Fugitive (23 page)

Fair enough. Kate stood up. Thanks for seeing me. I know you' re busy, and I appreciate it.

Rose also stood up. No problem, he said as he walked Kate to the door. She handed him her card.

If you think of anything, give me a call.

Rose studied the card. Sure thing, he said. Allison will take you down.

On her way back to her car, Kate rewound the interview in her mind and concluded that she hadn't learned a thing. But something Rose had said nagged at her during the trip back to the office. Only she couldn't figure out what it was.

A manda stepped out of the hatch of the Gulfstream G550 and shaded her eyes from the sun. As soon as they adjusted to the glare, Amanda spotted TV vans, a mob of reporters, and Karl Burdett and two policemen standing outside the rear door of the FBO. Amanda stared at Burdett for a second, then turned around and glared at Dennis Levy.

What are they doing here?

We have to start selling Charlie's side of the story if we want to get the public on our side, Levy explained as if his betrayal was the only reasonable course of action.

Amanda shoved Levy back into the interior of the plane, forcing Charlie to take a few steps back.

You idiot. Did it ever enter that thick skull of yours that one of the reporters might call the district attorney to get his take on the return of Oregon's most wanted fugitive?

The DA?

Yes, Dennis. He's the gentleman standing with the two policemen. Burdett's probably here to arrest Charlie because he thinks I double-crossed him by calling a press conference to get our side in front of the public before he could.

I It never Levy stuttered.

If you pull something like this again I will have you on the next plane back to New York.

I don't work for you, Levy answered belligerently.

That is correct. You work for World News. I work for Charlie Marsh and I don't work for World News. If you go behind my back one more time I will advise Charlie to give Newsweek exclusive access to his story.

Levy paled. Look, don't do anything rash. I just thought the publicity would put Charlie in a good light.

I don't try my cases in the press, Dennis. I try them in court. And I know exactly why you stage-managed this media circus. You want to sell copies of World News and promote your book, so don't go all Mother Teresa on me about how you called the media to help Charlie.

No, no, I really wanted to help Charlie. I mean I know this will help me too, but that wasn't my main motivation.

Amanda decided not to waste any more energy on Levy. She looked over his shoulder at her client.

Not a word when the cameras start rolling, understood? If we' re lucky I'll be able to talk Burdett out of arresting you.

I' m not talking to anyone, Charlie assured her. The DA can use anything I say to the press against me.

Amanda stared angrily at Levy. At least one of you was listening. Now, I' m going to lead us off. You two stay behind me and I'll try to keep Charlie out of jail.

The crowd had surged forward the first time Amanda stepped out of the plane, and they were waiting at the bottom of the stairs that connected the private jet to the tarmac. Amanda paused halfway down so she was above the reporters.

Good morning. I' m Amanda Jaffe, Charlie Marsh's attorney. I' m glad to see District Attorney Burdett here. I want to thank him for agreeing to let Mr. Marsh voluntarily surrender tomorrow at his bail hearing when he could have taken him into custody today. It's always a pleasure when the defense and the prosecution can operate on a handshake.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amanda saw Burdett's face turn the color of severe sunburn.

Why has Mr. Marsh waited twelve years to turn himself in? a reporter called out.

We' re all exhausted from our plane ride and we won't be making any statements right now. I can say on Mr. Marsh's behalf that he's excited to be back in America and he is eager to have his day in court.

Why did he flee the country, Amanda? another reporter shouted.

This venue is an inappropriate place to try Mr. Marsh's case. The district attorney and I will both be in court and we'll have our say there. Thank you for being understanding.

With that, Amanda led her brood down the rest of the stairs. Karl Burdett stepped in front of her.

I had nothing to do with this, Karl, Amanda said before he could get a word out. She threw a thumb over her shoulder. That's Dennis Levy. He's a reporter for World News. He called the press without my knowledge.

