CHAPTER THREE
Thursday, May 25
Staring at his phone, Hank willed it to light up with a response to the text he’d sent earlier. When it remained blank, he let out a low growl of frustration. Three hours was more than enough time for someone to respond, and the fact that Stazi hadn’t bothered the hell out of him.
Was he acting like a lovesick teenager?
Probably.
Did it matter?
Absolutely not.
He’d never done it before, so he figured he was due. When he saw a flash of blonde hair pass his door, he yelled for Lucky to come back. She appeared in his doorway, and he motioned for her to come in. “How is the Godard case going?”
“It’s going. As far as I can tell, the nephew is the one responsible for the hack.” Holding up her hand, she gave him a grave look. “But I haven’t ruled out a co-conspirator. The fact that the son has erased all his emails makes me suspicious. I’ve secured the company’s site and left myself a nice little back door so that I can monitor what happens in the next week. Someone is about to panic and when that happens, we’ve got our culprits.”
“Nice work.” Crossing his leg over his knee, he tipped back in his chair. “So…have you talked to Stazi today?” The look of incredulity that crossed Lucky’s face didn’t bother him in the least. He needed intel and she was his only source.
Sliding into the chair that faced his desk, she responded, “No, because she’s at work, why do you care?” Crossing her legs, she gave him the gimlet eye.
He decided to ignore it and asked another question. “Why did you two speak to one another in Italian last night?”
“My, my, boss…you’re full of questions this morning. I didn’t think you had any left, considering how you grilled me last night at the gala.”
He shrugged and then moved some papers around on his desk. “I like to have as much information as I can.”
“To answer the three-hundred seventieth question about Stazi, we speak to one another in Italian because she doesn’t want to lose her fluency. She learned the language when she spent a year and a half there after college.” Twirling her hair, she laughed. “Also, it ensures that few people can understand us.”
“Makes sense.” When she made the give me more signal with her hand, he knew he was going to have to answer her earlier question. “I was a little worried because I sent her something this morning and hadn’t heard from her yet.” The high-pitched squeal that followed hit a nerve in his brain he hadn’t realized existed.
“Oh. My. God. You really like her. I feel like we’re in high school and you’re trying to find out if my friend is smitten with you.”
The mocking smile that accompanied the statement wasn’t anything he enjoyed. Best to face it and just be honest. “Yes, Lucky. I like your friend and I’ve invited her out for dinner.” Crossing his arms, he gave her a look that suggested the discussion was over. Unfortunately, Lucky ignored it and fell apart in a fit of laughter. Was she snorting like a pig because she didn’t think he had a chance or was it because he’d admitted how he felt? Whatever it was had her almost falling out of her chair. “Let me know when you’re done.”
He tapped his pen on his desk and hoped to God this was going to be a one-time occurrence. A knock on his door had him looking up and he realized there was justice in the world. Sam Barton, FBI Director, stood in his doorway with an amused expression. “Hey, Sam, come on in,” he said loudly.
The sound of laughter that had filled his office ceased immediately. “Lucky, look who’s here.”
The odd expression Sam gave him didn’t bother him in the least. As far as he could tell, the attraction was one-sided, and Sam had no clue that Lucky harbored a little crush. “What brings you in?”
Lucky wiped her face and stood quickly. “I better get back to work.” She gave Sam a small wave and almost ran out of the office.
“I stopped by on the off chance you had a couple of minutes,” Sam replied as he watched Lucky scurry out. Hooking his finger over his shoulder, he shrugged. “Why does she always do that whenever I show up?”
“No idea, man.” Holding out his hand, he motioned to the chair. “Have a seat and tell me what you need.”
“I just came from a meeting with a woman who may need your protection services. She’s a distant relative to the current Capo di tutti capi of the Outfit and she saw something she shouldn’t have.”
“The same guys we met last year with Grady and Sara?”
“Yes, unfortunately, the Outfit has had a resurgence of power. We had relegated them to nothing more than bit players in the Organized Crime Division until they promoted a veteran mobster to street boss. Solly D is proving to be smarter than we initially gave him credit for, and he appointed Albert Vena, who’s a hell of an operator. The guy is bringing the Capos together in a way that hasn’t happened in years, and unfortunately, they’re rebuilding and re-establishing themselves. Along with what seems to be a stable hierarchy, the organization has capable capos in place. They’ll never see the power and influence they commanded in their heyday but they’ve been rejuvenated to some extent, and don’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.
