Enforcer (29 page)

“The truly interesting thing is that once this information started crossing over into other departments, flags started being raised here or there, and it seems the DEA themselves were interested in Travis. They’d tasked the IDES to keep track of him, standard procedure, but normally that’s not a worry either. The man coming up missing is where the DEA software or some analyst will realize the connection, and word will come down the pipe to take a closer look at things.”

“Shit,” Connor said again. “But they won’t find anything, will they?” He thought of the body being dumped from the bucket of the loader onto the conveyor belt, then the body rolling off the belt into the incinerator.

“Unlikely,” Petre answered. “Dracul is very thorough, and the system of disposal you used means there’s zero chance of them finding any evidence through physical means.”

Connor bristled at the way Petre lumped him in with Dracul, as if Connor had gone along willingly and actively participated in the actual murder itself. He also didn’t like the Petre who was talking to him, the one who still had an accent, but not nearly as thick or ridiculous as before. He wondered once again who the man was.

“Then what’s the problem? So a dope dealer disappears. It isn’t like that hasn’t ever happened before,” Connor said.

“True, but the DEA had a flag on him. The IDES had a flag on him. Local drug squads more than likely had a flag on him. If the IDES people had a track request for a year, they might be able to walk backwards and find people that Travis associated with. It is unlikely that any would lead directly back to Mr. Ojacarcu, he is too careful for that.

“However, dealers in certain areas know other dealers. They network either as associates or as competitors. They know who helps them move product, and they know who moves product around them, with strict boundaries set by Mr. Ojacarcu. Fighting amongst themselves is bad for business.”

“Larry,” Connor said.

“Yes, he is one possibility. He’s in Caldwell, and Travis was from Boise, so the possibility of connection is low, but still there.”

“You think they’ll dig that deep?” Connor asked.

“I don’t know. But it is one of the reasons making someone disappear in such a small place like this is dangerous. Even lowlifes like Larry or Travis.”

Connor’s memory of Travis was much different than what his memories of Larry were. He’d thought Travis was one of them, along to help complete a job, not the victim he turned out to be. Larry, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of shitbag Connor expected would end up disappearing one day. If not disappearing to jail, he’d end up riding the conveyor or screaming in a pine box six feet underground until his oxygen ran out.

“We need to be careful for a while. We should be careful all the time, but right now it is important to not attract any kind of attention,” Petre told him.

“What’s with you?” Connor asked him. “What’s with this sudden ability to talk in English without mangling it?”

“You are mistaken,” Petre said. “My English is always good. Maybe as friend you finally notice?”

“Bullshit,” Connor said angrily. “You can go on believing you are fooling me with that shit, but you aren’t who you say you are. Or you are, but have been lying to me, playing me since I’ve met you. Doing shit that friends don’t do to each other.”

“I am your friend,” Petre said solemnly. “I am Petre Diaconescu. I have your other friend out in car, driving her around for you to sex your woman without interference.”

*****

“So what was it?” Dana asked when he came back two hours later.

“Nothing,” Connor lied.

“Connor,” she said, her face growing sad, “this isn’t going to work out if you just keep lying to me. You don’t spend two hours meeting a henchman who can’t postpone it until tomorrow and talk about nothing. ‘Hey friend, how was the soccer game?’” she said with a deep voice, imitating him. “‘
It was great game, comrade
.’” Her imitation of Petre was so awful that it made him laugh.

“Okay,” he said, sitting on the small couch with her. “He says the police might be looking into some of Ojacarcu’s business, so we have to be extra careful.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Of course I am. I’m stuck doing ‘work’ for the guy. I’m locked into a contract, and I’m locked in because of some other shit, like Jera.”

Dana scowled at the woman’s name. They’d never met, but Connor had described Jera enough to make her sure she’d hate the woman.

“I meant are you in trouble right now? Are the cops looking for you? Or looking into what you are doing?”

“No. It has nothing to do with me, or even Petre. But it has something to do with someone else who is connected to all of this. The main point of it is that the police are always interested in what goes on in the background that isn’t legal, but for some reason they are actively interested in someone that is connected.

“If the top of the tower topples, then it could be bad for everyone underneath the boss. But being Romanians, with ties to the old country, the top guys never talk. It’s some code, like the Italian mafia has, except the Romanians and the Hungarians and the Russians, the real gangsters, they never talk. Never.”

“Do you think they’d come after you just because you aren’t one of them? To make sure you couldn’t ever snitch on them?” Dana looked worried.

He draped his arm around around her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “No, they won’t mess with me. I’m small fish, and they know, Ojacarcu does anyway, that if I get any stain on my criminal record, I’ll get deported back to Canada, and I’ll never be able to play organized hockey again. They also know, and this part is true for sure, that I know they’d have me killed if I knew something that could sink them all.

“I’m stuck choosing between losing everything in my life that I care about, like you, hockey, being in America instead of on a frozen plain in the middle of Saskatchewan, and losing all of that plus my life. I know they’d also go after my family as well as anyone here I cared about. Including you. Which is why I want to get the fuck out of here as soon as I can. I want you to go with me.

“I hate living like this, like you’re a secret girlfriend that I can’t let my wife know about. I love you, and I’m tired of sneaking around, always watching my back to try and make sure they don’t know about you. I’m sure they do know about you, though. They seem to know more than they should about a lot of people, and since I’m someone that does less than legal work for them… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too fucking paranoid anymore.”

“Did you just say…?” she asked, unable to finish the question.

“Oh shit,” he said, turning red.

