scab on the ass of society, and you want to talk about morals.”

For a man who was staring at his executioner, Krupatin seemed completely lacking in any desire to ingratiate himself, to curry any measure of mercy. In fact, he seemed to be goading her.

He sneered. “Tell me, damn you. What are you getting out of this, Irina?”

“What am I
getting?”
The question seemed to amaze her.

“Yes. What? A promotion? Instead of killing people now, you will advance up the ladder to whore? What? A house in the country? I don’t know.”

“My
daughter!”
she yelled. “You
know
why I have lived like this—you
know!”

“Oh, God,” Krupatin groaned, cutting her off. “Not again, whining about that—”

“Shut up!” Irina screamed. “Do not even speak of her.” She stormed around the sofa, the SIG-Sauer leveled at Krupatin’s face as she shoved aside the coffee table, sending a crystal vase flying into the glass wall. Without stopping, her fury displacing her common sense, she climbed onto the sofa, straddled him on her knees, grabbed his hair with her left hand, and put the silencer to his mouth.

“Open it!” He refused.

“Goddamn
your soul!” she screamed. She pulled back the gun and rammed the silencer into Krupatin’s mouth, shattering his teeth, bloodying his lips as he yelled in pain.

Cate heard the snick of the safety on the pistol.

“No! Irina!” Cate didn’t think; she spoke without forethought, only impulse. “Listen to me—listen to me.” She quickly moved closer to them, until she knew she was in Irina’s peripheral vision. “Irina, listen to what I am going to say. I’m an FBI agent. I am working undercover.”

Irina and Krupatin were frozen in a timeless, weightless instant, their eyes as dead as stone upon each other, and all the confused and distorted passions that had tied them together throughout the endless years were condensed into this slender moment between what was and what was to be.

“Krupatin is right.” Cate spoke rapidly, fighting to deflect the direction of the impending action. “Stepanov was working for the FBI as an informant. I was working with him. They knew Krupatin was coming to Houston. Stepanov was going to lead them to him. Irina, don’t do this.”

Irina’s eyes were locked wide open. She was wild with adrenaline. Krupatin swallowed, trying to keep from gagging on his own blood, which drooled down his chin under the barrel of the silencer.

“Irina!” Gate was frantic to be heard. “Listen tome …. The FBI, they’re listening to us right now—they’re on their way. Leave me the gun; leave me Krupatin. Get out of here. They only want him. If you stay, you’ll be killed, or they’ll put you in prison. Either way, it will be a disaster for Félia. Don’t you understand that? You have money. You can take her away. The two of you can disappear. You know how to do that.”

Nothing happened. No one moved.

“No.” Irina shook her head. “Impossible. They … The agreement is … This is the condition.”

Krupatin’s eyes were frozen on Irina, his head arched back, blood stringing from his mouth onto his suit.

Cate could hear her own heart. She could hear time slipping away like a sigh. She could hear her thoughts moving through her mind like rain.

Krupatin suddenly brought his hand out from under the cushion on the sofa and rammed it up between Irina’s spread legs. There were two explosions as he fired into her pelvis, and Cate saw a spray of blood and tissue lift up the back of her dress and blow out from between her buttocks.