Danger Woman (8 page)

Chapter Sixteen

Seven men sat around the room, their shirts open and sweat dripping down their backs. They waited. A fan hummed and helped move the air around a bit. Adjusting the air conditioning was on Leo's punch list. He would deal with it later. At the moment his problem, well not his precisely, but the problem he chose to share with Yuri, had to take precedence. Finally he looked at his watch and shook his head.

“I don't know what happened to Modise, but I guess we start without him.”

“Call him and ask him where he is and when he expects to be here,” Yuri said. He cracked open more beers and passed them around.

“Who's Modise?” one of the newcomers asked.

“The local cop who's running the show.”

“Where's Harry?” another asked.

Yuri did a quick head count. The man identified as Harry had slipped out to the washroom, but that had been twenty minutes ago. “I don't know. Maybe he fell in.”

The men smiled at the old joke and turned their attention to Leo. He shrugged and pulled a whiteboard from the wall and uncapped a marker.

“Okay, here's how it is supposed to go. Yuri, here, is the top guy in this Bratva organization. You all are his gang. Is it gang, Yuri? What the hell do you call Bratva guys? Never mind. The real Russian baddie is this guy Lenka.” He scribbled on the board. “He has it in his head that he wants to take over this hotel and apply muscle on the other Chobe River resorts. That would be these places especially.” The marker squeaked as he listed in order the main hotels on the river. “If he does so, the government will have a huge problem. They have made it a priority to provide high-end tourism in the area and if these or any other thugs worm their way in, it will be a hard sell. People like Lenka are okay with rich tourists, but they also like volume. More money and a quicker return.” Leo snapped the marker's cap back on. “The government, on the other hand, has a thing about crime in this country. They don't like it in any way shape or form.”

“You're telling me they have no crime in this country? I don't believe it.”

“I never said they didn't have it. What I meant was, they are really serious about keeping a lid on it and imported criminals is something they simply won't accept. Unfortunately, they tell us that Lenka has no outstanding warrants here or anywhere else, so they are stuck for the time being. Yuri, however, has a few old ones from his bad-boy days in Russia. The government, the cops intend to toss him out of the country unless he works with them to bring Lenka down. They didn't have much of a plan and it was pretty clear that if he did as they wished, he wouldn't make it past Wednesday. So, that's where you six come in. We persuaded the local cops to let Yuri run a sting. Instead of working for Lenka and ratting him out—that's the plan that guaranteed he wouldn't make it out alive—we convinced them to let him compete with Lenka. If the Russkie thought he had competition, say another Bratva
group, we figured, he could be drawn into crossing a line or doing something rash sooner rather than later. It's not enough to simply run him out of the area. See, Lenka could duck across the border into Zimbabwe and, as far as the locals are concerned, disappear. They want him gone for good.”

The door slammed open, bounced against the wall so violently that it nearly knocked the man standing in it off his feet. Harry had returned. His shirttail hung out of his pants. He had a red mark under his eye that was an hour away from becoming a magnificent shiner, and his knuckles were raw.

“Jesus, Harry, what the hell were you doing?”

“Greshenko,” he said, “Do you know a big guy, maybe had a mother who was a silverback ape or maybe a buffalo? Oh, and maybe this guy really doesn't like you?”

“I hate to admit it, but I know a lot of people like that. Why?”

“Well, this one is duct-taped to one of your blackjack tables, Mr. Painter. Jesus, did he have a left hook.”

“Are you going to tell us what happened, or what?”

Harry sat and took the damp cloth Leo handed him. He dabbed at his eye, and told them that he'd remembered he'd left his profile papers and passport in his room. He'd retrieved them and was crossing the parking lot when the door of a van slid open and this goon tried to haul him in. Instead, he's managed to drag the guy out and they'd had a scuffle.

“By the looks of that eye, I'd say it was more than a scuffle,” Leo said.

“Yeah, well…anyway, so before I slapped the tape over his mouth, I asked who he was. He says he was going to kill me the next time we meet and I says that will be never because he's going to jail. He is, isn't he? I hate to think he'd be roaming the streets. So, anyway, like I said, we danced a two-step and I had to tune him up some. When your cop shows up, he might want to have some face time with that dude. Where is the cop, by the way?”

“Late. Yuri, you might want to have a word with the man taped to the table. Maybe he would be better used to send a message back to Lenka. Modise would love to have this guy, but if we hand him over, the connection between us and the cops will be blown.”

