The World in Reverse (19 page)

“Yeah, Twist got himself shot,” Cane said, locking eyes with Dmitry. “Evidently, he pissed off the wrong guy.”

“Evidently,” Dmitry said, raising a naturally arched brow. He pushed closer to the table with his elbows. “And have you found the person responsible for the murder of your friend. As I understand it, you two were so close, you lived together.”

“We lived on the same property. And yes, he was my friend, but no I haven’t found the fuckers responsible yet.”

“But you are looking?” Dmitry asked. “I o
nly ask this because you said that you were preparing for an occupation not a war and if someone had killed my best friend, I would be preparing for war.” Dmitry wiggled his nose. “But that’s me.”

“Two things bother me about what you just said. One, it sounds like you accused me of being a homo. Second, you accused me of being a coward. Now, where I’m from we don’t try to offend potential business partners on the first meet.”

Dmitry chuckled. “And where are you from?”

Cane didn’t answer.

Dmitry sat back in his seat and looked at Vasily. “Is Anatoly still working?”

“Yes, boss,” Vasily answered.

“Good,” Dmitry said, standing up from the table. “I’d like to take my friend to meet him.” Dmitry looked down at Cane. “Anatoly is my son, but I’m sure that you already know that. He’s just downstairs with another gentleman who is in our particular industry of arms dealing. Shall we go and talk more about our possible transaction.”

Cane stared at the man in awe. Dmitry looked tall sitting at the table, but standing up, he was an absolute giant. At seven feet in height and nearly three-feet wide with bulging muscles that lined his tailored suit, the Adonis sucked all of the air out of the room with his uncompromising presence. Twin chrome Glocks with pearl handles peaked out of his suit jacket as he motioned towards the door.

Suddenly, Cane didn’t want to go downstairs. But he knew that walking out at the moment would only speak to his growing intimidation. He stood from his seat. “Yeah, sure. Lead the way,” he said, realizing that the men had not checked him for his weapon. Stealthy, he felt for it.

“There is no need to feel threatened. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. If I felt you a threat, you’d be dead. If I felt you a complete irritant, you’d be dead. Right now, I simply want to continue the conversation downstairs. You have my word that no harm will be brought to you,” Dmitry said, walking toward the door.

“Course not,” Cane said, following Dmitry.

Vasily and his men walked behind Cane on his flank, only inches away. They passed by the room where his bodyguard sat and headed down a steep flight of stairs to an elevator at the end of a dark hall.

Stepping inside, Dmitry made room for Cane. They all stood silently in the elevator for the short descent to the lower floor.

As soon as the elevator opened, Cane heard a man screaming in pain.

Dmitry stepped out first, and slipped his large hands into his pants pockets. “Don’t worry. That’s not your bodyguard, friend,” Dmitry said with a smile.

Cane didn’t want to step off the elevator but Vasily was right behind him. He was certain that if
he didn’t move forward on his own, the man would surely push him forward. He held his composure and followed Dmitry into the sterile room where the screams became louder.

Dmitry stopped at a table near the door and picked up a handful of grapes and cheese on a platter. “Would you like some?” he asked Cane.

“No, I’m good,” Cane answered. Ready to get whatever was waiting on him behind the wall.

“I will preface what you’re about to see with this statement. Earlier, I made the point of saying that I am the only man to see about weapons. Well, evidently this gentleman out of Tipton County didn’t get the memo. You see, if I’m not directly selling the guns, then I’m getting a cut from the guns being sold. That’s for every weapon that exchanges hands within a 500-mile radius. Now, my reach goes a lot further than that, but I believe in protecting home first. And the rule is one must pay to play. If they don’t,” Dmitry shrugged his large shoulders. “Then I have to make an example out of them. You understand this, right. After all, you said you were involved in the nasty business of drugs. It’s never been my forte, but hey, everyone can’t be me.”

Cane swallowed hard as he heard the man in the back scream again as what sounded like a whip slash against his skin.

“My son, Anatoly, has very persuading ta
ctics in the field,” Dmitry said, walking towards the loud screams.

Cane followed, knowing that he wouldn’t like what he saw behind the wall, especially since he had an idea of who was behind it.

