The Defense: A Novel (33 page)
Inside the hidden compartment of the case I saw two neatly folded piles of coveralls. They were gray, heavy-duty coveralls. They had a harness of some kind, like a safety rig, built into them at the waist. A thin but strong cable came from the belt of the coveralls, and at the end of the line, I found a snap clip. It looked as though the coveralls were made for rappelling. The first uniform was size 5XL, the second XXXL, the third a size large, and the last was a small; I could tell by the labels in the collar.
Beneath the coveralls I found four compact automatic rifles. They looked like MP5s. The weapons were ideal for short-range combat, and up close they could shred a four-hundred-pound man in seconds. The magazines were taped to the barrel of each gun with a single piece of duct tape. The last item in the bag confused me. It appeared to be a remote control for a model airplane. I guessed it to be a mixture of steel and plastic, about a foot square. It had a telescopic aerial, two controller sticks, and two buttons—one green, one red. I placed the control back in the case underneath the weapons.
Volchek had moved around the table to stand behind me so that he could see inside the hidden compartment.
“You didn’t know about any of this, right?”
His puzzled expression gave me my answer.
“What is this?” said Volchek, throwing a hand at the guns and outfits.
“This is proof that Arturas has been bullshitting both of us. He told us that I was the only man who could smuggle a bomb into the courtroom. But he could’ve gotten the bomb in on his own, anytime he liked.”
Shaking his head, Volchek moved his lips silently; it seemed as though this was too much for him to take in. He had built his life around the loyalty of his men. Indeed, his very existence depended on utter obedience, honor, and allegiance. He had seen other Bratva destroyed through petty jealousies and he’d taken steps to make sure he had total control over his men. Now those lifelong foundations were crumbling away.
Standing back, I looked Volchek over.
“You’re probably around the same size as me. You think you could fit into this?” I said, holding up the large-sized coverall.
“No,” said Volchek.
Both of us were at least thirty pounds heavier than Arturas.
“I’d say this was Arturas’s size. The big sizes are for Gregor and Victor, the little one…”
“Benny,” said Volchek.
With that one word from Volchek, it felt as though a key had just slotted into place. All of the questions, all of the inconsistencies in the case, and all the moves Arturas had made melted into one irrefutable thought: Killing Little Benny had never been part of the plan.
“Arturas is going to bust Little Benny out of custody. That’s what he’s been planning all along. Think about it. Little Benny could’ve given up the whole damn Bratva and walked into the witness protection program. He didn’t; he fingered you for Mario’s murder and nothing else. That’s because he was hoping Arturas would take over your operation. Arturas couldn’t kill you after Benny got arrested because he needed you. He needed you to show up for this trial so the prosecutor would put Benny on the stand. Remember what you said to me yesterday morning?
Even my contacts can’t locate Little Benny.
Arturas couldn’t spring Benny out of custody before now because he couldn’t find him; even your FBI man, Levine, didn’t know where Benny was being hidden. Arturas persuaded you to come to the trial and kill Benny with a bomb that he made me smuggle into court. This whole thing is his plan, after all, but it’s just to get you here, in trial, so Benny can be produced from his hiding place. If Arturas didn’t have a plan to take out Benny, you would never have come to court—you would’ve taken off. When Benny gets on the stand, Arturas is going to kill you, shoot up the whole courtroom, grab Benny, and run.”
“No. That doesn’t make sense. How could he escape?”
“He’s going to blow the whole building. That’s what the vans are for. He wants everyone to believe he died in the explosion, along with Benny, Gregor, and Victor. I don’t know exactly how he’s going to do that. The coveralls must be disguises of some kind. But that’s the only way it could work. The FBI doesn’t have manhunts for dead men.”
“That’s crazy,” said Volchek, taking a step back, his eyes moving around the room.
I tensed, and Volchek could see it.
The sudden realization that everything he knew or believed in was slowly unraveling set him on edge, made him dangerous.
He lunged toward me, but I was ready.
My foot caught him in the chest and punched him backward, sending him crashing into the padded wall. In one fluid motion, I grabbed one of the MP5s, twisted the magazine clear of the tape, slotted it home, cocked the weapon, and pointed it at Volchek.
