Outsourced

30

The two detectives were in his basement. Resnick had already taken down several of the ceiling tiles so he could look in the space above them. Now he was walking around the room tapping on the wood paneling. The younger detective was sweating heavily as he searched through boxes that had been stacked in a corner.

Dan told Resnick that there were no hidden compartments. “If that’s what you’re looking for,” he added.

Resnick didn’t bother acknowledging him; he simply kept up with his tapping.

Dan checked his watch. It was two thirty-five. They’d been searching the house for almost three hours now and still had the garage and shed to go through. So far he’d been lucky – both Carol and the kids were out – but how much longer was his luck going to hold?

With that thought, a car pulled into the driveway. He knew it had to be Carol. Without saying a word, he went up the basement steps and reached the front door at the same time as his wife.

“You have someone over?” she asked.

“Let’s talk outside.”

As he led her outside, her face grew pale and drawn. She didn’t bother looking at him, instead she stared at Resnick’s Buick and the way it was parked so it had Dan’s car blocked in.

“The police are here, aren’t they?” she asked.

“This is nothing to worry about-”

“They think you were involved in that robbery,” she said. The look she gave him stung worse than if she had slapped him. “They’re searching the house right now.”

“It doesn’t mean anything-”

“What do you mean it doesn’t mean anything? They’ve been going through my dresser drawers, going through everything I own! I’m going to have to wash all my clothes.”

She stopped. Her face scrunched up as if she were about to start bawling. “Have our children been home?” she asked.

Dan shook his head.

“What if they had been?”

“They haven’t, okay? Look, this will all be over soon.” He tried to meet her eyes, but had to lower his gaze. “They’re only doing this because I worked on the security system.”

“You have to tell me the truth,” she said, her voice dropping so it was barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”

He forced himself to meet her eyes.

“Were you and Gordon involved in the robbery?”

“This is ridiculous. How could you even ask me that?”

“For the sake of our children you have to tell me the truth. Dan, please, tell me the truth!”

“I’ve already told you the truth. How many times do I have to say it? Jesus Christ. I’m a software engineer, not a criminal. This is all just nuts.”

Her mouth started to move, but she swallowed back whatever she was going to say. Nodding slightly, she looked away from him and went inside.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

He indicated towards the basement. As if on cue, rustling noises came from there. She turned towards the basement door, took a few steps and stopped. As she stood frozen her body seemed to shrink inward. She looked so frail and tired that it brought a lump to Dan’s throat. Almost as if she were moving in molasses, she started again. Dan followed her down the stairs.

Resnick gave her a short nod when he saw her. The other detective tried to say something innocuous and turned away when he saw the look Carol gave him, his voice trailing off into an unintelligible mumble. Carol stood silently with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Dan stood off to the side and watched.

When they were done in the basement, they next searched Dan’s workroom, then the garage and finally the shed. When they were done, Resnick walked the backyard searching for any possible hiding places.

“Are you satisfied yet?” Dan asked.

“No, not yet,” Resnick said. “Do you rent any storage space?”

Carol’s reaction gave the answer away. “Go ahead,” Dan told her. “It doesn’t matter. Tell them about our storage locker.”

She bit her lip as she looked at Resnick. “Two years ago we rented storage space in Andover,” she said.

“What for?”

“To hold some extra furniture. At the time we were thinking of buying a bigger house.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because the company I was working for shut their doors,” Dan said. “We thought we were going to make millions. We didn’t.”

Resnick gave Dan a hard look. “I’d like to see that locker.”

“No problem, I’ll take you there.”

Dan reached over to squeeze Carol’s hand. She pulled away and turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

Maguire moved alongside Dan. “You can’t blame her,” he said.

When they got to their cars, Resnick suggested Dan ride with them. “In case we find something, your wife won’t have to pay to have your car towed back.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Dan said, “but I think I’ll take my chances.”

Dan got in his car and waited until Resnick pulled his Buick out.

A blue BMW drove past Joel Kasner’s house. It continued another hundred yards before pulling over to the side of the road. Petrenko got out of the front passenger seat, stretched, looked around and was satisfied with the location. Nobody was going to hear the gunshots. Still, this would have to be quick – ten minutes at the most. No matter how isolated the location appeared he didn’t want to risk a local cop stumbling upon them. If that happened, the cop would have to be taken care of and he’d just as soon make this as clean a job as possible.