“‘Oh shit’ is not really what I was hoping to hear as a response to that.”

“No, I mean… I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t mean… I love you. Okay? I’m sorry. But I do.”

“Why are you sorry?” she asked.

“I don’t mean that I’m sorry. I… please don’t do this to me,” he begged.

“Connor, I want to tell you that I feel the same way,” she said gently, cupping his cheek and turning his face to be able to look into his eyes. “I really do. But I’m too scared right now. I’m not happy sneaking around either. I’m even less happy that you work for a person who deals drugs and has prostitutes and God-knows-what-else going on. I’m scared for you because you aren’t one of them, and even if you were, they don’t play by any rules but their own. People like that are more interested in survival than they are in loyalty.”

His heart felt like it had been ripped out of his chest, thrown into the dirt, and then crushed under a boot heel. He understood perfectly why she was afraid. He lived the fear every day. She didn’t know about Dracul and Travis, about Jera, about the things he really did for Ojacarcu. He was upset that he had slipped and said the words, words that he wouldn’t hear repeated back to him. It was his own fault.

CHAPTER 24

Connor sat in the Lincoln, passing time surfing the web on his phone. Jera still had twenty minutes before he would have to go knocking. Only a few clients had gone over the time limit, and none of them had ever done it twice. He was sure that while imposing, threatening even, he was just the face of the real threat that men feared. Arguing with Connor would be the same as arguing with Petre, Dracul, even Ojacarcu.

He typed Travis’ name into the search box. It had become another habit, much like his constant typing then erasing before sending a message to Dana. Just like every day for the last two weeks, he debated tapping the button that would execute the search. Petre had told him to be careful, and that he was sure the increased attention would die down when no signs of Travis or foul play were found.

Connor had no idea if the cops or the feds watched out for things like internet searches and phone records like they did in the movies. In the movies, the authorities always pulled the information in real time, or just a few seconds before
the event
, so the hero could make a valiant struggle to get in place before everything went to hell. He also remembered a few shows where criminals had been interviewed while serving their sentences. A lot of them talked about how they were always so smart, so careful, but the one time they slipped up is what got them caught.

What usually followed was a lot of forensic evidence and deep investigation, but the entire case got tied up in a neat little bow for a jury almost every time. He had no idea if the local cops, or even the feds, were really interested in anything Ojacarcu was up to, let alone himself. As far as everyone knew, Connor Dunsmore was a hockey player. The company books would say the same thing, as would his player contract with the team and the league. His side job didn’t come with check stubs and taxpayer identification numbers.

But it was always the one time the idiot criminal slipped up that got him caught, sometimes got a whole lot of people caught. Connor wouldn’t cry himself to sleep if Ojacarcu, and especially Dracul, found their way into a prison cell, or maybe a hole in the ground, but he didn’t want to be the one who started the domino effect. He spent most of his spare time thinking of how to extricate himself from all of it before it went bad, one way or another, for everyone else.

Jera’s approach caught his attention, and instead of pressing the search button, he erased the name and closed the browser. He didn’t want to be
that guy
that everyone else laughed at and gangsters hunted down for being the dumbass.

“Where to?” he asked her before she could get her seatbelt fastened.

“Nowhere until ten tonight,” she answered.

“Okay. I’ll take you home. I’ve got stuff to do,” he said, thinking of Dana.

Jera stayed quiet during the ride, staring straight ahead. He glanced at her a few times, trying to decide whether or not to ask her if she was feeling all right. They pulled up in front of her apartment building just as the dashboard clock turned to 2:00. Normally she would exit the car the second the wheels came to a stop at the curb, but she didn’t make a move to open the door.

“Can I go with you?” she finally asked.

“Go where?”

“I don’t care. Wherever you are going. I’ll change into something normal and you can do whatever you need to do. I won’t get in your way.” Jera’s eyes were pleading, but the rest of her face remained defiant, angry.

“Listen, no offense,” he said, “but I don’t really want you around where I’m going.”

“Why not?” she asked, becoming defensive, insulting. “You snorting some good dope? Maybe gamble a little? Got a whore you’d rather pay than me? What’s wrong with me, not good enough for you? Too brown for you?”

“Please shut up. This is why I don’t want you with me. You’re a petulant little child who turns into a bitch when you don’t get your way, or you cry your little eyes out until someone, unfortunately me lately, pays attention to you.”

“I’m not a child.” Jera looked away.

“Yes, you are. I hate to bring this up yet again, but I’ve saved your ass twice now. Twice I could have let you down, let you get hurt, and twice I bailed you out. Instead of at least being civil with me, all you do is act like an ungrateful crybaby. One that throws tantrums and screams incoherently. I’m not asking to be your friend, but I would like you to remember who is the only one in a long time that has treated you like a friend.”

She began to cry, silently at first, slowly building into a crescendo of shudders and sniffles. Connor stared impassively at her, not buying the act, hoping it wasn’t an act and she was waking up to reality. He realized even if she was finally catching on, it would only last a day, two at the most. He’d been down this road with her before.

“Look, good cry and all, but I’ve got things to do. So kindly cut the shit and tell me what you want, or get the fuck out of the car,” he said when she finally wound down to a slow trickle of tears.

“Please,” she said, almost begged. She wouldn’t look at him

“Please what?”

“Please, let me go with you. I don’t want to be here alone until the next job. I promise I won’t be a bitch, and I’ll stay out of your way.”

“I can’t take you with me where I’m going. I can drop you off somewhere, a bookstore or coffee bar if you want.”

“Where are you going that you can’t take me? I said I would change into something normal.”