Road Rules Online

“Miel?”

Carlo Estevez tore himself away from ignoring Bill O’Reilly and looked up at Grazi.  He swirled his Scotch in his hand as she approached with the cordless.  “Yes?”

“Some woman from the FBI,” she said.  “Says it’s important.”

Estevez swallowed some more Scotch and enjoyed the bite of it in the back of his throat.  He reached out and took the phone.  “Gracias, Grazi.”  Into the phone, he said, “Estevez.  Go.”

“Lieutenant,” said a woman’s voice, “this is Special Agent Kennedy from the FBI.  How are you this evening?”

“Thanks to some fourteen-year-old Scotch,” he said, “I’m doing just fine.”

“Well, have another one for me.  I’m afraid your inquiry earlier has turned into a late night for us here on Lakeside.”

“Is that good or bad news?”

“My husband and kids think it’s bad, but probably good news for you.  Got a pad and pen?”

Did he?  Always.  By every phone.  He learned that the hard way his first week as a plainclothesman.  “Shoot.”

“I worked with the Ohio CID and Internal Revenue on this one.  Cossack Holdings is owned by a number of people, but the real money man behind it is…  Are you ready for this?”

“Maybe.”

“Andre the Giant, the big man with the big deals himself.”

Estevez found himself standing and rid of his Scotch buzz.  “Holy shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  I bought two used cars off that guy.”

“So our mysterious warehouse owner is a used car salesman.”

“Well, it’s a front.  We’re pulling a few dirty tricks to see if he’s laundering money.”

“How?”

“Where do you stand on the Patriot Act?”

“They ought to repeal the goddamn thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Right after we get done jerking this guy’s chain with it.  Got any vitals on him?”

Kennedy laughed.  “Right down to his favorite breakfast cereal.”  She read it off to him.

Estevez scribbled down everything as fast as Kennedy could read it to him.  When she finished, he said, “Thanks, Kennedy.  I owe you big time on this.”

“I may owe you.  This looks like it’s going federal.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Relax, Estevez.  I don’t get into pissing contests over jurisdiction.  You take the lead as far as you can before you have to hand off.  I’ll back you up however you want.”

“Kennedy, you’re a better woman than I am.”

“I’ll bet your wife’s glad to hear that.”

No sooner had Kennedy hung up than Estevez dialed another number.  After four rings, he heard a tired voice say, “Jordan.”

“Bob?  Carlo.  How’d you like to help me roust Andre the Giant tomorrow?”

Chapter 5

By seven that evening, Mason felt as though his eyeballs had been sanded.  After hitting Allied, he drove to the Justice Center in downtown Cleveland, mostly for appearances.  If he had to sit in one more room with Estevez or that sanctimonious prick from the bishop’s office, he was going to take hostages.  On the way out to the Justice Center parking garage, he called Deanna and asked if she wanted him to bring home a bottle of wine.  She wasn’t in.

Friday nights, she had rehearsal with her church group.  She played piano at St. Mark’s over in Guilford, even though neither of them were Catholic.  Fine and dandy, Mason thought.  Maybe he could drink Scotch all evening by himself.

No sooner had he left Deanna a voicemail than his phone rang.  He almost ignored it until he saw Koradovich’s number.

“I thought I told you never to call me at this number,” said Mason without so much as a hello.

(continue reading…)