CHAPTER FOUR
Friday, May 26
Stazi checked her phone before walking into the Violet Hour, which was one of her favorite bars. She was a bit early, so she sent off a quick text to Lucky, letting her know she’d be waiting inside. Once she was done, she turned her phone off and slipped into her purse because the bar didn’t allow cell phones. It was a small peculiarity that didn’t bother her in the least because they made some of the best drinks in the city. They also required proper attire and suggested you didn’t go with anyone you wouldn’t bring home to meet your parents. The place specialized in Prohibition drinks and had award-winning food, so if they wanted her not to wear jeans and keep her phone off, then she was totally on board.
As she grabbed a seat at the bar, she felt the cool gray interior soothe her nerves along with the soft light from the chandeliers. Waving to the bartender, she hoped to get a drink as soon as she could because ever since her meeting with the Ukrainian billionaire, she’d been jumpier than a cat.
When Greg the bartender approached, she gave him a big smile. “Hello, kind sir.”
“Anastasia, my love…how are you?”
“As good as can be expected. If you make me a Backup Plan, I’ll be infinitely better.”
“My pleasure,” he responded.
She watched him go to work behind the bar and let out a long breath. She was ready for the gin, Campari, and amaretto concoction more than she cared to admit. There were some other things in the drink, but she could never remember them. Watching Greg shake the drink and then pour it into a martini glass made her worries seem less tangible. Maybe the man she’d spotted following her half a dozen times meant nothing and she was simply being paranoid.
“That will cure what ails you,” he said as he slid the beautiful drink in her direction.
“God bless you,” she murmured before taking a sip. He gave her a wink and then moved down the bar to take care of the other customers. Looking into the mirror behind the bar, she saw how tired she looked, and knew her lack of sleep was due to the strange dreams she’d had. Before she could think too deeply about the one that involved her running away from an unknown assailant, Lucky slid into the chair next to her. “Hello, friend.”
Lucky leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then waved to Greg. She told Stazi, “Had a hard time getting out of the office.”
“You usually do. You’re indispensable to the company and I’m sure your boss appreciates you.”
Greg appeared before them and Lucky ordered an Old Fashioned, which the place was famous for.
“Speaking of my boss…are you going to go out with him or what?”
Letting her finger run up the stem of her glass, she shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
Leaning back, Lucky let out a groan. “Is this going to be something you deliberate about until the opportunity passes you by? Because if it is, then Hank is going to become a bear. I’ve never seen him so…I don’t even know the proper word. Maybe rattled?” Her drink was delivered. She took a sip and then studied Stazi. “Tell me, what’s holding you back? He’s educated, has his own business, and is kind, smart, and a war hero. Not to mention good-looking. There isn’t anything to object to.”
Stazi turned toward her friend and held up a hand. “Exactly. He’s perfect. Absolutely freaking perfect. It’s not something that I’m comfortable with.” The other thing she wasn’t comfortable with was the way he made her feel all jangly and out of sorts. From the moment he’d introduced himself and given her a frank stare, she’d felt the many layers of her defenses slipping away as they were atomized by the sheer shock of desire.
The fact that she hadn’t gotten those defenses back in place yet was worrying. Every time she had tried, the memory of the kiss he’d given her when he’d taken her home filled her vision. So, all she knew to do was stay away until she got herself under control.
Lucky let out a laugh and covered her friend’s hand. “So, you like him, but he scares you to death.”
“Yes.” Lifting her drink, she took a healthy swallow and stared into the mirror behind the bar again. The light dancing off the bottles reminded her of the luminosity in Hank’s eyes. When they’d stood in front of the Chagall windows, she noticed how bright and intense his eyes were. And when he kissed her under the streetlight in front of her building, she had been all but mesmerized.
Not that she needed to be thinking about that kiss. It had been over within seconds and yet it could very possibly have been the most perfect one of her life. “I’m too busy anyway. I have the trip to Italy coming up and a ton of work to do on the Modigliani project. It’s not the time to start something romantic.”
“You know that’s not how it works. Love happens when you have other plans.”
“I like how you go from mild interest to love in one motion. It’s probably nothing more than curiosity. Maybe he wants to dip his toe in the wild ethnic pool and I’m the lucky one who’s available.”
“This is like high school. You never believed that Steve Miller was interested. That poor polo player was smitten with you and you never gave him a chance because you insisted it was part of some bet he’d made.”
“Guys like Steve and Hank are never ‘really interested’ in girls like me. It’s like a visit to an exotic land that seems interesting at the time, but when you’ve been there a while you discover all you want is McDonald’s and not the crazy stuff that’s being served at the table.”
