Hijack in Abstract (A Cherry Tucker Mystery) (28 page)

With a foreign exclamation of shock, Yuri jumped to the side and opened the door.

I traipsed through the doorway acting the air of someone who had no idea the person standing before them had robbed and killed another man at gunpoint. The door swung shut behind me. I glanced right, then ran left to Miss David’s office.

Before I called the police, I wanted to see those files.

Thirty-Seven

Miss David’s office door stood open. I raced inside, grabbed the first file, and glanced at the name. Samuil Rybek. I tossed it to the side and looked at the next. Anatoly Navitski. I pawed through the rest, but the names meant nothing to me. Perhaps they worked at other SipNZips Max owned. If the Department of Labor was involved, someone had blown the whistle on the workers. Not surprising, considering the terrible hours they worked. Not to mention the illegal stocking of food from possibly hijacked trucks. Max and Yuri must have been working together.

My gut hurt. So did my heart.

I snagged Little Anatoly and Sam’s files, shoved them in my bag, and took off again. Flying out the front door, I danced in the circle drive and tried to jog my brain into a quick plan of action. The gargantuan Hummer sat in the driveway. One of Max’s many vehicles. I tried the door handle. Locked.

“Why are you trying to run? Call the police, you idiot,” my brain screamed.

I pulled my phone from my satchel and glanced at the house. Atlanta police would arrive quickly to make Yuri’s arrest. They might bring in the Fulton County Sheriff’s Department, too. A lot of back up would be needed for a man who shot an innocent truck driver and a witness in cold blood. Rupert and Max could be held in a standoff situation. Panicked, desperate men took hostages. Happens all the time, particularly in domestic violence situations.

Oh hell, I’ve got to get the innocent people out of the house, I thought. Did Rupert have any more servants?

I ran toward the garage and dialed Luke’s number.

“Can’t talk. We found Sharp. You’re safe,” said Luke and hung up.

“Shit,” I screamed at the phone. “I am not safe.” The garage doors were shut. I kicked the door and cussed Nik for not showing up on the day I needed him.

I dialed 9-1-1 and chugged my little legs back up the hill toward the front door.

“What is your emergency?” said the dispatcher.

“I’m at Rupert Agadzinoff’s house. His nephew, Yuri, is the perp who hijacked and killed the driver of a Dixie Cake truck as well as Tyrone Coderre, a copper thief.”

“Slow down. What is your emergency?”

“Too long to explain. There’s a suspected felon at 4201 Northside Drive. Possibly armed. Could turn into a hostage situation. Send a team.”

“A crime has taken place?”

“Mr. Agadzinoff is harboring a fugitive and doesn’t know it. This is taking too long,” I shouted. “I’ve got to get people out of this house. Call the Forks County Sheriff’s Office and get the back story. Just send a team to this address.”

I shoved the phone in my pocket and catapulted the steps to the front door. Cracking the door open, I peeked inside. Yuri mounted the grand staircase, a gun in his hand. Most likely on his way to visit my room. I pressed a hand over my heart to shove it back in place and waited for him to turn the corner on the landing.

Slipping through the door, I ran down the hallway with my satchel hammering my back. At Rupert’s office door, I paused and listened, but couldn’t hear talking. I continued down the hall and pushed through the kitchen door, taking no time to admire the luxurious modern design. I found the door to the garage, smacked the buttons to open the doors to all three bays. My poor truck remained gutted.

“You’re still here?” said Max. “Why can’t you do anything simply?”

I screamed, and he clamped a hand over my mouth.

“Quiet,” he said.

I bit his finger and his hand flew off.

“Get your paws off of me,” I said. “You’ve been yanking me around all week, figuratively and literally. Where’s Rupert? The police are on their way.”

“I thought as much knowing you,” he said. “Rupert is resting.”

“What do you mean resting?”

“Yuri left the room. I took care of Rupert. Come on.”

“Surprised you didn’t pull a gun and blow them away.”

“I left Glock at home.” He pushed me into the garage. “Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“No more arguing,” said Max. He grabbed me around my waist, threw me over his shoulder, and jogged down the steps of the garage and out to the driveway.

I kicked and pounded his back with my fists, but my struggles couldn’t match his he-man strength. The bloop-bleep of his car alarm rang, and he tossed me into his Hummer. Before I untangled my limbs, he climbed into the driver’s seat and cranked the engine. I scrambled to sitting and slid to unlock my door. Max hit the power lock, floored the beast, and cut across the circle and down the driveway. He sped out of the drive and down the street.

