Ogrodnik Interior 2.0c (19 page)

It was late in the day, and it was Sunday. There were no customers. Elliot pulled into a parking spot beside the shop and got out of his car. Rayce was already walking toward him from an unseen door on the side of the bike shop.

Rayce was fascinating to look at. His face looked like it was fashioned from a block of clay with a machete and then put out to weather for a few decades. The angles of his face weren’t quite true, and Elliot concluded that the best efforts of a plastic surgeon weren’t quite good enough to hide a violent past. He had thick hair the color of lead that would have touched his collar if he wore one. He wasn’t a huge man, maybe a shade over six feet and 220, but was as broad at the shoulders as a much larger man. Rayce didn’t have the bulked-up muscle that you might see on someone who frequented the gym. His lean, ropey muscles hung off his oversized frame like Spanish moss from an oak tree. Elliot got the immediate impression that he was a man to be reckoned with, and yet the calm, measured manner in which Rayce crossed the parking lot also spoke about a man who was in complete control. The phrase “still waters run deep” popped into his mind as he watched Rayce approach.

Elliot thought about what an old college roommate of his used to say about identifying dangerous people. The roommate was a doorman at a local watering hole. He himself was a large fellow with notable credentials hanging out of each sleeve, and his job was to keep the peace. He learned how to size up the clientele before they became opponents, and he always told Elliot that he watched for guys with thick wrists. It had something to do with physics and leverage. Rayce’s wrists were veined two by fours, and hanging from them was a pair of softball sized fists.

Elliot extended his arm to shake hands. It brought back the memory of when he first shook Rayce’s hand at Sarah’s funeral. At six and a quarter feet tall, Elliot was not a small man by any means, but the way Rayce’s hand completely enveloped his own took him by surprise. Elliot understood that when men shake hands, there is an unintentional rivalry in the manner that the hand is shook. Every man subconsciously wants his hand to be the dominant one in the exchange. It is something so instinctual and primal that it’s not even considered or thought about during or after the greeting.

Not only did Rayce’s hand completely encompass Elliot’s, but the grip itself was so firmly stable that his hand fought to find even a small amount of purchase within the grasp. The little bit of grip Elliot’s fingers found on the bottom edge of Rayce’s hand reminded him of roughly sawn wood. If they had been adversaries, the psychological portion of the battle would already have been won.

Rayce invited Elliot around to the back of the house where they sat at an old patio table that was canted slightly to one side and teetered on uneven legs when he rested his hand on it. The bricked patio extended about 15 feet from the house and was 20 feet wide. Past the patio, the yard gradually sloped down to the rushing river behind it. The roar of the rapids in the back offered a soothing blanket of white noise, and Elliot thought this would be a great place to find peace. Rayce already had two beers freshly opened on the table waiting.

“Thanks for meeting me, Rayce. I know it must have been a shock to hear from me this morning.”

Rayce put his hand up to stop the conversation niceties and get down to business. “Start at the beginning,” he said in a low, raspy voice that had a liquid quality to it not unlike surf washing over a rocky beach. Elliot speculated that the unique sound of his voice might have something to do with the vestiges of a long scar that ran from one ear down across his neck and then disappeared into his shirt.

He started at the beginning. He talked about his father’s murder and what he thought about the investigation, the clues his father had left behind, his visits with Dr. Baldwin, Alex Banik, Enver Yilmaz and his security crew. He explained how he and Rivka had managed to find the vehicle and the owner. He spoke of Frank Girard, Rivka and the big man, who is probably also the Stungun Killer. He spoke of the visit with the police chief, the apparent suicide of the killer, and the subsequent cover-up. He described the break-in at JFK, the fire at his house, the photos on the table, the dead suckerfish, his decision to back off and drop the investigation and finally about the photos of Sarah on the subway deck standing beside two of Yilmaz’s heavies.