“When we ran the op last year, I got the impression they were just a bunch of aging gangsters who had outlived their glory days. They barely blinked when we showed up and gave them the ultimatum.”
Hank straightened his pant leg and then nodded. “They don’t like publicity and that’s exactly what Sara was giving them with her interviews. They also had a street fight about to start with the Albanians. This new guy is something else and the last thing we need to do is underestimate him.”
Hank glanced at the blank screen of his phone and then back at Sam. “What do you need from us?”
“The woman who came forward with the intel doesn’t want to disappear, and I can’t keep her protected for very much longer. The only thing I can offer is relocation, but so far, she’s not ready, and I can’t assign someone to her while she comes up with an alternate plan.”
“Makes sense.”
“Unfortunately, the Russian Mob, also known as the Bratva, is using up most of my division’s resources, and I don’t have anything to spare. They’re the largest crime group in the world and we can hardly get our hands on them. It’s so fucking frustrating.”
“I didn’t realize that. The only time I’ve come into contact with them was when they were transporting opium in Afghanistan, and truthfully, they were the least of our worries.”
“It’s one of their many sources of income and, frankly, not the one I care about most. Unfortunately, our government is responsible for allowing them to find a home in Brighton Beach.”
“What do you mean?” Hank asked.
“When we expanded immigration in the nineties to Russian Jews, we saw the birth of Russian organized crime. Brighton Beach became the seat of power for a small but powerful group of people. Add to that the collapse of the USSR and almost twenty years later we have an extremely powerful organized crime group.”
Tapping his pen against the desk, Hank thought about what Stazi had told him last night. Her family was part of that wave of immigrants, and for that he was grateful. “Give me the particulars and we can evaluate what we need to do for your informant. Jason just came off an assignment and I can have him put something together.”
“Thanks, man. Grady protected Sara in a way that we couldn’t, and I don’t want anything to happen to this innocent woman who simply was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“No problem.”
“I haven’t heard much from Sara in the last couple of months, so I’m assuming she and Grady are settling into married life.”
Hank ran his hand over his face and let out a laugh. “I did a video conference call with him last week and he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. The man hardly broke a smile during the five years we were on platoons together and now he can barely wipe the satisfied shit-eating grin off his face.”
Sam let out a bark of laughter. “He deserves it and hopefully he’s making Sara wear the same damn smile.”
Hank nodded in agreement and hoped like hell he might have a chance at the happiness his friend had. It had never entered his mind as a possibility before he met Stazi, but now that it had, he could think of little else. His phone vibrated on his desk and he picked it up and saw Stazi’s name. Fuck yeah, he thought to himself.
“Guess it’s good news,” Sam commented.
“Hopefully.”
“I’ll send the file on our informant to Lucky and have her do her usual magic with it. Once she’s done, let me know what you guys can do.”
“Absolutely.” Sam stood and so did Hank. “We’ll do whatever we can. It’s a company tenet that we protect those who can’t protect themselves, and we take these cases seriously.”
Hank put out his hand and they shook. “I know. That’s why I came by. Having my hands tied by bureaucracy is not something that I can live with, so I do what I can to keep people safe. No matter how far it makes me color outside the lines.”
“Yeah, for a Fed, you don’t follow the rules so good.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. When I joined the Hostage Rescue Team, I had no intentions of ever having a desk job.” Lifting his leg, he showed off his prosthetic and grinned. “Sometimes, you have to adapt.”
“Do good where you can, when you can, whenever you can,” Hank responded.
“Words to live by,” Sam said before leaving the office.
Hank watched him walk out and knew there were few men as good as Sam Barton in the Chicago office of the FBI. Maybe it was his prejudice that made him think like that about a fellow warrior. But so be it. As far as he could tell, the guy had dedicated everything he had in the fight against evil. First as a Delta operator, then as a respected member of the HRT team, and then, after losing part of his leg, behind the desk, fighting organized crime. The moment the man wanted to leave government service, Hank was going to make sure he ended up working with him at SAI. He was exactly the type of person they liked to have on the team.
Picking up his phone, he held his breath as he read Stazi’s response. Hopefully, he would have dinner plans with a beautiful, interesting girl and begin to discover what it was about her that made him half-crazy. The sooner he could figure it out the better.