He put his hands up.
Two knocks on the door, and we could hear Victor calling out in Russian. I guessed he heard some of the commotion and wanted to know if everything was all right.
“Tell him everything’s fine. In
English
.”
Volchek thought about it and finally called out, “Leave us. Everything is fine.”
We both waited for a time, neither one of us moving. Volchek’s eyes never left the gun.
“I could kill you right now, wait outside for Arturas, take him somewhere quiet, and have Jimmy’s man torture him until he tells me where my daughter is. But I’m not going to do that. I’m not going to kill anyone if I don’t have to. Arturas has set me up pretty good. The FBI are on their way to my apartment, and I think Arturas has planted something there to blame this whole thing on me. So we’re going to make a new deal. You’re going to find out where Amy is, and you’re going to release her to a friend of mine. We’re going to do this now.”
Volchek shook his head.
“You can’t go anywhere, Flynn. There are cops and guards all over this building. I think you’re still trying to double-cross me.”
“What are you, stupid? If you still don’t believe me, take out the detonator Arturas gave you.”
Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket and drew out the device.
“Light it up.”
“What? If the bomb in your jacket goes off now, in here, we’ll both be killed.”
“Just arm it. Do it.”
He hit the button to arm the bomb on my back. Nothing happened: no vibration, no light on the detonator. Shifting his gaze from the MP5, Volchek began examining the detonator while rubbing his brow and muttering in Russian.
“Toss it over,” I said.
I caught it one-handed, kept the gun pointed at Volchek’s chest, and slammed the detonator into the edge of the desk. A soft crack came from the plastic breaking, the sound eaten up by the padding on the walls.
Tossing the empty halves of plastic onto the table, I watched Volchek’s expression change from confusion to realization. It wasn’t just the detonator that fell apart. Volchek’s whole world just got busted wide open.
Sinking to his knees, he put both hands over his head. Fingers raking his hair, he swore.
“I told you. You’re being set up. The way I see it, Arturas is ready to kill both of us to rescue Benny. He couldn’t risk giving you the real detonator, just in case you set off the bomb and killed Little Benny. That’s the proof right there, in front you. He lied to you. He lied to me. What I can’t figure out is why. Why would Arturas take such a risk for one man?”
A deep bellow of laughter escaped from Volchek before he quickly shut it off with clenched teeth. He looked at me like I was stupid.
“Why do you think I cut Arturas when Little Benny betrayed me?” he said, raking his cheek forcefully to mirror the scar on Arturas’s face.
“Arturas had to take responsibility for his little
brat
,” said Volchek, spitting that last word out like it disgusted him.
That word again, brat, only this time it made sense. I’d overheard Arturas saying “
moy brat
” in a conversation about Benny. If Bratva meant
brotherhood
, brat meant …
“Brother. They’re brothers,” I said.
Volchek forced a fake smile and held out his hands, as if it were all too simple. Taking a second to appraise him, I decided Volchek finally saw the truth.
“Arturas persuaded you not to run, to come to this trial so he could kill you and spring his brother. You want to let him get away with that?”
“No. But I can’t trust you.”
“You’re going to have to trust me. Let Amy go, and I’ll get you out of this.”
“By going to the police or FBI? No.”
“We can’t do that. Kennedy doesn’t believe me. And you can’t rely on a single word Arturas told you. I bet there’s no plane waiting for you. You’re in as much trouble as I am. You can’t run anywhere, not with Arturas setting you up and not with a murder trial hanging over your head. We’re in this together, Volchek. There’s no other play here. We have to set up Arturas so he takes the fall for all of this. Let Amy go, and I’ll help you.”
He bit his thumb for a second and pushed himself to his feet. He was no longer questioning the situation. He had moved beyond that. Now he was thinking of a way out. He adjusted his pants and sat down.
“I cannot let her go. Not until I know I can trust you.”
I lowered the gun and thought things through.
“There’s nothing I can say to make you trust me. I certainly don’t trust you. Right now we have a common enemy, and that’s all we’ve got. Show me some faith. Bring her to me. I need to know that she’s still alive. I’ve got somebody who will take her somewhere safe.”