“You’re kidnapping me,” I yelled and leaned over to hit him.

He trounced the brakes.

I launched forward, ramming my nose into the dashboard.

“Put on your belt,” said Max, cranking the wheel. “I’m taking you home. The police will find me soon enough, but first they’ll have Yuri.”

“You double-cross your own partners? Snake.” I slouched against the seat, holding my nose. “I hope Miss Gladys strips you blind. I can’t wait to testify at your trial.”

“I’m sure you do,” Max cut his eyes toward me. “You have to answer for your own part in this, you know.”

“What part is that? The part where I tried to help an old woman and orphan and have nearly gotten killed for it?”

“You betrayed me,” Max’s voice rocked the vehicle. “Your dedication to finding me guilty brought this on. I had once thought you mischievous prankster, much like my sister who sought to get me in trouble with my mother.”

“You worked for crime bosses back in your country. Of course your sister wanted to get you in trouble,” I shouted.

“I worked as dealer in casinos,” he yelled. “No proof of criminal organization. You read my file. You should know.”

“I can’t read your stupid file. It’s in cryptic.”

“Cyrillic,” shouted Max. “You are the stupid.”

“Forgive me for not knowing your foreign language, foreigner,” I yelled. “I’m American and you’re in America.”

“No, stupid for working with Rupert.”

“Dear Lord in heaven, I was just painting his picture. What is it with you two? Did he lose a million dollars in your poker palace and never got over it?”

Max jerked his head to glance at me. “Not one million.”

“Dammit to hell, Bear. This is why I don’t like your underground games.”

“This is more than poker,” he grunted and fixed his eyes back on the windshield.

“More than poker. More than a hijacking,” I mimicked in a nasty drawl. “What’s more important than two dead men, a shut-in threatened by a drug dealer, and a child taken from his home?”

“I did not know about the hijacking. Or murders.”

“I know that. So what are you doing with friends like Yuri? You knew who he was when I showed you the composite drawing. Did you make a deal with Ernie Pike?”

“Who is Ernie Pike?”

“Why doesn’t anybody know anybody?” I squeezed my palms against my temples. “Did you have an agent to give the hijacking orders?”

“I did not order hijacking. I tell you I know nothing about it.”

“But they are supplying your SipNZip with jacked goods.”

“It’s not my SipNZip,” he shouted and whipped the wheel to the left, pulling us onto an interstate ramp. Three police cars screamed past us, heading in the opposite direction. “Only in my name.”

I dropped my hands and stared at him. “What do you mean, only in your name?”

“I need focus on driving. Look for police and Rupert.” He stretched his hand to the radio, chose a thumping dance station, and turned the volume to earsplitting.

“Turn it down and talk to me,” I shouted and reached for the volume. “Stop avoiding me.”

He swatted my hand. “You are very frustrating woman,” he yelled. “Big pain in ass. No more talking until Halo.”

Thirty-Eight

Twilight painted Halo in a cool, dioxazine mauve glow as we pulled off the interstate and onto the local highway. Max sped past the SipNZip while I pointed out the yellow tape crossing the doors and the multitude of vehicles parked in front.

I turned off the radio. The electronic tempo still throbbed inside my head. “Are we going to your house or mine?”

“Neither,” Max grunted. “Your family lives outside Halo? I want to avoid town streets. Too many police.”

“Take me to the farm. If the sheriff caught Regis Sharp, my family will show at the farm soon enough. Grandpa will need to feed his goats.”

He followed my directions in silence. I hoped he had pondered the right thing to do during our musical interlude. As we pulled into the farm lane, I scanned for errant goats. The Hummer zipped up the pockmarked farm lane and stopped in the clearing before the house.

Max turned off the engine, but left his lights on. Goats bleated from behind the fence and several sets of ghostly eyes blinked in the glare from the headlights.

I patted Max on the arm. “You’ll feel better once you tell the authorities what you know about Yuri. You’ll protect Little Anatoly and the other SipNZip employees from any involvement with the hijacking crimes, especially if they were just doing what they were told. Protect yourself, too.”

Max shook his head. “You don’t understand. We will be deported.”

“For the hijacking?”

“Maybe some arrests for hijacking and selling stolen goods. I don’t know which SipNZip peoples do the hijacking.” Max sighed and rested his head against the seat. “All will be arrested for illegal immigration.”

“You’re not legal?” I said. “I thought you had a green card.”

“I thought I did, too,” he said. “Until Rupert blackmailed me.”

