Brad Thor - Full Black

Sevan sat quietly, as did Lavrov, who was being made very uncomfortable by what he was hearing. Finally, Sevan said, “What if I told you, you were right?”

“Right about what?”

“Right about the men in the alley that night. What if I told you that I had tracked down the men responsible for murdering Ava?”

“I’d say you’re lying.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because,” replied Ralston, “if you’d found them, you’d have already turned them in to the police.”

Sevan opened the drawer in front of him and removed an envelope. Slowly, he slid it halfway across the desk.

“What’s this?”

“The names and addresses of the two men who murdered Ava.”

Ralston looked at him. “And you’ve just been sitting on this information?”

“Let’s say I’ve been trying to decide what the right thing is to do with it.”

Was Sevan nuts? Talking about taking out Ava’s killers in front of Lavrov?

The attorney seemed to be reading his mind. “Mr. Lavrov is trustworthy. Don’t worry about him.”

“You don’t want this on your conscience, Marty. Give whatever you have to the police.”

“Even if it means Ava’s killers only get life in prison, or worse, walk free?”

“Marty, you’re an attorney, for God’s sake. You’d throw that all out the window for revenge? All of this?” Ralston asked, looking around the luxuriously appointed office. “Your family already lost Ava; they couldn’t stand to lose you, too. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Marty. Whoever’s names are in that envelope, give them to the cops. You may hate my guts, but one day you’ll thank me. Sometimes, revenge is a dish that’s better never served.”

Sevan looked at Lavrov. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“Told him what?” said Ralston.

Sevan shoved the envelope the rest of the way across the desk so that it came to rest in front of Ralston. “Open it.”

Ralston was tempted, but at the same time he knew that if he read what was inside that envelope and those people ended up dead, he’d be one of the prime suspects. Having Lavrov witness the entire thing just gave him a bad feeling. “Not interested.”

Sevan’s eyebrows arched again. “I think you should open it.”

Ralston leaned back in his chair. His body language was answer enough.

The attorney looked at Lavrov and said, “You open it.”

Lavrov glanced at Ralston and then leaned forward and timidly retrieved the envelope.

The man’s fat fingers approached the flap of the envelope as if he were handling the repository of some historic document.

“Hurry up, already,” Sevan prodded.

Lavrov did as he was told. He removed a single, folded sheet of paper. Setting the envelope on the desk, he unfolded the page and turned it around so Ralston could see.

Any question that Martin Sevan had called him to the house to do anything but mess with him was immediately put to rest. The piece of paper Lavrov held up was completely blank.

“Fuck you, Marty,” Ralston said as he grabbed his backpack and stood up.

He was halfway to the door before he heard Sevan say, “Get back in here. You passed.”

“I what?” he said, turning angrily to face the attorney.

“You heard me. I said, passed. Now get back over here and sit down.”

“Up yours, Marty.”

Sevan nodded. “Yeah, you’re pissed off. I get it. Now stop acting like a little girl and sit down. We’ve got a lot to go over.”

“Is this some big game to you, Marty?”

The attorney’s face was as serious as Ralston could ever remember having seen it. “This is not a game. This is my career. Hell, this is my life and my family’s lives. You think I’m just going to hand over the kind of information you asked for without knowing if I can trust you?”

“What does trusting me have to do with anything?”

“Luke, do I look like I’m stupid? Larry Salomon is your meal ticket in this town. Nobody likes when somebody messes with their rice bowl. Understand?”

Ralston was following him, but didn’t know exactly where he was trying to go with it.

Sevan shook his head. “This town robs people of their souls. I needed to know that you hadn’t sold yours. I needed to know that you were still the kind of guy who would do the right thing.”

Now Ralston really was confused. “Wait a second,” he said. “That’s what I did at the trial and you hate my guts for it.”

“Hate’s a very strong word.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Marty. Your entire family wrote me off after I refused to testify against those two guys.”

“It was a tough time for our family.”

Ralston looked right into the man’s eyes. “Yeah? Well, at least you all had each other. I had nobody. I loved Ava and still miss her to the point that it hurts. Worse than that, I have to live with always wondering what would have happened if I had only gotten to her faster. Or what would have happened if I had told the producer I was working with at the time that he could fire me, but I had to take Ava away for her own good?”

“What do you want me to say?” asked Sevan.

“Frankly, Marty, I don’t give a damn. I loved Ava. I know you did, too, but your family circled the wagons and I was left out in the cold. I get it. I was just Ava’s boyfriend. You didn’t owe me anything and I didn’t expect anything.”

The attorney looked at him. “We could have handled things better. I’m sorry that we didn’t.”

An apology? That had been the last thing Ralston had been expecting. He didn’t know how to respond, and Sevan seemed to sense that.

“It wasn’t right. We wanted, no strike that, we needed someone to blame for Ava’s death, and when those two animals walked free from that courtroom, we focused our anger on you. I think all of us in time realized that was the wrong thing to do, but you were essentially out of our lives and our pride kept us from seeking you out.”

“L.A.’s a pretty small town, Marty.”

“We just wanted to put all of it behind us. It was easier to just let it go. Picking at a scab doesn’t help it heal.”

Ralston shook his head. “Scab. Nice analogy.”

Sevan tilted his head to the side and raised his palms. “The fact is that I have a chance to try to make things right and that’s why I’ve asked you here.” Gesturing to Lavrov, he added, “That’s why I’ve asked both of you here.”

Ralston retook his seat and turned his attention to the overweight man in the dark suit. He didn’t say a word. He simply set his backpack down at his feet, kept one eye on the window, and waited for the man to speak.

Lavrov looked at Sevan. When the attorney nodded, Lavrov turned his eyes back to Ralston and said clearly and evenly, “I think I know who sent the Spetsnaz soldiers to kill your friend.”

Ralston didn’t know Aleksey Lavrov from a hole in the ground. Informants could be notoriously unreliable, especially somebody else’s. They liked settling scores by turning parties against each other. That Marty Sevan vouched for the guy didn’t mean Lavrov was without an alternative agenda. Until he was sure, Ralston knew enough to play his cards close to his vest.

Ever the exceptional reader of people, Sevan noted Ralston’s reticence and said, “Before we proceed, it would probably be helpful if Aleksey gave you a bit of background on himself.”

“Yes, that would be helpful,” Ralston replied.

The attorney gestured to Lavrov, as if he were coaching him for trial, and nodded for him to speak.

The husky man reached for his cocktail and took a long sip before setting it back on the coaster. After drying his mouth with the back of his meaty hand, he cleared his throat and said, “I work with the FBI’s Los Angeles field office. I am a naturalized American citizen, but Russian by birth. I work in the office’s Russian organized crime task force.”