Slowly, Volchek shook his head.
“No. You get me off this murder. Then I’ll release her.”
“There’s no time.”
“Then there’s no deal.”
It didn’t matter that I was holding the gun, didn’t matter that I was the only one who could save Volchek from his own crew. He still held my daughter, so he had all the cards.
And he knew it.
“Are you sure you have someone in your outfit you can still trust?”
“Yes. My driver, Uri. He’s my nephew. He would rather die than betray me. He is blood. And Arturas has kept him away from the trial; he arranged for another driver for me last week. Arturas will have brought your daughter to my office. It’s close by. There’s nowhere else safe within driving distance. Uri will be there. He is the only one I can trust now. I don’t know who else Arturas has corrupted—probably everyone—but he would not even try to turn Uri against me. Flynn, killing your daughter does not benefit me anymore, not if we have a new scapegoat. Get me off this murder, and you will have your daughter. I give you my word.”
This maniac was my last hope. Amy’s last hope.
I had nothing else.
Pulling the clip clear of the rifle, I looked on the floor at the open briefcase left behind by the young lawyer, smiled as an idea formed, and said, “Okay. We don’t have much time. I’ll get the prosecution case thrown out. You get me Amy; then we’ll both get Arturas. This is how it’ll work…”
The wheels at the bottom of the case rattled as I jogged back to the defense table. Unpacking the files, I heard a commotion at the door—Arturas calling Volchek back out of the courtroom; the scarred man had just returned. They stood at the entrance, whispering. Volchek became aggressive.
Jean tapped her watch at me and mouthed,
Sorry.
She must’ve spoken to the judge and got a frosty reaction to my plea for more time with my client. Judge Pike was about to make her entrance and call back the jury. The witness, Officer Martinez, remained seated in the witness box.
I got up and walked toward the arguing Russians.
“Where is she?” said Volchek.
Arturas whispered his response.
“I want to speak to her now. The lawyer can get me off. I want him motivated. Get her into the car with Uri and get her on the phone, now,” said Volchek.
“He tried to screw us, Olek. We can’t—”
“Do it now, or I leave for the plane.”
Volchek was playing his part. Arturas must’ve told him about the hit on the penthouse at Severn Towers and his retaliation: shooting up Jimmy’s restaurant and recapturing Amy. Arturas couldn’t afford to let Volchek run; he needed to see his brother on the stand or everything he’d planned fell to pieces.
From his coat, Arturas removed his phone, dialed, gave the phone to Volchek, and both men stepped outside into the hall. I followed and kept an eye on Victor, who was looking at me suspiciously. The giant, Gregor, took a seat in the courtroom.
I joined Volchek and Arturas in a quiet corner of the hall.
“Uri, this is Olek. Take the little girl—just you, no one else—and bring her to the court. Use the Mercedes. Text me when you get outside. I want you to wait. I will give you instructions when you get here. Put her on the phone…” He spoke in English, for my benefit, as we’d agreed.
A hard punch to my ribs doubled me over. It was fast, discreet. The hall was virtually empty. Everyone was in the court, waiting for the trial to restart. Arturas’s face was a mask of hate. He tried for another punch, but I caught his fist.
“Even if your daughter lives, you will die today. I promise you that,” said Arturas.
I said nothing. He wrenched his fist clear, straightened his coat, and spat on the floor.
Volchek pressed speaker.
Amy couldn’t talk. All I heard were her terrible, uncontrollable cries. My stomach felt as though it were trying to climb out of my body, and I could taste bile in my mouth. In the background, I could hear Uri trying to calm her down. Amy screamed. Arturas wore the same sickening smile that I’d first seen the morning before. I tried to focus on Volchek, on Amy, on anything other than ripping out Arturas’s throat.
“Is she hurt?” I asked.
Before Volchek could answer, Uri said, “No. She just cry. I bring her candy?” Uri sounded as if he was a little slow.
“Yes. Get her candy. Calm her, Uri. Go now.”
Without Arturas seeing it, Volchek gave me a slight nod. He wanted me to see him playing his part.
I returned the nod. Time for me to hold up my end of the bargain.