“What do you mean blackmail? Isn’t he your lawyer?”

“You remember the audit, no?” he said. “Your poking at the bingo caused the government to look at my finances.”

I nodded. An uncomfortable heat spread through my body and prickled my neck.

“This brings interest in my citizenship. I am forced to call that
mu`dak
scum Rupert.”

“I thought Rupert helped immigrants.”

“He get us through your doors for big price. If you can’t afford big price, you work it off in place like SipNZip until you do. I paid that sonofabitch. Always he tries to get more money out of me. Sometimes using people against me.”

Max’s voice shook. “I told you not to work for him. Rupert uses extortion by hiring you. To make me worry what will happen to you.”

“How was I supposed to know? I thought y’all were playing whose grass is greener.”

“Never the mind. During audit, Rupert told me he has proof that can cause me problems with the United States government.”

“Deport you?”

“I don’t know if he is telling truth or bluffing. So much paperwork.” Max waved his hand through the air. “So I was blackmailed by this
zlačynny
, Rupert. ‘How much you want?’ I asked.

“‘I want you to buy some convenience stores so my people have a place of employment for their green card applications,’ said
mu`dak
Rupert.

“I don’t have anything to do with the store,” continued Max. “It’s franchise under big corporation. I just have to purchase the land and put store in my name.”

“So if there’s any trouble, the blame falls on you,” I said.

Max nodded. “But I can’t report anything for fear they will check into my paperwork. We take old gas station, renovate, and it’s SipNZip. I step away.”

“You’ve got to report all this to the sheriff.”

“Too late.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I said. “Are you going to live on the run? I thought you enjoyed your palatial southern monstrosity and the local gentlemen’s lax morality on high stakes gambling.”

“If I go back to home country, my old boss will kill me.”

“Literally?” My voice pitched high.

Max cut his eyes away from mine.

“Yuri was going through Rupert’s files when I caught him.” I pulled my satchel off the floor and hauled it onto the seat. “I don’t know what he planned to do with them, but if Yuri felt desperate enough to steal the files, there must have been a reason.”

Max shook his head. “You need proof of Rupert’s hijack organization. These files just have citizenship paperwork. What does it matter?”

“I don’t know, but I grabbed Little Anatoly and Sam’s files. I also have yours.” I placed my hand on the satchel and gave him my most serious look. “I know reading your papers was an invasion of your privacy, but you weren’t telling me anything.”

“I am confused,” Max tapped my satchel with a finger. “You wanted me to make confession for a crime I didn’t commit, yet you have committed robbery by stealing these files.”

“I had planned to return your file,” I said. “So it’s more like borrowing without permission.”

“I do not believe this is legal term.”

“Do you want the files or not?”

“I am in enough trouble. Do I also want possession of stolen files?” Max opened his door and stepped onto the gravel drive.

“I will leave you here and find some place to go.”

He circled the front of the vehicle and reached for my door. I slid to the edge of my seat before he opened it, taking advantage of the Hummer’s height to look him in the eye.

“I am trying to help you, Bear,” I said. “Even though you let me down and sought the pants of an Amazon. But in the interest of catching the man who killed Tyrone, that’s all flushed under the bridge.”

“I am truly confused by your assistance. And your idioms.”

He took my hand to help me slide off the seat, but I held tight, willing him to continue.

“I cannot tell if you want me arrested because of your anger or out of concern for me,” Max’s eyebrow scar lifted. “If it is anger, I have told you my feelings for the Shawna Branson. Your jealousy both piques and astounds me. If it is concern, you have a very odd way of expressing your friendship.”

“I suppose it is confusing,” I said. “But I do like you. In the past six months, you have grown from my personal chigger to more of a pesky honey bee.”

“I am still confused,” he said, and jerked. The Hummer rocked, and the air burst with a booming explosion. The giant jeep dipped, and Max’s hand slipped from my grasp. He hopped back, lost his balance, and fell. As his body slammed to the ground, his legs went in two different directions, under and out.

I righted myself in the seat and stared in shock at his blown front tire. “Bear!”

He collapsed onto his back. One hand stretched for my ankle as he writhed in the gravel.

The air cracked and a shot winged the open door.

Max’s arm dropped to the ground.

I kneeled on the floor of the Hummer and reached over the side. “Get in the car, Bear. Hurry.”

The window exploded. I yanked my hand inside as the door slammed shut. Tiny pebbles of glass showered my bent body.

Beneath me, Max bellowed a painful cry.

“Bear,” I screamed. “Are you shot?”