“Oh. My. God,” Lucky replied as she slapped her hand on the bar. “When are you going to figure out that the little girl I met in kindergarten with the perfect braids and beautiful dress who didn’t speak a word of English doesn’t exist anymore?”
Lifting her shoulder, Stazi gave her friend a smile. “Maybe not on the outside, but on the inside, she’s still there.”
“You are guilty of reverse discrimination. Anytime a man who doesn’t have enough vowels in his last name expresses interest, you dismiss him.”
“I will be sure to get upset about that…never.” Twirling her drink in her hand, she tried to pretend like Lucky’s words didn’t affect her. She knew what she’d said was on point. It just wasn’t time to do anything about it. “Hank wants me to take him on a tour of the public art installations, and said it was my civic duty to erase his art illiteracy.”
“Sounds like him. He’s not going to stop until you go out with him. The man was a SEAL. He doesn’t understand the words give up or give in. When someone says no, he hears maybe.”
Running her hand over her hair, Stazi sighed. “Maybe I should just go, so I can prove that I’m able to go out with a man who’s all-American and have a good time.”
Holding up her glass, Lucky waited for Stazi to lift hers as well. “You love nothing more than proving a point, so I suggest you go out with Hank and show me that you’re not prejudiced.”
Stazi tapped her glass and smiled. “You just want me to go out with him so he won’t give you a hard time.”
Lucky took a sip and then smiled. “That’s part of it, but he’s also a really good guy and I’ve never seen him so interested. Worst case, you have one semi-boring date. Best case, you spend time with a man who by all accounts is sporting a major crush on you.”
Greg stopped by to check on them and they ordered another round and some food. The medianoche sandwich was delicious, so that’s what Stazi ordered, and Lucky decided on the cheeseburger sliders. Once he left, Stazi decided to tell Lucky about the meeting she’d had yesterday and ask for her help. “Can you run a name through your supercomputer?”
“Of course.”
Seeing her friend’s worried expression made her realize how strange the request was. She had never asked her for anything like it in all the years they’d been friends, but what happened yesterday had her nerves fried and she needed help. “I met a man at the gala the other night when I was shilling for support for the Modigliani project, and I want to find out more about him. He’s a billionaire Ukrainian businessman and when he found out I was Russian, he asked me to evaluate some of his paintings.”
“That sounds like a pickup line,” Lucky responded while scrunching her nose.
“He’s in his fifties, and I didn’t get that vibe. I doubt that he’s interested.”
Snorting, Lucky gave her a get real look. “Yeah, because when is an old man ever interested in a beautiful young woman?”
“Okay, that’s not the point of the story,” Stazi replied. “He has a Modigliani and wants it authenticated and evaluated for damage.”
“How many of those artist’s paintings are in the hands of private collectors?”
“I have no idea. There is so much controversy over the original catalogue raisonné that no one is sure how many paintings actually exist.”
“Tell me what that is again.”
“It’s a comprehensive, annotated listing of all the known works of an artist.” She finished her drink, then wiped her mouth. “Modigliani is one of the most faked artists in the world. I could find a painting in an attic tomorrow with a letter signed by the artist and the authenticity would still be questioned.”
“So, tell me what has you spooked.”
“Yesterday I went to Mr. Firtash’s house for the meeting and the house was filled with men who looked like they were straight out of central casting for the Bratva. Big Russian mobsters were guarding the place like it was Fort Knox.”
“Okay, the guy likes henchmen. Not that strange if he’s a billionaire.”
“True, but one of the guys had crown tattoos on his fingers, which means he’s a boss. Someone like that doesn’t pull guard duty, so I figure he has some kind of business with Firtash.”
“When did you learn about Russian criminal tattoos?”
Crossing her legs, she gave her friend a smile. “My parents, of course. When you’re a Jew in Russia, it’s a good idea to know who you’re dealing with. I found it fascinating and did a paper on it in college.”
“So, the oh-so-proper Ukrainian billionaire is keeping company with some men from the Bratva. What else?”
“It’s not the mixing of business and organized crime. That’s practically a given in Russia. People with legitimate business mix with criminals all the time. It was the only way to survive for a long time, and that’s probably even more true now. What has me freaked out is Firtash’s intensity during the meeting. His eyes never left mine for a moment, and he was absolutely insistent that I was the only one he could work with.”
“Which goes back to my original theory—he has the hots for you.”
“Eeew, that’s gross.”
“It’s totally possible. Maybe he likes pretty young things.”
“If that’s the case, he can find someone a lot prettier and more compliant and agreeable than me. His interest seemed strictly professional. Like we were countrymen and I would, of course, work with him and do as he said.”
