James Swain - Bad News Travels

But Jon had smelled the deception, and it had brought out the worst in him. He aimed a well-deserved kick at the detective’s head.

“You’re a piece of shit,” Jon said.

“Cut it out.” To Sykes she said, “Get up.”

Sykes dragged himself off the floor, and returned to his spot on the bench. His hair stuck up on his head, his lip bloodied from his fall.

“Did you just lie to us, Detective?” Daniels asked.

“Everything I said was true,” Sykes said.

Jon lunged at him, the agents holding him back. “Two days ago, you told us that you didn’t know Martin. Now you’re telling us that Martin never came to you.”

“That’s right,” Sykes said. “I didn’t know him, and he never filed a formal complaint with the police. So what?”

“When Martin watched the video of you and Lissette having sex, he freaked out. He knew you . You’re not telling us the truth.”

Sykes’s eyes went wide. Trapped by his own words, he had nowhere to go. “I want an attorney,” he declared.

Daniels cursed under her breath. It was impossible to know how much of what Sykes had told them was true, or cleverly fabricated lies designed to protect his skin. Under any other circumstances, she would have ended things, and let him call a lawyer; but this was her father they were talking about, and she was not prepared to go silently into the night.

“Let him go,” she said.

The agents released their grip on Jon, who jumped forward.

Sykes let out a muted cry. “Get away from me!”

Grabbing the detective by the shoulders, Jon dragged him toward the cell door. “I’m going to hang your sorry ass from the gallows by my shirt.”

“Help me!”

Daniels and the agents didn’t move. No one liked this tactic, but sometimes it was the only path forward. The gallows were directly outside the cellblock, and Jon yanked the cellblock door open and dragged Sykes kicking and screaming toward it.

“I’ll talk!” Sykes said.

Jon kept dragging him toward the gallows. “You said that before.”

“On my wife’s grave.”

Jon put on the brakes. “So help me God, if you’re lying...”

“I’ll tell you everything.”

Jon retraced his steps, and tossed Sykes onto the bench. The detective’s chest heaved up and down as he gasped for breath. Jon cuffed him in the back of the head.

“Start talking.”

“Martin was on our radar from the beginning,” Sykes said. “We weren’t sure if he was a part of the scam, or just an innocent dupe.”

“Which was he?”

“He was a pawn. That Russian bitch had him wrapped around her little finger. He was pussy-whipped.” He glanced at Daniels. “Sorry, ma’am, but it’s the truth.”

Daniels fumed. “Why didn’t you tell us this when we came to see you?”

“I was afraid you’d be angry with me,” the detective said.

“Why would I be angry?”

“Your father came to me, and said he wanted to press charges. He’d secretly tape-recorded several of his telephone conversations with the Sokolovs. It was enough evidence to put them away for a long time.”

“What did you do with this evidence?”

“I burned it.”

“You did what?”

“I put it in the fireplace in my house and burned it. Martin was willing to accept responsibility and admit his mistakes. I wasn’t. It was as simple as that.”

“You betrayed him.”

Sykes nodded ruefully. “Not the proudest day of my life, but that’s what I did. Your father told the Russians that he’d gone to the police, and was going to fight back. The Russians responded by sending him the video of me with Lissette.”

“To silence him,” Daniels said, seething.

“Uh-huh.”

The detective fell silent. Jon cuffed him again. The blow was hard enough to snap Sykes’s head forward.

“Stop hitting me,” he protested.

“You’re holding back, which is as good as lying in my book,” Jon said.

“Who said I was holding back?”

“I did. The fact that you betrayed Martin wasn’t the end of the world. Martin could have picked up the phone, and called his daughter. If he was willing to admit the affair to you, then he would have done the same with her. So why didn’t he?”

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes. And I think you know the answer. It was Nicki, wasn’t it?”

“Who’s Nicki?”

“His granddaughter. Martin spoke to her a day before he took his life, and told her he was sorry. I didn’t know what that meant, but I do now. The Russians were going to send the blackmail videos to Martin’s granddaughter, whom he adored. Martin couldn’t bear the thought of that, so he drained his bank account, and paid them off. Does that sound about right?”

“Yes,” the detective said.

“Who gave the Russians Nicki’s email?”

“Katya did. She stole Nicki’s personal information off Martin’s computer.”

“Who told you that?”

“Lissette sent me an email. She said that the Sokolovs had shut Martin down.”

“How did you feel about that?”

“Relieved. I wanted the whole thing to go away.”

“I’m sure you did. Last question. Why did Martin take his life after paying the Sokolovs off?”

“I have no idea.”

Jon put his hand on the back of Sykes’s neck, and drove the detective’s face into the table. Sykes was wise enough to turn his face sideways at the moment of impact, which spared him a broken nose and losing a number of his front teeth. Jon pulled him back up.

“The Sokolovs weren’t done with him, were they? They had found his Achilles’ heel with Nicki, and were going to continue to blackmail him. Isn’t that right?”

Sykes was breathing hard and said nothing.

“Lissette told you that. Or maybe it was Martin. It doesn’t really matter, because you didn’t do a damn thing about it. You just wanted the whole thing to go away.”

Sykes continued to be mute.

“And when the call came that an apparent suicide had been found by a hiker, you were hoping that it was Martin, weren’t you?”

Still nothing. Jon grabbed the detective by the back of the neck. It was enough to get Sykes to break his silence.

“I liked Martin. He was my friend,” Sykes said.

“You didn’t like him enough to help him,” Jon said. “You stood by, and let these animals torture him. You’re a god damn disgrace.”

“What about our deal?” Sykes asked.

“No deal,” Daniels said. “Get him out of here.”

Sykes was dragged out of the cellblock by the FBI agents. Daniels remained behind with Jon, telling the agents she needed a moment to herself. When they were gone, she buried her head in Jon’s chest, and wept.

“Sykes could have done something. He could have helped my dad,” she cried.

“I’m sorry, Beth. At least now we know the truth,” he said.

“When you were hitting him, I was thinking, Please kill him. Please .”

“But then you would have arrested me.”

Jon held her with one arm. In his other hand was his cell phone, which he punched a number into. In a rage, she tore the device from his hand, and tossed it onto the floor.

“How can you be so heartless?” she said.

“There’s no time to waste. We have to move quickly.”

“What are you talking about?”

He retrieved the cell phone and finished dialing the number.

“Put that damn thing away!” she said.

He had to leave a message. “Carlo, this is your old buddy Jon. I need help. Call me ASAP.” He pocketed the phone and gave her his full attention. “Pull yourself together.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“You’re letting your emotions mess with your head. Why did we pull this routine on Sykes? Why didn’t your team just arrest him, and interrogate him normally? Because we were threatened last night, and we determined the threat was real.”