“Not hit. Rolled under car.” He spoke in gasping phrases. “You crawl to other side. Stay down.”

“Do you have your phone? Call 9-1-1.”

The air cracked again and the ground rocked below me. I scrambled over the Humvee’s ridiculously large console and squeezed under the steering wheel. The explosive thwack of gunfire sounded as another bullet zinged through the passenger window, slamming into the backseat window column. I cowered against the accelerator, holding my ears. Plastic exploded inside the car with the next shot. Dust blew up in my face and my ears rang. I opened my eyes and peered above the seat.

A quarter-sized shred in the passenger door convinced me to get the hell out of the Hummer.

I stayed low, flipped the latch, and pushed the door wide. The light from the cab spilled onto the gravel. I followed the spill, sprawling into the rocks below. Gun fire cracked the silence. Above me, the driver’s door swung shut. I blinked at the sky above me. Lights swarmed my vision. Time slowed. I heard my name called. My chest tightened, then air exploded from my lungs. My brain cut back on, and I slithered under the Hummer.

“Cherry,” Max repeated. “Are you shot?”

“No,” I said. “Your door has a big hole in it, though. And the window is blown to hell.”

I rolled onto my stomach and squinted into the darkness at Max’s mammoth shape. “Where were you hit? How bad is it?”

“Not hit. I slipped when the first bullet hit the tire. My knee,” he said. “Hurts like the hell. Who is trying to kill you?”

“Kill me? I thought they were trying to shoot you.” I arched my neck and peered into the gloomy farm yard. “Where are they?”

“They were behind the house,” said Max. “Moving closer now.”

“We’re sitting ducks,” I said. “Where’s your phone?”

“In the Humvee.” He shifted and his left hand reached through the shadows toward me. “I will crawl out. You get in jeep and drive away. The tire will hold.”

I grabbed his hand. “No, sir. I am not leaving you to be shot up. My Grandpa has an arsenal of hunting guns in his house. Just give me a second to figure out how to get us both out of here.”

“No.” His hand crushed mine. “Absolutely no.”

“Maybe Regis Sharp escaped. Or it’s Ernie Pike. Sharp had a Ruger, so I’m betting on Sharp.”

Our argument was cut short by the remote sound of a car engine slowing on the highway and turning onto the gravel farm lane. Footsteps smacked the gravel as the shooter ran back toward the house.

“You stay where you are,” I said. “I’m getting out and flagging that vehicle before it comes any closer. It could be my family. Don’t move.”

I scooted out from the Hummer and kneeled beside the rear tire. The vehicle’s lights bobbed on the potholed road. I ran diagonally, toward the cover of the big oak that grew alongside the path. I didn’t recognize the car, but continued my run toward it. The vehicle slowed to a stop. As I drew nearer, I made out the sleek hood and large grill of a very expensive Jaguar.

Definitely not any of my relations.

The back window rolled down, and I heard Rupert call my name. I wavered between heading toward the car and back toward Max and the shooter. Behind me the lane split, running toward the out buildings. The house was closer. I began backing toward the oak.

“Miss Tucker,” called Rupert. “Is that Maksim’s Hummer?”

So much for the Atlanta police.

“Did you follow me here?” I called, looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t see any hint of the shooter. The vehicle may have scared them away, but I placed my back against the tree, blocking my body from the house.

“I’ve been here before, remember darling?” said Rupert. The Jaguar pulled up behind the Hummer and parked. Rupert leaned out the window. “Miss Tucker, I need to speak to Maksim. He attacked me. Then the police came to my house looking for a fugitive. I had already left, but they reached me by phone. I need to call them back with his whereabouts.”

“Max isn’t available right now,” I said, peering around the tree.

“The police are looking for him, my dear.”

“I figured as much. Still, can’t help you.”

I heard the whir of another window rolling down. I glanced over my shoulder. Yuri waved from behind the Jag’s steering wheel. His gun pointed at Miss David, who sat in the passenger seat. She did not wave and kept her eyes fixed on the Hummer.

My brain squeezed out a few phrases best not spoken aloud. My mouth tried an “Oh, crap.”

Rupert laughed. “You do have a way with words, Miss Tucker.”

I gave him a tight smile. “And you have a strange sense of humor. Why are you letting your nephew hold a gun on Miss David? She’s kind of prickly, but certainly not worth shooting.”

Another snort of laughter ripped from Rupert’s belly. “This was for Maksim. He abandoned her once when she decided to work for me rather than stay with him. I thought she might change his mind about talking to the police.”