“He and I will have a chat. You got it right, Leo. If we give him to the cops, even if we make it look like the cops arrested him, not us, Lenka will know and we're cooked. No, if we are going to be the people we pretend to be, this guy will have to go back to him in a Bratva way. We need to make sure Lenka knows that we mean business. He won't be happy. Maybe it will make him move sooner than later, huh? You call Modise and tell him what we got here and what we're doing. I'll be having my talk with the man. Did he say what his name was?”

“I asked and he just growled at me. Weird.”

“Growled?”

“Yeah, grrrr…Like that.”

“You know what you just did, Harry?”

“Growling?”

“No, to the man. If what you just said is what I think you said and I'm right about what that means, you just took out one of the most dangerous people in the whole Bratva nation. His name is Alexei Grelnikov but people know him as Gur, like grrrr. He is for hire and specializes in dismantling people on spec. Lenka has imported some very dangerous muscle.”

“Good thing I didn't know. He might have taken me, given that reputation. You know what they say, ‘ignorance is bliss,' though, I don't know, anybody who leads with a right in this day and age has to be less than current fighting-wise, you know.”

Leo called Modise and asked where he was, and told him what had happened and what they planned to do. Then he listened and shook his head.

“Won't work, Modise. If you toss this guy in the clink, Lenka will figure it out. If we are going to act like bad guys, we have to play by their rules. Lenka would not call you if the situation were the reverse, if Yuri had sent the goon. He would have used him as a messenger or killed him on the spot. It's going to be close as it is. A real Bratva cell would mess him up a lot worse. Cut out his tongue, broken most of his bones. Something like that, and dumped him near to death on our doorstep. No, we'll do it our way.”

He hung up. “Modise isn't happy. I think he thinks the operation has slipped out of his hands. Well, the truth is, with what's-his-name taped to a table out in the casino, I guess it has. Hell, it was just a matter of time before it did anyway. He's not dealing with poachers here or pickpockets and money launderers from Zimbabwe. These guys are really, really bad people. Okay, let's figure out what the message should be, bounce him around a little more and deliver him back to papa.” Leo sat and wiped his brow. “I'm getting too old for this crap.” He fumbled in his bush jacket for a cigar. “Who's got a light?”

Greshenko stood and walked to the door. “Leave this to me. None of you have the stomach for what has to be done. Okay, the message will be Gur. That's all. Gur in a bad way. Close the door behind me and bring that van around. We will deliver our message to Oleg Lenka tonight.”

Chapter Seventeen

While Lenka and his woman stayed in the Mowana Lodge, his lesser operatives had to make do with a modified warehouse on the edge of Kasane. It had been Botlhokwa's headquarters previously and Lenka had simply usurped it along with the rest of the former boss' organization. It wasn't that bad compared to, say, a rondeval or one of the dilapidated shacks that housed the transients from Zimbabwe. It had running water and rooms that had been set up to offer some measure of privacy. A larger room with a desk and chairs filled the front third of the building. It did not have air conditioning, however, and the noonday sun beating down on the corrugated tin roof turned it into an oven. Large exhaust fans kept it from actually roasting its occupants and by evening it became livable, or nearly so. A large cooler with bottles of chilled beer helped. The men who found themselves domiciled there learned early on to find a shady spot outside during the day if they were not out and about doing the boss' business. Unfortunately for them, most of that business was pursued at night.

It was early evening, the sun just dipping below the horizon, when the van Gur had driven to the casino earlier, its horn bleating, arrived with a squeal of brakes and scattering gravel at the front entrance. Before anyone managed to squeeze through the door to see what or who had driven up, the van door had slammed opened and the badly beaten form of Gur had been dumped like a sack of potatoes onto the gravel. Whoever had driven it to the warehouse had disappeared.

Greshenko had sent his message. Lenka, when he heard about it minutes later recognized it for what it really was: not just a message, a declaration of war. He had not planned on that. He had not planned on a battered and, for the short run, useless Gur. What had started as a simple takeover of a local wheeler-dealer's business had escalated to something bigger and more dangerous. If he accepted the challenge, blood would be spilled. Not just the blood of the odd person here and there who had become an obstacle to his plans as before, but the blood of people close to him and, quite possibly, his own. The icy winters of St. Petersburg began to seem more appealing. To wage a war, unlike extortion, kidnapping, and episodes of assault and intimidation which characterized his operation before, altered its scale and scope dramatically. Inevitably confrontation with the police must be part of it.

In Russia, he'd managed to suborn the police. Enough rubles in the right pockets and the police were just another business expense. Here, in this strange country, he had yet to buy any policeman. That wasn't entirely true; there were one or two game rangers who would look the other way at night for a price, but they hardly counted as police. He wondered if Irena had been right about coming here. Was this place worth the effort? Johannesburg would be so much easier. He motioned to Irena to follow him and they left to see for themselves what had happened to Grelnikov.