Burdett was furious but he knew he couldn't arrest Charlie without looking bad. Amanda started walking, and Burdett hurried to stay by her side.

Your client dodged a bullet today, Jaffe. You'd better not try anything like this again.

I' m as upset as you are, Karl.

Amanda pushed through the shouting reporters, who obviously had not taken seriously her statement about not answering questions. Several of them followed her into the terminal. Amanda spotted Kate waiting at the front door. As soon as the investigator saw her boss, she left the terminal and started the car that she'd parked in front.

I'll see you at the bail hearing, tomorrow, Amanda told Burdett as she left the terminal. Thanks again for not arresting Marsh.

Amanda held the rear door of Kate's car open for Charlie and Dennis, then jumped in the front passenger seat. The reporters were still shouting questions when they drove away. As soon as she was out of camera range, Amanda leaned back against the headrest and exhaled.

G ary Hass sat on a metal folding chair and looked out the window of the abandoned loft at the Space Needle as he waited for Ivan Mikhailov to revive. It was a beautiful summer night, and the illuminated Seattle landmark stood out against the starry sky, but Gary was not thinking about the beauty of the moment. He was daydreaming about the carnage that would result if the Space Needle were toppled by a set of carefully placed explosives.

The Russian drug dealer groaned. Gary sighed, displeased that his reverie had been interrupted. Mikhailov was naked and secured to an uncomfortable wooden chair by duct tape in such a way that all of the places where Gary might wish to inflict pain were exposed. Gary waited patiently as Mikhailov became conscious and slowly figured out his predicament.

Good evening, Gary said. How are you feeling?

Mikhailov stared stupidly for a moment before his features hardened into an icy stare.

Do you know who I am? he asked in a voice that would have turned Gary's blood cold if their positions had been reversed but which he found merely amusing considering that the Russian was naked and helpless.

You' re Bob Smith of Omaha, Nebraska, aren't you?

Mikhailov gaped at Gary. Then he shouted, No, you idiot. I am Ivan Mikhailov and you will set me free immediately or I will have you cut into pieces and fed to my dogs.

Oh, shit, Gary said. I' m sorry, sir. I thought you were Bob Smith of Omaha. Man, did I fuck up.

Yes, you did, but you can save yourself by setting me loose at once, Mikhailov said imperiously.

Gary grinned. Actually, Ivan, I' m just playing with you. I knew who you were when I killed your men and Tasered you in the parking garage. You' re Ivan the Terrible, the violent drug dealer who's been poaching on Julio Dominguez's territory and beating up his dealers. Do I have that right?

You won't think you' re so funny when I skin you alive.

Will that be before or after you feed me to your dogs?

The Russian began struggling against his bonds. Gary watched for a moment before walking over to his captive and slapping him across the face several times. The slaps only stung Mikhailov but they were humiliating, and the ease with which the strikes were delivered emphasized his helplessness.

Stop that, Ivan. It's unbecoming. Besides, you can't pay attention to what I have to say if you' re twitching and jumping up and down.

Do you want money?

Well, duh, who doesn' t? But if you' re thinking ransom or a bribe, that's not on my mind. Julio already paid me.

I'll double what he gave you.

I' m sure you would, but I wouldn't be able to torture you if I took your bribe, and I' m in this as much for the fun as for the money. I mean, if you don't enjoy your work you should find some other type of employment, right?

Gary watched the Russian's face. The sweat that suddenly dampened his captive's brow and the way his pupils were snapping back and forth, as if searching for a way out, let Gary know that Mikhailov finally got it.

See, Ivan, you' re affecting Julio's profits and we can't have that. Before you appeared on the scene, Julio had a nice thing going. He's got a supplier in Colombia who's happy with him, a snazzy house, and plenty of pussy, not to mention the biggest television set I've ever seen. If you still had eyes when I finished with you I'd take you over to watch a game. Anyway, Julio wants me to make sure he doesn't have to cancel HBO because your shenanigans are eating into his bottom line.