He cracked open the magazine of his 9mm Beretta, checked that it was loaded and slid the magazine back in place. Yuri got out from the driver’s side while two other Russians emerged from the back. Yuri moved past them and took a bolt-action ten-round rifle from the backseat. The other two Russians carried sub-compact snub-nosed pistols.

Shrini was taken out of the trunk and cut free. They gave him a minute to rub the cramps out of his legs and arms. Then Yuri and one of the other Russians dragged him to his feet.

“You are going to do precisely as I say,” Petrenko said, moving so he was less than a foot from Shrini. He showed Shrini his Beretta. “If you fail to do so I will put one of these bullets in your head.”

“I need water,” Shrini said, his voice raspy, barely a croak.

“Later.”

“No, you had me in a hot car trunk for over two hours.”

Petrenko put the barrel of his gun against Shrini’s ear. “I said later.”

“Go ahead. I’ll die anyway without water.”

Petrenko, annoyed, barked out a command in Russian. One of his men searched the backseat and brought out a bottle of water. Shrini emptied it in seconds, his hands shaking while he held the bottle to his mouth. Half of the water ended up going down his shirt.

“That is the last time you disobey me,” Petrenko said, trying to maintain his patience. “Now you will walk to your friend’s front door-”

“He is not my friend.”

Petrenko put a hand up to his face and shook his head. Slowly, as he fought the impulse to blow Shrini’s brains out, he continued, “You will walk up to his door and call for him.”

“How am I supposed to walk? I don’t have my crutches, and look what you did to my foot.”

“You’ll find a way.”

Shrini took several hops and collapsed on to the ground. “I can’t do it,” he cried.

“Then crawl.” Petrenko aimed his gun at Shrini’s head. “I have lost patience with you.”

Shrini made a decision then. If he was going to die, he’d just as soon see that peacock die first. He crawled. When he got to the front door, he pulled himself up into a standing position. One of the Russians positioned himself by a window. Petrenko and Yuri moved so they were on one side of the door, the other Russian stood on the opposite side.

“Now,” Petrenko ordered.

Shrini started pounding on the door. “Peacock, open up!”

There was some noise from inside the house. To Shrini it sounded like someone was running up and down a staircase. The Russian standing by the window nodded at Petrenko, then aimed and fired. The ricochet from the glass took off the tip of his nose. Then a shot fired from inside the house took off the rest of his face.

Petrenko stared blankly at the dead man’s body before realizing what had happened – that the window had been installed with one-way bullet-proof glass. His face slowly transformed into something not quite human as he knocked Shrini aside and tried kicking down the door. The steel-reinforced door held, his knee didn’t. Grabbing his injured knee he barked out orders to Yuri and the other man to get the car. Both turned and ran towards the road, both men keeping low to the ground so they wouldn’t be targets from inside the house. Petrenko watched them disappear behind some bushes. As he started to straighten up, Shrini grabbed him from behind, his forearm pushing hard into Petrenko’s throat.

In the position Petrenko was in all he could do was flail harmlessly. There was no way he could break Shrini’s chokehold. The strength of this person surprised him. As the world started to darken on him he fell to one knee, then the other and finally on to his stomach. As his head was pushed to one side he saw Shrini’s leg stretched out and realized that Shrini was lying crisscrossed on top of him, probably so he could brace himself.

Petrenko still had his gun. He moved his arm slightly from his side and pointed the gun where he expected Shrini’s injured ankle to be and then started firing until he heard the sound of a bullet hitting bone. There was a muffled scream. The grip around Petrenko’s throat loosened enough for him to break free. Gasping for air, he lifted his gun arm and shot Shrini two times in the eye.

Yuri arrived with the BMW. Petrenko pushed himself to his feet. Coughing, his face a deep purple, he ordered Yuri out of the car. “You,” he commanded the other man, “drive through that wall!”

The man looked at the house and then at the rifle barrel Yuri had trained on him. He shifted over to the driver’s seat, revved the engine and floored the gas, aiming the BMW to the left of the front door.

The car made it halfway through the house, both front wheels blowing out on impact. The Russian, though, trapped by the front airbag, was easily picked off by Joel with a single shot from his