BENNINGTON P.I. “BONITA” (12 page)

Jacob Talbot held both of his hands to his temples, rubbing them as he blinked his eyes several times.

“No.  He says he doesn’t have it.”

Deckler looked at me and then leaned down in front of Talbot.

“Do you believe him?”

Talbot shook his head, the sadness returning to his eyes.

“No, he’s lying.”

Deckler’s left hand grasped the back of my neck, pushing my head down toward the table while he whispered to Talbot.

“Then I suggest we do what needs to be done Mr. Talbot.”

Talbot stood up from his chair as Arman stared down calmly at him, seeming not to notice or care about Deckler’s hand still pushing down on my head.

“Like you said, not in here Deckler.  Let’s take care of this in the ally outside.”

Arman looked over at me, his eyebrows rising slightly as he did so.

“That ok with you?  We go outside?”

I stood up, moving my right arm behind me to remove Deckler’s hand from the back of my neck.

“Yeah, let’s go outside Arman.  Bring your paint brush.”

The Russian nodded once, his dark eyes dancing with cold satisfaction.  Talbot and his two goons had no idea of the beast that was about to be loosed against them.

17.

Once we were all outside the
Off the Record,
Talbot motioned for both Arman and I to follow himself, Deckler, and Tony into the narrow alleyway that ran behind the historic Hay Adams building inside which the famous bar was housed.  Just across the street, the lights of the White House could be seen illuminating the unusually cold early evening hours of Washington D.C.

Deckler, wanting to promote himself as a genuine tough guy despite his short stature, pathetic comb over, and rather lumpy appearance, withdrew a small 22 caliber handgun from the back of his grey slacks.

“Come on – into the ally.”

Arman looked down at Deckler with a mixture of bemused indifference.  If the smaller man had hoped to intimidate the Russian, he was failing miserably.

“Do what he says.”

Tony’s voice growled with confident aggression as he pushed Arman forward.

“Move your ass tough guy.”

Arman shook his head and chuckled as he motioned for me to follow him.  Unlike the big Russian mafia enforcer, I wasn’t feeling nearly so confident.  I didn’t like guns, and I liked them a hell of a lot less when they were pointing at me.

“Frank, just give us what we want and everyone walks away from this ok.”

Nearly to the halfway point of the alley, I turned to face Talbot.  He kept playing the good cop in this situation, but I knew he had the power to send both Deckler and Tony packing.

“I told you Talbot, I ain’t got what you’re asking me for.  Maybe you shouldn’t have killed Walt like you did before you got the answers you were looking for.  And now what?  You gonna have those two beat the shit out of us?  Or shoot us?  More people killed?  More blood on your hands?  That won’t save your family, and it sure as hell won’t save you.”

Jacob Talbot’s eyes were moving rapidly behind his glasses as he looked me up and down and then glanced up at Arman who stood to my right.  Nearly a minute passed before he then looked over at Deckler and nodded.

“Kill them.  Kill them both.”

Albert Deckler’s face broke into a wide grin as he placed a silencer at the end of his pistol. 

“About time you get your money’s worth from us Mr. Talbot.  It’ll be our pleasure.  You two - down on your knees.”

Arman shook his head and rolled his eyes, muttering something in Russian under his breath before speaking again in English, his right hand gesturing to each of the other three men as he spoke.

“Last chance for you.  Last chance for all of you.  Go now, or you die.  That simple.  Go now…or you die.”

It was Tony’s turn to scoff at the Russian.  The younger and physically more imposing of Talbot’s goons took a step toward Arman and hissed into the Russian’s face between tightly clenched teeth.

“Guess they didn’t teach little bitches like you how to count back in Russia.  There’s three of us, and two of you, and my partner here has a gun pointed at your face.  You might want to reconsider the odds here big guy.  Now get on your fucking knees.”

Arman glanced to his left and then to his right, followed by several quick nods of his head.

“You make good point.  Three of you, two of us.  Yes, that is very basic math.  Maybe then you tell me what two plus four is, huh?”

Tony’s brow furrowed as his lip curled upward in disgusted confusion.

“Just put a bullet in this asshole’s head now Tony.  He’s too stupid to know any better.”

Arman let out a high pitched whistle and then stood unmoving, a thin, satisfied smile the only hint of what was to follow.

“Two plus four?  What is it?”

Tony’s right hand balled into a fist as he prepared to strike Arman, but then froze beside him as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed against the high bricked walls of the alley.  Two men came from one end of the alley, and two more from the other.  Each one carried a gun, and each one looked more than capable of using it.

Arman stepped toward Tony so that his face was mere inches from the other man’s.  The Russian’s dark eyes burned into Tony, the same thin smile remaining on his face.

“Two plus four is six.  Six of us, three of you.  Now get on YOUR knees, boy.”

Panic overtook Tony’s face as he stepped away from the Russian and watched as the four other men pointed their guns at both him and Deckler.  Deckler had already placed his own gun onto the ground and was holding up his hands in front of him, imploring Arman and his men to remain calm.

