Kirk Russell - Dead Game

Alvarez would be on the street and Marquez wasn’t worried, but he was jittery. He tried to lighten up and hook into the banter, but his mind was on the FBI bust. Ludovna connected to Weisson’s via the sturgeon and that got talked about in the FBI Field Office. He’d sat an hour with Ehrmann at the long table there and ticked off the names again of the suspects in their sturgeon poaching investigation. Ehrmann had acknowledged that the Bureau suspected Ludovna was trafficking in caviar. But he wasn’t concerned about Ludovna’s animal trafficking. That was Marquez’s to deal with. The conversation was all about Anna.

Marquez sat with Roberts before Ludovna arrived. He told her what had happened today, told her about the call from Anna, meeting on the slough road, the questioning at the FBI Field Office.

“They’re getting ready to make a bust and they’re not saying where or when, but it’s very soon. I saw an FBI SWAT commander that I recognized come through the Sacramento Field Office while I was there, and they all have that feel to them. They’re gearing up. What I’m not clear about is Anna’s role. I think they were hoping she’d get some particular bit of intelligence for them. They hoped and she didn’t deliver, and now they’re not sure what side she’s on. She’s stopped cooperating with them. They’ve threatened her with new charges and that’s frightened her even more. And, because they didn’t find her today, they think she had help escaping.”

“What do you think?”

“She might have had help. My friend Douglas showed up and that calmed things down, but they’re wired up and ready to go.” He paused. “I made a mistake meeting her this morning without calling Ehrmann first.”

“Because she’s trying to use you?”

“Or communicate through me. She knows I don’t trust her, but she assumes the FBI is talking to me.”

“Sounds like they did plenty of that.”

“If by any chance her name comes up tonight, and there’s no reason to think it will, play dumb with Ludovna.”

“That’s easy for me. No one has ever seen me with her. Not so easy for you if August knows Ludovna and they’re talking.”

“If that’s the case, then Ludovna has always known who I am.”

Marquez could see headlights out on the street. Wind picked up dry leaves from the gutter and sidewalk that flickered in front of the headlights as the BMW turned into the driveway. His cell rang. Alvarez said, “Your guests are here.”

“Who’s with him?”

“Nike Man.”

The doorbell rang.

“I should get it,” Roberts said.

“Yeah, it should be you. Remember he’s still suspicious of me. He was an interrogation specialist, and he’s here to find out about me. He may ask you a lot of questions, and he may try to get you alone to question you.”

“And whatever else.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Roberts opened the door and said something that was supposed to translate as Greetings! I welcome you . She got it off an Internet clip of Voyager space ship greetings in various languages, kept replaying the Russian one until she got it down. They moved into the living room, and Ludovna smiled at Marquez after he took in the room. He spread his arms.

“So you were fucking with me. You live like a king.”

“I’d rather have that house of yours and what comes with it.” He winked at Ludovna. “I’ll trade you.”

“How much is this worth?”

“Two and a half million, but we don’t own it. We lease and it costs too much to do that, but to build a business you have to put a good face on.”

Ludovna’s gaze followed the skin high on Robert’s thigh as she bent over and put down the plate of appetizers. Marquez opened the first bottle of champagne, and Ludovna made a present of the caviar he’d brought. He had it rolled up in a black cashmere scarf that he pulled from the pocket of his coat and unfolded, revealing the glass jar. He gave it to Roberts, taking her hand, pressing the jar into her palm.

“Better than gold,” he said.

Marquez took the jar from her, made a show of trying to read the label while complaining about nearsightedness. Caspian label but he had to wonder if it was from Raburn’s, and it would be like Ludovna to test him now. The vacuum seal on the jar made a low pop as he opened it. The cork came out of the champagne, and Roberts took the bottle from him, her eyes teasing him, saying, “That’s my job.”

She poured Ludovna’s glass first, then Nike Man and came back to Ludovna because the champagne’s foamy bubbles had kept her from filling the glass as high as she’d wanted. She was near enough to him for Ludovna to feel the heat off her legs, and later, after Marquez had toured him around the lower floor of the house and satiated his initial curiosity, and after Nike Man had gone down the hallway to use the bathroom and secretly look into the bedroom, after they had opened the vodka and drunk a couple of glasses, Ludovna took him aside.

“Your wife,” he said.

“What about her?”

“Does she know about our business?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes I want you to send her instead of delivering yourself.”

“She may not want to do that.”

“But you’ll ask her, okay, and then you get her to do that for me. I don’t like the same people delivering all the time.” Ludovna moved the air with his hand. “Too predictable.”

“She likes to stay out of it, but I have a friend-”

“No friends.”

“Look-”

“No, you understand, I don’t want anybody more that I don’t know, so send her sometimes. I’ll tell you when.”

Before the night was over Ludovna had held her hands, kissed the backs of each, and told her she was lovely and he wanted to see her again. He said good night to Marquez, but he thanked Roberts. After he left they rearranged the paintings, collected the trophies and moved everything into the garage as Marquez had promised Bell.

“I’m real surprised Bell let us use his house,” Roberts said.

“He said it doesn’t feel like his house anymore, and he’s signed a lease on a house in D.C. You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Marquez turned off the lights, shut the door. He doubted he’d ever see the inside of the house again and wondered when he’d see Bell. He got in his truck, and Roberts pulled away ahead of him. He figured he’d call Katherine after stopping in at the safehouse and then make the hour-and-a-half drive home. Then, just before getting to the safehouse, he got a call from Ehrmann.

“Where are you, Lieutenant?”

“In Sacramento at our safehouse.”

“I’ve been thinking about what happened today, and I’m sorry for the way it went down with you. Not all of the agents were up to speed on your team working with her. There was no reason to bring you in that way.”

They were playing a game here. Ehrmann didn’t owe any real apology and they both knew it, but Marquez went along.

“No, I shouldn’t have gone out to meet her. I should have called you, but I’ve wanted to confront her in person, and she sucked me in with the promise of names of poachers. Have you found her yet?”

“No.”

“Are you out there looking for her tonight?”

“Until we find her we’ll be out there.” There was a staticky pause, and Marquez realized they hadn’t gotten to the reason for the call yet. “How far is your safehouse from our field office?”

He had no doubt Ehrmann already knew the answer to that, and he knew what was coming but wasn’t sure of Ehrmann’s reasons.

“About twenty minutes.”

“Do you want to ride along with me tonight? There are people you might help us connect.”

“So it’s tonight.”