Near Miss

Chapter 30

Korolev woke with his arm draped over Lauren.

Last night, one drink had led to two, two to three, and three to a cab ride back to her place.

Lauren moaned, then stretched her arm and turned so she was facing him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, yourself.”

She looked at him, a mischievous smile on her lips. “I thought you might disappear during the night.”

“Not a chance.”

She laughed. “Oh, you are different. I thought you might be.”

“What? Did you think I was a love-’em-and-leave-’em type?”

“One can never know.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“I guess I’ll have to test you on that.”

“And what does your test entail?”

Her hand slipped between his legs, and she showed him exactly what that entailed.

Thirty minutes later, they moved to the shower where they gave each other a thorough cleansing.

Back in the bedroom, Korolev pulled on his pants, and then checked his phone for messages. He was pleased when he saw an email from Lauren’s contact, with the information he’d requested. “Your contact came through.”

Lauren straightened the dress she’d just put on and looked at her watch. “Three hours early, too.” She turned her back to him. “Zip me up?”

He did so. “I’ll pick you up for dinner later.”

“Yes, you will.”

Korolev opened the email’s two attachments on the taxi ride back to his apartment. One was the call records for Trench’s phone, and the other for Bozo’s.

The first thing he noted was that there was no direct contact between the phones. At least Trench had had enough sense to use a throwaway.

A number on Bozo’s list did catch Korolev’s attention, though. It had been dialed just hours before the explosion. Korolev was sure he’d seen the number before.

He searched his contacts and found that it belonged to Pike Larson, an area arms dealer. He called the number.

“Hello?” The voice that answered was gruff.

“Mr. Larson, how are you today?”

“Who is this?”

“We’ve met before. Leonid Korolev. I work for the Greek.”

“Mr. Korolev,” Larson said, his tone suddenly solicitous. “What can I do for you?”

“Two days ago, you had a call from a man named Thomas Bozeman. You may know him as Bozo.”

“Uh, yeah. He called. Why?”

“What did you talk about?”

“Hey, I respect you and the Greek and all you guys, but my work depends on confidentiality.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that Bozo is dead.”

“I might have heard that.”

“So, there’s no confidentiality to be kept.”

“Well, I, um...”

“Bozo did not die alone. The Greek’s nephew was in the car with him.”

“Wait! All I did was provide the device. I didn’t set it off.”

“Then it would be in your best interest to talk to me.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

The rest of the story fell into place over the next few hours. When Korolev was confident he had all the facts, he called the Bean Counter.

Lauren answered the phone. “Hello, handsome.”

“Good afternoon, gorgeous.”

“Is this a social call or business?”

“Business, I’m afraid. I need to see the boss. Is he in?”

“Not at the moment, but he should be here in an hour.”

“Can I see him then?”

“You can, or you can come now and wait until he gets here. I’m sure there’s something I could find for you to do.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Trench killed himself with his own bomb?” the Bean Counter said. Gromyko was not going to like this.

“He did.”

“How?”

“This Bozo character used some rookies to distract the driver of Trench’s intended target, presumably to plant the bomb. Why it was still in the car Trench was in is a mystery.”

“Did you find out who he was trying to kill?”

“At least two people, perhaps three. One is a woman he’d dated named Matilda Martin. The other is a lawyer she apparently took up with after Trench. There was a third person with them that night, not counting the driver, but I don’t know her name yet.”

“Trench’s immature jealousy strikes again. Who was the attorney?”

“Stone Barrington. He’s a partner at—”

“Barrington?” the Bean Counter said, cutting him off. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. Why? Do you know him?”

“Of course, I know him. You should, too.”

Korolev’s brow creased.

“Barrington is the one who killed Serge Gromyko.”

Korolev blinked. He’d been on an assignment in Las Vegas when the first Greek had been killed, so he hadn’t heard all the details.

“You’re absolutely positive it’s him?” the Bean Counter asked.

“One hundred percent.”

“Dammit!”

Trench had been an idiot to the end. If he wasn’t already dead, the Bean Counter would have killed him himself.

Things had finally calmed down where Barrington was concerned. With Alexei now in charge — and, in effect, the Bean Counter — business was running smoothly, and most importantly, profits were up. Any renewed thoughts of revenge against the attorney put all that at risk.

“What about the woman? Melinda...?” he asked.

“Matilda Martin.”

“What about her? Where is she?”

“From what I’ve learned, she’s been staying with Barrington.”

The Bean Counter cursed under his breath. “She must have her own place.”

“She does.”

“Put a team together and stake it out. She’ll have to show up sometime.”

“And when she does?”

“Bring her to me. And whatever you do, stay away from the lawyer. Do not cross paths with him.”

If the Bean Counter played it right, he could use the woman as a sacrificial lamb to Gromyko and avoid the topic of Stone Barrington altogether.

“Yes, sir.”

“And, Leonid, not a word about anything you’ve told me to anyone. Just tell them she is someone of interest.”

“I understand,” Korolev said.

He exited the Bean Counter’s office and shut the door.

“Everything okay?” Lauren asked. “It sounded a little tense.”

“Some news he wasn’t expecting.”

She wanted to ask him more, but she could get that from him later. She walked to him and played a finger down his chest. “Still on for dinner? Or should I look for other plans.”

“Still on. I just need to set something up for the boss first, so I might be a little late.”

She pushed up on her tippytoes and kissed him. “You know it’s not good to keep a girl waiting too long.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See that you do.”

Later that night, after Korolev had fallen asleep in her bed, Lauren tiptoed into the bathroom with her phone.

She had been involved in the organization for years, joining back when the Pentkovskys had been in charge, and had served as secretary to the youngest Pentkovsky, Egon, until the Bean Counter took over the role of mob CFO. And while she considered the Bean Counter a decent enough boss, she was less pleased with the Greek, both former and current.

In her mind, Egon — who now went by the name Peter Greco for safety reasons — should have been offered the top job instead of Gromyko. She had not given up hope of that happening one day.

To that end, she had been keeping him up to date on organization politics. It had been a week since she’d last contacted him, and a lot had happened in that time. Things that could directly affect him. Specifically, that the Greek was on the warpath in the wake of Trench’s death. She thought it likely he’d take out his anger on the wayward Peter Greco. The Greek already considered him a threat, simply for being the brother of the family’s first leader, Anton Pentkovsky. Now, with Peter slipping away from the family, who knew what the Greek might do?

She wrote a long text, and included the information that the Bean Counter had learned Stone Barrington was somehow involved with Trench’s demise but was holding off passing that information along to the Greek for the time being.

Once satisfied that she’d covered everything, she sent the text, then returned to the warmth of her bed.