Tea Leafing: A Novel (33 page)

Tyrone wrapped a long arm around her as if to shield her from the cold.
“What’s a beautiful creature like you doing out here in the cold? Let’s get you
inside.”

With that, he whipped around and steered her toward the door.

Mary Jane flicked her cigarette onto the tarmac and followed a few steps
behind, quietly filling Tyrese in as they went.

CHAPTER 85

Not believing her shitty luck, Birdie shot an angry look over her
shoulder at the unmarked sedan with a flashing police light that had pulled to
a stop, opposite of her.

Joe strode across the street toward her with a steely look on his face.

“What the FUCK are you up to, Birdie?” he hissed under his breath.

 
“Warkin’.” She grinned up
at him, yellow teeth and all. “The clubs been slow and this is my other job.”

Joe grabbed the edge of the cart and looked down at the bags.

“Don’t fuck with me Birdie. What are you girls up to?”

Birdie squirmed and stared at his hands on the edge of the cart.

“Please, Joe.” She met his eyes
straight-on
. “I
can’t tell you. This is none of your business. Please don’t make it a problem.”

He searched her face for some sign of weakness he could exploit to reach
the truth. He saw none. “Let me help you get this back on the sidewalk and keep
your voice down.”

Birdie glanced over his shoulder and saw another man in the car. Joe’s
partner was staring off down the street, talking into a radio.

“Can’t get it back up the curb, Joe, it’s too heavy. Storage place is
half a block down with a ramp to the curb. That’s our best bet.”

Joe’s eyes burned straight through her, “Cans, huh?”

Birdie dropped her head and pushed the cart toward the ramp.

Joe walked along side with his left hand resting on the cart.

“Do you know how much trouble you girls are in? Do you have the
slightest idea who you’re fucking with? This guy isn’t some average sleezeball,
Birdie. He’s a serious player in a very large, very dangerous game. Killing you
four for whatever bullshit you’re pulling right now isn’t something he would
hesitate to do. Think about Lena for Christssake!” He kept his voice low but
the urgency chilled Birdie.

Nodding, she kept her focus on the bags resting in her cart.

“So this is revenge, huh?” Joe continued, “Greed. That’s what it is.
Just greed, plain and simple.”

Birdie’s head snapped. “Don’ yeh lecture me, Joe! What the fack do yeh
know about any of this? Yeh facked Lena a few times and now you are an expert
on who she or any of us are? Bollocks! Yeh don’t know shit! She was
my
friend. I loved her. Take your badge
and shove it up yer arse cuz’ your brand of justice is always a day late and a
dollar short. We’re not
gonna
grow old watchin’ you
bastards fack this up. We ah getting’ this killer the only way we know to
really hurt him. So, if you ah here to go all holier-than-thou on me you can
save it, cuz’ I’m not interested, copper.”

Two narrow tracks of tears ran down Birdie’s cheeks as she doubled her
efforts pushing the cart forward.

The two walked together in silence for a few yards.

“I can’t protect you girls forever, you know.” Joe’s voice was calm.

“Who’s askin’ yeh to?” Birdie softened a bit but was still pissed that
he made her cry.

“I’m just saying, if he comes for you girls, I don’t know if I’ll be
able to stop him.” Joe paused and moved his hand on top of Birdie’s. “I’m sorry,
Birdie. I loved her too even though I didn’t know her as long as you did. I
feel cheated.”

Birdie nodded.

The twosome reached the ramp in front of the automated gate of the
storage place. Birdie pushed the cart onto the safety of the sidewalk.

“We’re so close to nailing this bastard, Birdie. Are you sure you want
to do this?”

“We ah past the point of no return, love.” Birdie winked. The tracks of
her tears had washed pale stripes down her face, adding to the grimy look.

“Okay. We just have to link him to his associates and we got ‘em. We’re
so close,” Joe repeated, staring back at the cruiser.