“What is it that he wants?”
“First, he wants me to authenticate the Modigliani, and then he has several Renoirs that he wants me to look at.”
“You don’t have that kind of power. Maybe he doesn’t realize it.”
“Possible. But not probable. I explained very clearly what I was capable of doing and I laid out what the company I work for does when they go through the process of evaluating a painting for authenticity. I told him in no uncertain terms that I was one small cog in the wheel.”
“So, what do you think he wants from you?”
“Maybe it’s nothing more than having money invested in a painting and not wanting to be made a fool of. What else could it be?”
“I have no idea, but we’re going to find out.”
“I used the bathroom before I left and when I came out into the hall, I heard him speaking to the man with the crown tattoos in Ukrainian.”
“Could you understand what they were saying?” Lucky asked curiously. “I thought the two languages were fairly different.”
Before she could answer, their food and drinks were delivered. Once they had eaten a couple of bites, Stazi answered the question. “First off, most people in Ukraine speak Russian. They were ruled by Moscow for a very long time, so pretty much everybody can read and speak the language perfectly. But to answer your question, the languages are alike. We use almost the same alphabet, a lot of similar words, and very comparable grammar rules. I understood some of what was being said and I think crown guy was telling Firtash he needed to use his plane to transport the merchandise. Whatever that means.” Stazi took another bite of her sandwich and then went on. “Then they got into a heated argument. The snippets I understood seemed to indicate that crown guy has something on Firtash and he expects him to cooperate.”
“Now you have me on the edge of my seat. What happened next?” Lucky asked before she took a bite of her food.
“I walked down the hall, and when I came into view, both men gave me a hard look. Which I assumed was because one or both thought I heard something. I gathered my things as quickly as I could, and as I was saying my goodbyes to Firtash, I heard crown guy instruct one of the thugs to keep an eye on me. They spoke in Russian, so I know I got it right.”
“Holy shit, that is not good at all because they had to have known you would understand what was being said. There’s no subtlety at play, which means this is serious.”
“Yeah, I figured that out already,” Stazi replied with a snort.
“Do you feel like someone is watching you?”
“Yes. I’ve spotted Ivan the Terrible at least four times today.”
“Who the hell is Ivan the Terrible?”
“The man who is keeping an eye on me. I just gave him that name to amuse myself.” Lifting her purse, she flipped it open, dug out a business card, and handed it to Lucky. “The billionaire’s name is Dmitry Firtash.”
“I’ll run his name and put together a dossier. By the time I’m done, we’ll know what kind of soap he uses.”
“I don’t need all of that. Maybe he’s totally legit and just likes to spend time with horrible people. Maybe I’m not being followed and it’s all a coincidence.”
“Let’s just make sure. If this Dmitry guy is keeping company with the Bratva, you should steer clear.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “I just need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“I’ll go in tomorrow and do a preliminary search. Then you can buy me lunch.”
“Thank you, Lucky.”
“I’m your best friend. If you asked me to bury a dead body, I would. This is easy.”
“Well, depending on what you find…who knows what will be required?”
Lucky knocked knuckles with her and gave her a wink. “The last couple of years at SAI have taught me a lot. I’m good to go on whatever you need, including getting some firearms together.”
“That’s exciting but slightly scary.”
“Just think…if you decide that you like Hank, you’ll have your own personal warrior. The man could probably slay dragons, take down Russian mobsters, and kiss you silly without breaking a sweat.”
The way Stazi’s face colored, she knew that Lucky was going to figure out something had happened the other night. When no questions came popping out of her friend’s mouth, she decided not to say anything. They had always shared everything, but for some reason, the sweet little kiss Hank had given her seemed personal. So, for right now, she was going to keep the magic all to herself. “All right, I’ll make plans with Hank.”
Throwing up her hands, Lucky said a loud hallelujah. “I have a good feeling about this, despite the fact you two have nothing in common, come from completely different backgrounds, and probably voted for different people in the last presidential election. There is something that sparked between you two and I, for one, would like to see what it is.”
“Glad I can provide cheap entertainment.”
“It’s what friends are for,” Lucky responded as she motioned for another round.
Thinking about Hank made Stazi smile despite her reservations. He was a beast of a handsome man and perhaps it was time to get over her prejudice. Lucky certainly seemed to think so and in the twenty-five years that they had been friends, she had never steered her wrong. With the exception of that awful haircut she’d suggested junior year. Other than that, her instincts were always right on.
Seemed she was going to go out with a man who made her nervous and uncomfortable—how bad could it be? Shaking her head, she decided not to make a list of the first twenty things that came to her mind.
Who knew…maybe she was going to be pleasantly surprised.