Mike Faricy - Russian Roulette

Then Hale called Aaron and the two of us went down to his office to let him know we had Nikki and that she was working with us.

Aaron had dark bags under his eyes and looked like he was operating on about three hours of sleep. He looked at the two of us as Hale hobbled in behind me.

“What the hell happened to you two? You look like shit.”

“Well, that’s a marked improvement over yesterday,” I said.

Hale groaned into the chair, I stood against the door frame. After thirty seconds of pleasantries Hale gave me a nod and I decided to drop our bomb on Aaron.

“Look, Aaron, we got Nikki Mathias,” I said, just throwing it out there. I felt relieved just getting it off my chest. I didn’t like keeping information from him.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” he said off handedly.

“Hunh?”

“I got a call from Peters earlier this morning, bragging about how they’d tracked down some bank in the middle of nowhere, had account names, and were going to descend on the place armed with federal warrants. I didn’t think the Feds could put that together, they’re too busy covering their asses to get their hands dirty. That info had to come from somewhere and when you clowns were conspicuously absent it wasn’t a long leap to put two and two together.”

“Look, it’s not like we were trying to keep you out of anything, you just seemed to have your plate pretty full at the time and well, we…”

Aaron raised his hand to quiet me.

“What’s done is done. It took awhile but something good had to come from yesterday. You’ve seen the news?”

We shook our heads.

“Seems we got a serial killer out there shooting innocent citizens as they walk along the river. Jesus, Sergie Alekseeva, and this moron yesterday, Villas somebody. Innocent citizens, God help me. So, how’d you find her?”

“Oh just sort of ran into her,” I said hoping to move on.

“Looks like you may have run into her pretty hard.”

“She’s given us a lot of names and places. I think you guys might be able to shut down a good portion of Braco’s revenue stream,” I said.

“Revenue stream? Who have you been talking to?” he glanced at Hale.

“We got addresses, names, what the security situation is like. If you moved on this, I bet in twenty-four hours you could do Braco some real harm,” I added.

“It would sure take some heat off.”

“She’s giving us information you guys can act on. You can judge whether it’s good or not.”

With that Hale handed Aaron two sheets of paper with names and addresses Nikki had provided. Aaron read through them, picked up the phone, and spoke to someone named Norm who entered the office a moment later. Aaron introduced us all around. Norm nodded, took the list, and left.

“Any chance I can meet the ever-popular Nikki?” he asked.

“That’s not a problem, I don’t think. Let me tell you what I have in mind,” Hale said. He went on to explain how Nikki was key to bringing down Braco and important, though in a lesser role, in doing the same thing to Kumarin down in Chicago. He finished up with, “So you can see how her arrest would not be in our best interest.”

“Okay,” Aaron nodded, and that was all he said.

Two days later we began to shut down Braco’s empire in earnest. The call centers were the first priority. Hundreds of Internet ads were out there listing cell-phone numbers with bogus photos. The ads funneled back into maybe a half dozen different call centers, which then contacted and sent transport to pick up and deliver the girls, not to mention extract payment.

I envisioned some sort of secure facility. High-tech cameras, armed guards, bars on the windows, and something akin to a vault door that was impossible to breach. I could not have been more wrong.

They were operating out of a series of nondescript offices. Two or three woman manning computers to constantly update ads on dating networks and a variety of search engines. They answered the calls, set up the appointments. They were just like Da’nita Bell, only not in a wheelchair and still alive.

At the first place we knocked on an office door that was locked. Nikki called someone’s name and answered whatever was asked in Russian. We heard light footsteps and then the door opened almost immediately.

Aaron, Norm, and two other guys barged in wearing bulletproof vests with their weapons drawn. It got the girl’s attention. Hale and I followed. Once it was secure I brought Nikki in. One of the women, a mean-looking blond, spat some invective in Russian at her, kicked out, and caught me in the shin. It really hurt.

Nikki half screamed something back at her. The three women, in the process of getting handcuffed behind their backs looked at one another like deer in the headlights.

We placed them in different corners of the office. Two of Aaron’s guys led the mean blond out to a squad car. Once she was out of the room Nikki walked over to Hale and me, then whispered, “The dark-haired one might have something to say. She has been knocked.”

“You mean knocked up?” I asked, still rubbing my shin.

“Has baby in her.”

Aaron gave the nod to the other two guys and they led a thin brown-haired girl out, holding her by the elbows. She looked like she needed a bath and a meal and appeared to be somewhat drugged and not completely aware of what was going on.

Nikki approached the dark-haired girl. I gathered around with Hale and Aaron. She resembled a frightened puppy, large dark eyes, visibly shaking, blinking back tears. In a soft voice Nikki translated their questions and the young girl’s answers. At one point she gave the girl a hug, wiped the tears from her face, then finally kissed her on the forehead just before they led her away, crying.

We hit four of the places, made sixteen arrests, and confiscated twenty-one computers, which were delivered to the bunk-bed dungeon for Gary and the Mikes to begin sorting through.

At our final stop we could hear what sounded like women arguing. Nikki knocked and a male voice answered, gruff sounding. Nikki looked at Aaron, shook her head to indicate she didn’t know who it was, then knocked again and said something. The male voice shouted something back, loud, angry. Nikki replied it sounded like she was pleading. The door flew open and a fat, bald man stood in the doorway. He was shouting, and wearing white jockey shorts and a mean look.

Aaron’s fist brought whatever he was shouting to a close. The entry team trampled over him in the process of surging into the office. Two paunchy, middle-aged women stood together in jeans and bras. Their upper bodies looked like bread dough covered with knuckle imprints and hung heavily over their waistbands. It made you wish they’d quickly find their tops. Cigarettes smoldered in their left hands. They were sipping what looked like vodka. One of them held the bottle and apparently had just finished refilling their shot glasses. They stood completely still, eyes wide with shock.

On a couch against the wall was a very young girl, no more than sixteen maybe seventeen. She wore jeans, unzipped and half pulled down, no top and was either very drunk or drugged. She was aware we were in the room, but as she attempted to stand she fell to the floor, got up on all fours and then vomited.

The bald guy in the jockey shorts was kneeling, hands cuffed behind his back, beer belly resting on his thighs, his nose was bleeding. He half shouted something, then spit at Nikki.

She was wearing the same stylish boots she’d worn the day we spotted her, sharp pointed toe, narrow six-inch heel. She calmly, quickly took a very graceful three-paced hop, kicked him in the crotch, full force, like she was attempting a fifty yard field goal.