Birdie removed a glove and rummaged through one of the patch pockets on
the front of her coat. Producing the thumb drive on a keychain she said, “Give
me yer hand.”

Joe held his palm out, close to the cart so an onlooker couldn’t see
what they were doing.

Birdie dropped the memory stick in his hand.

“There’s yer link. Go nail that bastard.”

Joe looked into Birdie’s eyes, this time tears welled in his own.
“What’s this?”

“A gift.” Birdie smiled.

Joe squeezed her hand in thanks.

“Don’t smile, Birdie,” he said. “It’s gross.”

CHAPTER 86

Slamming the phone
down, Fedya’s brow was knit with frustration. Thoughts of punishment and
revenge ran wild as he tried to calm himself.

How could Gio be so
fucking stupid? How does someone steal $2.1 million in cash right under your
nose? Fedya paced while he mentally assessed the damage. A few million dollars
wouldn’t make or break Fedya but the sheer incompetence baffled him. Claiming
he was drugged and unable to remember anything about the events, Gio sounded to
Fedya like he was just trying to cover his own ass.

Retaliation for such
carelessness, or worse, such disobedience would not be swift. He would make
sure Gio suffered. He wanted Gio to beg for death,
then
he would have the pleasure of killing Gio’s yappy Pomeranian of a mother.

Hitting the conference
button on his office phone, Fedya barked an order to his assistant to book him
passage back to Atlanta. He would leave tomorrow.

He sat in his
overstuffed leather office chair and stared out the window at the snowcapped
Urals. He tripped a lever on the underside of his massive mahogany desk and the
sound of hydraulics humming came from a bookshelf to his left. The automated
system pushed a section of the shelves forward then in front of its neighbor.
Fedya strode across the Persian rugs scattered over the hardwood floors and
into the safe room. Inside was a medium sized arsenal with weapons of every
description. Some were antiques, purely for show and others were cutting edge
technology, fitted with special sights, night vision, and extended clips for
holding extra rounds.

The room soothed Fedya’s
nerves more thoroughly than any drink or drug ever could. He breathed in the
smell of antiseptic cleaning solution and gunpowder. The walls were lined in
Rosewood. Special hooks and locking clasps held his most prized possessions in
plain view. Waist-high, custom-built cabinetry held ammunition of every make
and description. Guns and knives hung on the walls above.

He ran his fingers
along the steel barrel of his favorite assault rifle, an antique small-bore,
selective
-fire rifle with a detachable box magazine.
It had been originally designed by a famous Russian armorer named Federov
.
Colonel Federov. Fedya loved the similarity in their names and considered
himself a kindred spirit of the late master gunsmith. His eyes wandered across
the walls, admiring his impressive collection. Guns, knives, axes, crossbows,
halberds, and throwing stars were just a few of the things that made him feel
warm inside. His preference for killing with his bare hands didn’t limit the
pleasure he got from admiring his collection of killing machines.

He was lost in thoughts
of torture when he heard the muffled ring of his office line.

Growling under his
breath, Fedya stormed from the hidden room and snapped the phone from its
cradle. “SPEAK!”

The voice at the other
end was calm and quiet. “Hello, Patrushev-san, this is Keiko.”

It took Fedya a moment
to snap from his rage and realize
who
he was talking
to.

“Keiko, hello dear.”
Fedya replied.

Keiko was Seiji
Matsuda’s most trusted personal assistant. She had been a loyal and valued member
of his inner circle for years.

“ Patrushev-san, a
million apologies for the intrusion. Matsuda-san has asked me to call and
confirm the bank account numbers with you. I fear I must have made a mistake
transcribing them. The account I just checked does not contain the funds upon
which we agreed. I’m afraid I must have made a mistake somewhere to have caused
this confusion.” Keiko’s voice trembled ever so slightly as she recited her
message in the deferential manner that she habitually affected. Fedya was far
too perceptive to be taken in by the mask of powerlessness, a snare for the
unwary, behind which the real Keiko hid.