Rayce didn’t say a word during the entire discourse; he didn’t take notes, he didn’t ask questions nor did he acknowledge any points during the one-sided conversation. He was tilted back in his chair holding on to his beer, now long empty, and staring blankly out at the river. The only obvious reaction Elliot noticed was when he first mentioned the name "Enver Yilmaz," Rayce seemed to stiffen just a little. Elliot was also watching for the less obvious micro expressions that might provide an indication of what Rayce was feeling. Rayce was a hard man to read. By nature he was quiet and reflective and didn’t display much in the way of his emotional state of mind. But Elliot was skilled in reading people and knew that by the way Rayce’s jaw jutted out slightly and his brow tightened that he was angry. Not just anger—more like a simmering rage that smoldered beneath his composed façade. Elliot’s story had ignited something deep inside Rayce, something dangerous.

“Is that it?” he growled more than spoke.

“There’re probably some details I forgot, but I think you have the picture.”

Rayce continued looking out at the river for a few moments and finally asked “What is it you want from me?”

“Sarah used to tell me that you know things. That you were in the US Special Forces and saw action, and that you were capable in areas that most men could never be. She said you had done things, saw things in the forces, overseas, things that most people can’t comprehend. She said if there was ever a need to send one man into battle that you’d be her choice.”

Elliot waited for a response, but none came. “I’m getting back into the investigation, Rayce. I have to. Those bastards killed my wife, my father, and an employee. If I say anything about it, they’ll kill me and everyone close to me. I can’t live with that. I’ll make sure that my son and partner are safely out of the way, and then I’m going after them.“

“So I’ll ask again. What is that you want from me?”

“Help, Rayce. In whatever way you can provide it: advice, leadership, planning or whatever. I have money. I’ll pay you well.”

“I’m not for hire.”

“Can you at least give me some advice, Rayce? Tell me what to do or whom I can talk to?”

Rayce let his thoughts drift back to when he met Sarah. If not for her, he wouldn’t be alive today. The surgeons had done their work; they’d set his bones and sewn his wounds. They told him he was fine, that the worst was over, that he could go home and continue on with his life. They were wrong. His old life no longer existed. The military had discarded him; his unit had betrayed him, and his family had turned their back on him. He moved to Canada to get away, to slink into a hole where he could curl up and die. That’s when she came into his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by Elliot.

“If you cared about her like I thought you did, then help me find the people who killed her.”

“You want advice? Go home, pack a bag and start driving. You’re not ready for this.”

“And let them get away with murder? Not likely.”

“Nobody’s getting away with murder. You have my guarantee that whoever was involved in Sarah’s death will answer for it.”

“I’m not going to let you fight my battles. She was my wife. He was my father,” Elliot shot back.

“You’re in over your head. I’m going after them but I can’t fight this battle and babysit you at the same time, so go get your partner and stay off the grid for a couple of weeks.”

“Not going to happen Rayce,” Elliot said shaking his head side to side.

Rayce looked at Elliot while choosing his next words, “You’ve never had to kill a man. You’ve never stared down the muzzle of a gun or the sharp end of a knife. Who knows how you’ll react at that moment when action is needed. Some can do it, most cannot; even those who react, who are able to overcome their apprehension in a do or die situation will get eaten up inside. The realization that you’ve taken another man’s life will fester inside you and eventually hollow you out leaving nothing but an empty husk. You’ll wish you were the one who was killed.

“And you’re immune to this? The great Rayce Nolan, super Black Ops guy.” Elliot spat out.

“I’m not immune,” he said quietly. “I’m already hollowed out. Whatever humanity I had left was carved out of me on the floor of an Iraqi cave,” he said looking out across the river. “Leave this to me Forsman,” but even as he said it he looked back toward Elliot to assess the man that sat beside him, because he realized that Elliot would not be dissuaded.

Elliot nodded his head, his jaw locked in place and lips pressed tightly together but said nothing.

“I can’t stop you if you want in, but I’m not going to be looking over my shoulder wondering if you’re doing the right thing. It’s going to get messy. I’m going to do what I was trained to do, take out the enemy. There will be no negotiations. People will die and there’ll be no backing out once we start. You do as I say, when I say it, no questions asked.”

