Frank Zafiro - And Every Man Has to Die

“That is twice you’ve lied to me, Mrs. Cherny,” he growled. “Do not let there be a third, or the beating you took from your husband will seem a pleasant diversion.”

He watched for the fear to come into her eyes, but saw only a flicker. That both surprised and delighted him.

This woman is very brave. She is truly Russian.

“Shall we start again?” he asked, his voice pleasant once more.

Elena nodded. “Yes.”

“Good,” Val said. “Where is Ivan?”

“The police took him away.”

“Why?”

Elena gave him a look of disbelief, then motioned toward her face. “He did this.”

“Why did you call the police?”

“I didn’t,” she said forcefully. “One of the neighbors must have.”

Val shook his head. “No Russian would call. Only three names on the board downstairs are not Russian. Which of those three called?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you had to guess.”

Elena shrugged. “Probably the bookworm across the hall. She always looks at Ivan with disapproving eyes.”

“You’ll talk to her,” Val said. His inflection made it clear that it wasn’t a question.

“Of course.”

“Good. Now tell me, what did you do to deserve being hit?”

Elena gave him another brief look of barely contained anger, but suppressed it just as quickly as it appeared. “We argued,” she said in an abrupt tone.

“About what?”

“Husband and wife things,” she said shortly.

Val sighed. He glanced over at Pavel and nodded slightly. The young man stepped forward, reaching for Elena with eager hands. Her eyes flew wide and she shrank back in her chair. “No! Please!”

Pavel didn’t stop.

Val didn’t stop him.

The punch broke her nose, by the sound of it. The sickening splat was followed by her surprised grunt of pain. Before she could make another sound, Pavel slapped his hand over her mouth. Blood flowed freely from her nose and over his fingers. With his free hand he grabbed a fistful of hair. He jerked her head back and drew his face close to hers.

“Hurts?” he asked, his question ending in a hiss.

Val watched dispassionately while she struggled to free herself from Pavel’s grasp. He knew that the blood from her nose was coursing into her throat, making it difficult to breathe. Panic would set in shortly.

Pavel turned to him for further instruction. He tipped his head slightly to the left. Pavel let go of the woman’s head and gave her a shove. She took a wet, ragged breath, then bit back a sob. Pavel ignored her, reaching for a kitchen towel and using it to clean her blood off his hand.

Val let her compose herself for a few moments. Then he said, “You see, I don’t like being lied to. It wastes my time. But more than that, it is an insult.”

Elena pinched her nose shut with a wince.

Val lifted his chin toward her. “That is as good as it gets. What I have to offer you, if you lie again, is considerably worse.”

Elena wiped her lips and glanced down at the blood on her fingers. Then she met Val’s eyes and nodded.

“Good,” Val said. “Now, tell me why Ivan hit you.”

She swallowed thickly. Pavel handed her the dishtowel. She wiped her hands and held the towel to her nose. “I asked him to get a different job,” she said, her voice muffled by the cloth.

Val nodded, motioning for her to continue.

She pulled the towel away and stared at the bright red blood, then pressed it back to her nose. “I found the package on the counter. Both packages.”

“He separated them?”

She nodded.

“All right,” Val said. “But why did you concern yourself with your husband’s business?”

Her eyes flashed sullenly, but she didn’t reply. Instead she pulled the towel away and took another look at the blood there.

“It’s clotting already,” Val said. “You have a warrior’s blood.”

She folded the dishtowel in half and wiped away the remaining blood from her mouth and nose. “I found the packages. I told Ivan I was frightened for him. These things bring trouble. Trouble from the police and even more trouble from-”

“That is none of your concern,” Val told her. “Ivan is a good soldier. He is smart. There would have been no police here at all if you hadn’t argued and forced him to discipline you.”

Once again he saw the flash of anger in her eyes and the set of her jaw. He found himself liking this new wife of Ivan more and more, even if she might be difficult.

“We argued,” she said. “He hit me. The neighbor called. Now you know everything.”

Val leaned back in his chair, considering. Then he said, “Not everything. Where is the package now? Do the police have it?”

“No. I hid it before I answered the door.”

“Where was Ivan?”

“He left as soon as we saw the car in the back lot.” She pointed at the smoky glass window on the other side of the living room. “He had to hide on the third floor until the police were out of the hallway. But they found him, because the officer told me that they were taking him to jail.”

Val removed his lighter and stared down at it. “He may have charges to face because he fought with the police,” he said quietly, “but I suspect he will face no charges for striking his wife. Am I right?”

Elena drew herself up in her seat. “I did not call the police. I will not cooperate.”

“Excellent,” Val said. “Now, bring me the packages.”

Elena stood and left the room. Val glanced at Pavel and made a gun with his thumb and forefinger. Pavel nodded in understanding. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small.25 auto. It wasn’t a very powerful gun, but it would do the job if Elena decided to come back with anything other than Ivan’s packages.

Val heard some rustling in the bedroom, then the sliding sound of a drawer being opened and slammed shut. Elena reappeared in the kitchen with two parcels. One was the shape of a small brick, wrapped tightly in brown paper. The other was a white cloth bag tinged with oil marks. She dropped both on the table. The brown paper brick made a heavy, slapping thud. The bag gave out a metallic rattle.

Val didn’t bother to check the packages. They would be right or he would return to deal with Elena Cherny. She knew this and would not be foolish enough to double-cross him. Instead he asked, “Do you have a grocery bag?”

Elena stared at him a moment, then turned toward the counter. She motioned for Pavel to step aside, then opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a brown paper bag. She put it onto the table next to the two packages.

“Open the bag,” Val instructed.

Elena clenched her jaw but said nothing. She took hold of the paper bag and gave it a single, violent downward shake to open it, then set it on the table. She placed both packages inside the bag and pushed it toward Val.

Val rose from his seat. He closed the bag carefully and rolled the top down. He handed the bag to Pavel, who had slipped the gun back into his pocket as soon as Elena arrived with the packages.

“Don’t forget to talk to your neighbor,” Val said to Elena.

“I will take care of it.”

Val nodded, then turned and left the apartment. Pavel trailed behind him, the brown paper grocery bag clutched in his hand.

Saturday, July 12th

2058 hours

Graveyard Shift

Officer Thomas Chisolm sat quietly at the Adam Sector roll call table. The large conference room had three tables, one for each of the three sectors. Adam and Baker covered the north side of River City, while Charlie sector covered the more affluent, usually quieter south side. A lectern, currently empty, stood at the head of the tables. Rows upon rows of mailboxes perched on the back wall like pigeon nests, some bare and others stuffed with paperwork that might date back as far as the assigned officer’s rookie year.