“Ok fellas, nobody’s been hurt here.  No reason we don’t keep it like that.  I was just hired to do a job, nothing personal.  How about we just call it a day and be on our way?”

Arman’s right fist catapulted itself the short distance between it and Deckler’s face, smashing into the smaller man’s nose, sending him crashing to the ground where he remained unmoving.  Now I had been hit by that same fist of Arman’s just last year, and let me tell you, the man hits HARD, and I’m certain he was holding back a bit when he kicked my ass.  As for Deckler, no such luck.

Tony mistook Arman’s punch as an opportunity to make a run for it, but the big Russian swung himself around and in one uninterrupted, smooth motion, grasped the goon by his jacket collar and pulled him violently backward and then just as smoothly, pushed him up against one of the two brick walls that bookended the alleyway.

To his credit, Tony fought back, managing to slam his right palm upward into Arman’s chin, snapping the Russian’s head back.  Arman’s grip on Tony remained though, as the Russian’s large right hand clamped around Tony’s neck.

Sensing the breath being squeezed from him, Tony sent his left knee upward to smash into Arman’s groin, causing the Russian to cry out in pain and fall backwards onto the ground next to Deckler’s still unmoving body.  As Tony prepared to kick Arman’s head, he was greeted by several silenced rounds ripping into his chest as he was once again pushed back against the brick wall by the bullets’ collective impact.  Arman’s men were not about to let his head be turned into a soccer ball.  Tony was dead, his body leaving a blood stained trail upon the alleyway wall as it slid slowly downward.

Ivanka’s brother quickly pushed himself back onto his feet, paying little attention to the just killed Tony.  Instead he looked directly at me, and then nodded toward Talbot.

“Do you want him dead, or alive?  If you want him alive, he is your responsibility.  These other two, they will not be bothering you again.”

Jacob Talbot’s eyes widened behind his thick rimmed glasses as he came to the realization I now held the authority of life or death over him. My initial reaction was to have the son-of-a-bitch who had Walt killed be given the same treatment, but then realized that if I wanted more answers, Talbot was the only one I knew of at the moment who could provide them.

“I want him alive – for now.  Can you hold him for me so I can question him later?”

Arman shook his head.

“I don’t run a fucking dog kennel.  I told you, he stays alive, he’s your responsibility.”

I remembered I still had several thousand dollars in the white envelope inside of my jacket.

“I can pay you for the trouble Arman.”

The Russian’s always present desire for more money flashed briefly across his face.

“One thousand dollars per day that he is held by me.”

I quickly agreed – too quickly I soon found out.  Arman was trying to determine how much money I had available to me, in the hopes it would soon be his. My quick response confirmed for him I had more to spend.

“And you must pay my men for their services tonight.  Five hundred each – two thousand total, plus the thousand dollars per day for watching your friend here for you.  And I want the first day in advance, so you give me three thousand dollars now.”

This time I allowed a pained expression to cover my face, hoping to convince Arman his negotiations were inflicting a sufficient amount of pain.  Fact is, it did hurt.  I hadn’t had ten grand in my pocket for quite a while, and a little over an hour after taking it from Talbot, over half of it was gone.

“Tell you what Arman, I’ll give you thousand for your guys showing up, but not the two grand because I didn’t ask for that help.  That was your decision.  And I’ll go ahead and pay the first day for watching Mr. Talbot for me, tonight as well.  So you get two thousand dollars right now.  Do we have a deal?”

I found that negotiating with Arman was a lot like negotiating with some political hack on the Hill.  In the end, if you meet them a little past halfway, you still manage to get what you originally wanted, and they walk away thinking they made you give up more than you would have otherwise.  It was all bullshit built upon bullshit, but that’s human nature, and that’s Washington D.C.

Deckler began to stir on the ground.  I pointed to him as I looked up at Arman.

“And what about him?”

Arman gave me a look with eyes that had turned more reptilian than human, devoid of all compassion, driven only by instinct.

“I told you, he won’t be bothering you any more.”

The thought of five men taking out a single, unarmed man left me more than a bit unsettled, even if Deckler would not have given me any more consideration than Arman was now giving him.

“Doesn’t seem quite fair you know.  All of you, and just one of him.”

Arman’s face broke into a wide smile, his eyes returning to more human tones.

“I’m Russian.  We don’t worry about fighting fair.  We only worry about winning.”

Arman pointed down at Deckler, who continued to move slowly as he regained consciousness.

“Tonight, I win, he loses.  This is good.  Good for me, and good for you.”

Hell, who was I to argue with that kind of logic?

18.

Before being dragged off by Arman, Talbot told me to call Silia myself to confirm she was ok.  He seemed sincere enough, but I figured he was also angling for me to try and make sure the Russian’s didn’t snuff him out like they did Tony.

“She was never in any danger Frank.  I’m not about hurting people. What happened to Walt…that was more their doing, not mine.  Things got out of hand.  I got scared, but Silia really is fine.  We paid her to tell you she was in danger because I thought that might convince you to hand over the information without us having to hurt you.”