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Neither man spoke, as they let the gravity of the decision they just made sink in.

“Is your son safe?” Rayce asked.

“Yes, he’s gone away. I don’t even know where.”

“What about your partner?”

“I’ll let her know what we’re doing.”

“I need you to go home, pack a bag for a week and, in the middle of the night, drive back here. You’ll stay with me until this is over. “

“Why the middle of the night?”

“If they’re still watching you, maybe we can catch them asleep, or maybe they aren’t staking out overnight.”

“Okay.”

“
Bring a gun if you have one, and leave your cell phone behind. It’s traceable.”

“What will you be doing?”

“I’ve got a couple of calls to make, and then I’m going to take a look at the Eastern Security building tonight. We need to know what we’re up against. Our advantage right now is that they think you’ve packed it in. They won’t be as vigilant if there’s nothing for them to worry about. I’ve been in a lot of fights in my day and I’ve won a lot of fights. I always try to get the first punch in, sometimes that ends the fight before it even starts. Maybe I can throw the first punch tonight.”

“Yilmaz told me that they’re backing off.”

“That was bullshit, Yilmaz’ word means nothing.”

“You know Yilmaz?” asked Elliot.

Rayce ignored the question and continued. “You’ll need to talk to your partner and let her know what we’re doing. She should either go away for a while or come back here with you. Don’t trust anyone; assume you’re being watched and that your phones are being tapped. Go now, and act like you normally would. Even if they’ve followed you here, they have no reason to think you’re doing anything case related. Let’s keep it that way. If I’m not back when you get here, you’ll find a key under the rock by the back door.”

Elliot thanked Rayce and left the bike shop. As he drove back into town, he kept watch for a tail; he didn’t see any.

Elliot drove directly to his house, packed his gun and his bag, and returned to his father’s where he’d camp out for the next few hours before returning to Rayce’s. His first task was to talk to Rivka. He dialed her number and let the phone ring until her answering machine picked up.

“Riv, I know you’re mad at me for dropping the investigation, but I need to talk to you. Give me a call on my cell.”

He thought about what he’d tell Anne. There was no reason to think she was in danger, and he felt the less she knew, the better.

“Hello, Anne.”

“I thought I heard some banging around up there. Are you coming down for a visit?”

“I can’t tonight. I’ve got a few things I need to attend to, things that have been festering for a while and they can’t wait any longer. “

“But it’s almost 9:30 p.m. You have to work tonight?”

“As I said, it cannot wait. I’ll be out of town for a few days, so I’ll call you when I get back. “

“You’re not back on the case, are you? “

“No, nothing like that. I’ll explain it when I see you, and it’ll all make sense,” he lied.

“Okay. Good luck, and be careful. You know how I feel about you.”

“The feelings are mutual. Later.”

“Banik. We’ve been tracking the son since he phoned yesterday.“

“What’s he been doing?”

“He spent Friday morning out in the country with a lady friend, but he’s been acting suspicious since he got back.”

“How so?”

“He went to visit a bike dealer on the south shore yesterday evening.“

“To buy a bike? “

“No, the store was closed. He went to meet the bike dealer.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. The bike shop is owned by a guy named Rayce Nolan. I knew a man with that name many years ago. We’re getting a background on him now to see if it’s the same guy.”

“Who is he?”

“If it’s the same guy, he’s a soldier I met in the Gulf twenty years ago. A scary fucker, someone we’ll need to take seriously.”

“What’s your plan?”

“No changes to the plan. We’ll need to take them out and make them disappear, and if we have to take out the bike dealer, we’ll do that too.”

“Just so you know, Ogrodnik is no longer available to us. “

“Good. That freak scares the shit outta me. I have a guy who specializes in this sort of thing.”

“Keep me posted.”

Rayce thought about Elliot’s story and what the logical next step should be. He knew that Yilmaz, a trained soldier and leader, would already have a plan in place, and that plan would not include letting Elliot live. A man such as Yilmaz would recognize that Elliot represented a risk and that risks must be dealt with.