Fedya’s mind went
blank, not sure he understood, “Yes, Kiki. Do you want me to repeat the numbers
for you?”

“That would be very kind
of you, sir,” Keiko said.

Rifling through a
folder on his desk, Fedya repeated the Swiss bank account numbers slowly for
Keiko.

There was an
uncomfortable silence at the other end of the line.

“Keiko?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Keiko
paused as if choosing her words carefully, “Those are the same numbers I have.
I’m afraid there must be a mistake. The account only holds sixty five hundred
dollars at present.” The tremble returned to Keiko’s voice, “With all due
respect, Patrushev-san, is it possible there has been an error on your end?”

Flustered, Fedya could
feel his rage returning. This time, however, it was tempered with a bit of
fear.

“I will check on this
immediately, Keiko. Please extend my apologies to Seiji. I will be back in
touch with you within the hour to let you know what I find out.”

The two said their
goodbyes, and Fedya began screaming for his assistant before the handset hit
the cradle.

Fedya was not a man
well acquainted with fear. Every move and transaction was carefully calculated.
He was known for his accuracy and the thought of a miscalculation perturbed
him. He was operating under the assumption that a clerical error was to blame
even though there was a niggling thought in the back of his mind that something
much more serious might be wrong.

A winded assistant
appeared at the door just as Fedya’s office line began to ring again. He held
up a finger to signal the man to wait quietly while Fedya attended to business.

Fedya answered,
“Hello?”

Najib’s voice snarled
“What the FUCK are you trying to pull,
friend
?”

CHAPTER 87

Grace, Mary Jane, and Sam arrived at Denny’s well past the agreed upon
meeting time. Birdie sat in a corner booth nervously playing a video game on
her phone. She had changed into normal attire and washed the stage makeup off her
face in the storage space.

“Hey, Bird.” Looking thoroughly dragged out, the three collapsed into
the booth.

“Wheah the fack ‘ave you been? Nevermind me freaking out heah!”

“They searched us all before we left.” Sam rolled her eyes. “Like
someone is gonna carry that kind of cash out in her dance bag.”

“Hey, we thought about it,” Mary Jane said.

“And quickly nixed it,” Grace added.

Birdie closed the flip screen on her phone. “Did they tell you why?”

“Said they were looking for drugs.”

“Right. Did they find any?” Birdie snapped.

Sam laughed. “What do you think?”

“What about the DVDs?” Birdie asked.

“Mary Jane managed to slip ‘em to Tyrone and Tyrese before they left. We
would have been screwed if they hadn’t showed up. They said Tanya sent them in
to keep an eye on us and make sure we were okay. They saved our
asses
.”

“And how was Gio? Did that go okay?”

Grace moaned, “Oh lord, you’re enough of a sadist, Birdie. You would
really have enjoyed that part.”

“Thank you!” Birdie smiled, clearly interpreting the comment as a
compliment.

“The drug worked fine. Perfect, in fact, and we managed not to kill him.
Which was a bonus. Once the drug started to wear off and he realized they’d
been robbed, he kept it quiet. Wouldn’t let anyone in the office and ordered
the bouncers to search anyone going in or out of the club. He looked like he’d
been hit by a truck.” Sam kept her voice low.

“Sorry I missed that.” Birdie smiled.

“Oh, it gets better. When Gio finally left the office, he was checking
the VIP rooms and, from what we can gather, he found Pietra in some sort of
compromising position with Tyrone and Tyrese.”

“WHAT?” Birdie shouted with delight, causing several other tables to
glance over at her.

“All we know is that it wasn’t pretty. Gio was screaming like a little
girl.”

“You could hear him over the music,” Mary Jane added.

Birdie was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “Oh God, I’m so
sorry I missed that!”

“So what about the cart?” Grace asked.

Birdie took a few seconds, trying to collect
herself
.
“Yup. Bob’s your uncle.”

“Have you counted it?”