Gary walked behind Mikhailov and wrapped tape around his mouth. That was when the Russian started to scream, but the muffled cries were barely audible.

That's why I gagged you, Ivan, Gary said. I knew you'd wake the neighbors, and unlike you, I am very considerate of other people.

GARY GREW TIRED of playing with the Russian after a few hours. The so-called tough guy hadn't been so tough after all and had ceased to be a challenge during the preliminaries. Gary would have killed him to stop his whimpering but Julio wanted his rival to suffer, so he'd plugged away, not really enjoying himself but earning his pay.

After tidying up, Gary made an anonymous 911 call to the police. Julio wanted the murder publicized so no one else would try to move into his territory, and he couldn't scare anyone if no one knew what happened to Ivan.

Gary was tired and not particularly satisfied with the evening when he locked the door of his seedy hotel room. The paint was peeling, the mattress sagged, the only window looked out on an air shaft, and the porcelain on the sink was chipped. The room was depressing but it was in a hotel where no one noticed anything, and he would be gone by morning.

After showering in the narrow bathroom, he turned on the television to see if the media knew about his handiwork yet. Gary was fully awake within seconds of seeing the lead story on the late news. Charlie Marsh was back in the US of A only a few hours from Seattle down the I-5. The same Charlie Marsh who had skipped out without paying Gary for the use of his life and who'd been sunbathing on some African beach, sipping pi+-a coladas, while Gary was compelled to scratch out a living getting rid of other people's problems.

Gary walked over to the window and stared down the shaft at the years of accumulated trash. He had no trouble imagining Charlie's broken body rotting down there.

K ate drove Dennis Levy to the bail hearing so Amanda could discuss the case with Charlie, but Charlie didn't feel like talking during the ride to the Washington County courthouse. He spent most of the time staring at the scenery with the window rolled down, even though Amanda's car had air-conditioning. The wind on his face and the smell of fresh air were physical manifestations of the freedom that could be snatched from him later that morning if Amanda couldn't convince the judge to grant him bail. Between his prison stretch and the psychological prison he'd inhabited in Africa, Charlie realized that he'd enjoyed very little real freedom in the past fifteen years. It made him wonder about the life he'd led.

Amanda worried about fighting her way through the crowd of reporters at the courthouse, but Karl Burdett unintentionally created a diversion by pontificating to the press at the front entrance. That made it easy for Amanda to smuggle Charlie through a little-used side entrance. She could have been angry at the DA for using the media to bias the jury pool, but she couldn't feel too self-righteous after yesterday's fiasco at the airport.

Amanda threw curt no comments at the reporters who were camped outside the courtroom door as she hustled her client to the relative sanctuary of their counsel table. Charlie had his head down, so he didn't see the slender African man in the back row of the spectator benches until he turned to watch Karl Burdett and a female district attorney push through the courtroom doors. Charlie experienced a violent urge to rush to the restroom the second he made eye contact with Nathan Tuazama. Then Burdett and his assistant passed between the two men. Charlie turned away quickly and shivered.

Are you okay? Amanda asked when she saw Charlie's ash gray complexion.

I' m just nervous, Charlie lied as he imagined Tuazama's eyes boring through his back into his soul.

Good morning, Karl, Amanda said as Burdett tossed his attachT case onto the prosecution table.

Burdett nodded but didn't return her greeting. Then he turned his back on Amanda and began organizing his papers. Amanda wondered why the DA looked tense when he had the edge at the bail hearing. Before she could puzzle out the problem, the bailiff rapped his gavel and the Honorable Marshall Berkowitz hurried out of chambers to take the bench. The judge, who was short and grossly overweight, wheezed as he waddled to his position on the dais.

Good morning, he said with a friendly nod to both parties. If Judge Berkowitz was intimidated by the large contingent of reporters in his courtroom and the publicity his case was receiving, he didn't show it.