He drove to the warehouse. He had a decision to make. People like Gur were hired help. They worked for money and would sell their services to the highest bidder. Greshenko had sent him back. Had he bought him first? Could he be trusted now? Lenka could not remember a time when someone had beaten Gur. What the hell kind of people had Greshenko brought to the Chobe?

The warehouse had not cooled down much when he arrived. The men waiting for him were sweating and uncomfortable. They had cut away the tape that trussed up the bleeding Gur but he still lay on the floor gasping for breath. Lenka nodded to his next in command. Cszepanski poked at Gur with his toe. He moaned and took a ragged breath. Cszepanski reckoned he had a few broken ribs and one of them may have done some damage to one of his lungs. Gur gasped, coughed, and spat blood. Cszepanski tilted his chin at Lenka. Punctured lung. He didn't have to look for any other physical damage to know that this man would be useless for the next several weeks, probably longer, months even.

Lenka sat at the desk and pounded out an erratic beat on its surface with his hands. What to do? What to do with Gur? What to do about Greshenko? What to do next? Irena perched one hip on the desk and arched her eyebrows.

“So?” she said, “We lose a man. That is all. We change the timetable and move on.”

“Timetable…yes. Move it, but what of Grelnikov?”

Irena shook her head, raised an eyebrow, and rolled her shoulder. “Kill him and feed the lions. You can't take the chance.”

“Because?”

“Okay, because one, he is not able to do anything for you right now. He is broken and will be for a long time. Two, if Greshenko hasn't bought him and sent him back to us as an informer, he will be too timid now to do heavy work, the job you hired him to do, and three, even if he isn't either of those, he is the kind of man who will want revenge and go after Greshenko and then the police will be everywhere and we will be on plane to St. Petersburg. So, you get rid of him before he becomes a problem. Call our man in the park and dispose of him in the usual way.”

Lenka stood and escorted Irena to the door. He turned to Cszepanski. “Do it.” They disappeared into the night.

***

Cszepanski dismissed the remainder of the men in the room. When they were alone, he squatted down next to Gur. “You're a mess, old friend. I'm sorry I got you into this. The big man, make that the bitch, says I'm to kill you and drop you off in the bush to feed the hyenas. Okay, so you know I can't do much but, maybe I can buy you some time. Do you think you can walk a little?”

Gur muttered something Cszepanski could not understand. He helped him to a chair and poured a tumbler half full with vodka. “Here, drink this.”

Beaten and wheezing, Gur wiped his mouth on his sleeve and downed the drink in one long swallow. He cast a bloodshot eye on Cszepanski. “Okay, you kill me or give me chance?”

“A little of both, maybe. I'll call Sami Nkola, tell him we have a pickup. He'll bring the boat over from Zambia and pick you up on the river. If you live long enough to meet him, he'll ferry you across. Then you're on your own, Okay?”

Gur shook his head. “
Ну, спасибо, что вы
.”

“Don't thank me, yet. You have to survive the trip, the river, and what comes next, Okay?” Cszepanski refilled the glass, gave it to Gur, and called a number in Zambia. He helped Gur to his feet, stuffed a fistful of hundred Pula notes in his pocket, and walked him to the van. Twenty minutes later they were at the river's edge west of the Chobe Game Lodge's Sundowner Bar. Gur struggled out. He stood gasping for breath. Cszepanski removed the clip from a nine millimeter automatic, ejected the shell in the chamber and dropped them at Gur's feet. He handed him an electric torch.

“You'll need this to signal Sami. Good luck.” He drove off.

It took a great effort and not a little pain, but Gur managed to bend down and retrieve the pistol and clip. His half-shut eye made it too difficult to find the loose bullet. With a groan, he stood upright, slid the clip back into the pistol and racked a round into the chamber. He staggered toward the river. He found a tree to lean against and every five minutes or so he flashed the light toward the river. After a half hour, he saw an answering flash. Five minutes after that he huddled in the bottom of the smallest boat he'd ever seen and was on his way to Zambia. What he'd do there, he didn't know but one thing was certain; he would be back and Greshenko and that other man would be soon dead. Lenka and the woman, too. Cszepanski understood what he would need to do. That was why he'd emptied the gun before he gave it to him. Keeping silent that he was not dead meant staying alive yourself. Cszepanski would keep the secret. Cszepanski had a family somewhere. He would have to keep his mouth shut or Lenka would punish them and Cszepanski both. But the others? Gur would not take chances. He felt bad for Sami Nkola. He'd have to kill him as soon as he reached the opposite shore.