Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

He was taking off his coat as Dratshev appeared in the doorway.

“How have you been?” the Russian asked. So many years had passed since they had seen each other that Monty scarcely recognized him. He’d gone completely bald or was shaving his head now, and his neatly trimmed mustache and trademark narrow beard, which ran along his jawline to the bottom of his ears, were more gray than black. Even his demeanor was different. He’d always been the picture of arrogant braggadocio, but today he looked worried. Although he smiled when he shook Monty’s hand, his dark eyes spoke another truth.

“Not relevant, nor do I think you care. I’m here about Jack.” Normally, Monty only referred to her as Jaclyn, but it was no business of Dratshev’s to know Jack’s birth name.

“Jack who?”

Monty suppressed a cringe. “The one you occasionally hire for hits.”

“Have a seat.” Dratshev gestured toward the corner that held a couch, coffee table, and two armchairs, as he shut the door. “Vodka?”

“I don’t drink.” Monty threw his coat over the back of one of the armchairs and took a seat.

“That’s not what I remember.” Dratshev laughed. “I remember you and me putting a whole bottle away, just the two of us.” He poured himself a glass from a bottle on his desk and took the armchair across from Monty.

“I don’t drink anymore.”

“Pity. Life is clearer through the thick bottom of a tumbler.”

“I have glasses for that now.” Monty patted his breast pocket.

“Age, she is a heartless bitch.”

Monty tapped his fingers on the armrest when Dratshev went quiet. He stared at the Russian, waiting for the man’s reaction to his visit and inquiry about Jaclyn.

“So.” Dratshev finally spoke and leaned forward. “I don’t work for you anymore.”

“That’s correct.”

“So, why do you come to me looking for help?”

“Because I can.”

“I don’t owe you any answers.”

“Just because you’re not my CI anymore doesn’t mean I can’t destroy you.”

“You said you would release me after I gave you that fucking crazy arms dealer in Israel,” Dratshev said. “I delivered.”

Monty had pulled any and all strings ten years ago to track down the Israeli bastard who had taken and hurt Jaclyn, and when he found him, he personally buried him alive. “Because you wanted him out of the way. He was taking your clients.”

“But I gave him to you when you said it was personal.”

“And then you gave me another one, and then another one, and then—”

“So, who cares?” Dratshev’s tone was matter-of-fact, but he took a long swig of his drink.

“I let you live twenty years ago in exchange for intel and cartels.”

“We smoked, had vodka together,” Dratshev said. “I bring you girls. We became friends.”

“We were associates.”

“And now you are a middle-aged, boring fuck.”

“Maybe, but I can take you down.”

“Bullshit.”

“I can call all those dealers you helped me put away. I’m curious as to how fast they can get to you from behind bars. My guess is between two to three hours.”

Dratshev’s eyes widened so much he looked like a cartoon. “That’s not our deal.”

“So?” Monty shrugged. “Who cares?” he repeated with Dratshev’s flippancy.

The Russian seemed to consider his alternatives for several seconds before he spoke again. “Why do you want Jack?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Do you know her?”

“None of your business.”

Dratshev stared down at the vodka in his hand. “I don’t know where she is.”

“You’re lying.”

Dratshev took another long swig. “I tried to find her for a job.”

“What job?” Monty asked.

“I don’t know. A business associate asked me to find her.”

“And?”

“I left a message. Jack called me back. I gave her the number of my associate, told her it was big money. Jack always works for big money. I didn’t hear from her again.” He seemed to be telling the truth.

“Let’s start with you giving me the contact number you gave Jack.”

“It’s no good now, for sure. Only for Jack,” the Russian replied.

“Who’s your associate?”

Dratshev shook his head. “I can’t talk about that.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“No. I mean I can’t.” The Russian sounded nervous. “Listen, I don’t know if you ever met Jack. I don’t know if you want to kill her or make hits for you, but I like her. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“You like her,” Monty repeated dubiously.

“Da.” Dratshev met his eyes. “She is a cold executioner, but there is something good in her heart.”

“I think she’s in trouble,” Monty said.

“Maybe. She is not exactly a libra.” Dratshev snorted. “But why do you care?”

“A what?”

“You know, woman who works with books.”

“Librarian.”

“That’s what I said.”

Monty willed himself not to roll his eyes. “Did she take the job for your associate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

“If she did, you don’t want to get involved.” That meant a lot coming from the Russian, since he was aware of what Monty was capable of and what power he had. Monty had told him years ago that he worked for the Agency.

“That’s for me to determine,” Monty replied.

“If Jack is with her, you can’t do anything about it,” Dratshev said. “She will have to stay there, probably forever.”

“So your associate is a woman.”

He looked away and didn’t answer.

“Arms dealers, drugs, prostitution, organs, terrorism. I’ve handled them all,” Monty said. “Which one is it?”

Dratshev looked at him and simply nodded.

“I see.” The woman he was referring to apparently liked to dabble in a bit of everything.

“What would Jack have to do for her?”

“What she does best, I think. Find and kill.” Dratshev laughed. “Why do you care? It was her decision to take the job. Find someone else.” He took a big gulp of vodka and gargled with it.

Monty slammed his hand on his armrest. “I don’t think it was her decision.”

Dratshev choked on the liquid and broke out in a horrendous cough.

“Who is she?” Monty yelled. “Who is Jack working for?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Are you afraid of her?”

“Also.”

“Also, what? Do you work for her?”

“With her, for her.” He shrugged. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Arms?”

Dratshev glanced quickly left, then right, almost unconsciously. “This is a big deal, Pierce. No one can know.”

“Big money?”

“Big stakes. What I did this time can put me away for the next ten lives.”

“That’s your business. I’m not here about that.” Monty sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Remember how you and I used to work together? You would give me a name and I’d make sure no one ever found out. I got what I wanted, and you got to stay on top and keep the buyers to yourself. If this person is involved in the arms trade, which is your main financial source and occupation, you get to keep her clients.”

Dratshev coughed again, placed his tumbler on the coffee table, and leaned forward. “I can’t do it. The suka will find out I told you. I know she will. And when she does, my whole family will go down the shitter, liter…literary…”

“Literally,” Monty finished for him.

“She will cut us up in pieces and flush us down the shitter.”

“I got that.”

Monty had seen the Russian hesitant, scared, and uncooperative before, but he’d never seen him petrified at the mere thought of giving a name. Who had that kind of power over a kingpin like Dratshev? He wasn’t the brightest light on the tree, but he was good at what he did, and everyone feared him in the arms business. Dratshev didn’t need more than a simple dirty look to put a bullet in someone’s head.