“Anatoly,” Dmitry called.

“Da,” Anatoly answered shortly.

“We have a guest,” Dmitry said, stepping around the wall.

Cane waited
, but Vasily urged him forward. He turned the corner to confirm his suspicions. The gun runner from Tipton County was naked and bloody, tied to a chair sitting atop plastic covering the ground. A halogen lamp lit the dark corner with unforgiving light, showing ever lash that Anatoly had inflicted on the man’s wounded skin.

Anatoly Medlov stood a few feet away from the man clasping a bullwhip in his hand. He was
6’1” but had the same yellowish, golden hair as his father and the same piercing blue eyes. He wore dark jeans and a black t-shirt, hugging to his taut muscles that were embellished with many tattoos.

Three bottles of vodka sat atop a table right behind him. Turning towards his father, he motioned toward Vasily to take the whip while he put out his cigarette.

“Who is this?” Anatoly asked, blue eyes blazing at Cane like he wouldn’t mind putting him under his whip as well.

“This is our friend, Cane. He’s interested in buying some military grade weapons from us. Just a small quantity, right?” Dmitry asked, looking over at Cane. “In my opinion it’s about both quality and quantity.”

Cane caught his breath. The bastards had him under surveillance from the moment that he pulled up. Evidently, their equipment was good enough to pick up even the slightest mumble. He smacked his lips in total supplication.

“So what did he do to deserve to be treated like this?” Cane asked.

Anatoly rolled his eyes again. “I think he’s being treated quite well, actually. I believe the words that he used to describe us were commy bastards, if I recall correctly.” He spit on the floor. “That’s enough in my mind to carve out his liver.”

Behind Anatoly, Vasily reached back and unleashed another lash right into the man’s chest and across his legs. The man screamed out in agony again, begging for the torture to stop. Tears filled, the blood and
gurgling cries filled their ears.

“His pain seems to bother you,” Dmitry said, watching Cane closely. He didn’t flinch in the man’s agony. In fact, he seemed unbothered by it all together.

“I know him,” Cane answered, stomach turned.

“I’m sorry. I can’t hear you above his screams. What did you say?” Dmitry asked.

“I said that I know the fucking guy,” Cane said, unable to look at the beaten man.

Vasily unleashed another unforgiving blow. This time the man begged to be killed.

Dmitry smiled and bit his lip. “I tell you what. I’m a pretty fair man. To be honest, I had plans on keeping him here until his flesh began to rot off his bones. You see, he was attempting to break into the market without my permission. And he was gaining quite the momentum. In fact, it was his growth that caught my attention. Certain people were suddenly not coming to me for their weapons. And I knew that they had to be getting them from somewhere.”

The man screamed again as Vasily whipped him, this time across his face.

Cane gritted his teeth.

“But I’ll do this for you,” Dmitry said, no
dding. He narrowed his eyes at Cane. “I’ll let you kill him.”

Cane snarled.

“If you’re not up to it, then he can stay here with me,” Anatoly said with a grin. “I like his company.”

“Vasily, did you check him for weapons b
efore you allowed him into the restaurant?” Dmitry asked, not taking his eyes off of Cane.

“No. He’s got
one at his back and one on his right leg,” Vasily said, picking up a bottle of vodka. He walked over to the man, pulled the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and poured the contents on the top of the man’s head. He screamed out in agony, alcohol seeping into all of his aching wounds.

Cane shook his head. “Fine, I’ll do it.” He reached under his shirt and pulled his pistol out.

“Smith and Wesson,” Anatoly said in approval.

Vasily’s men pulled their weapons and pointed them at Cane just in case he decided that he wanted to shoot their bosses instead of the man.

Feeling the weapons and their red scopes on him, he walked up to the man and pointed the gun at him.

“Thank you,” the man said, nodding. His mangled face bore the resemblance of a beaten, bloody steak.

Nodding, Cane pulled the trigger three times, ensuring the man was put out of his misery. Stepping back, he quickly put away his weapon and looked up at Dmitry.

“Now it seems that I truly am the only man to talk to,” Dmitry said with a grin.

“So 1,000 AK-47s…automatic,” Cane snarled.

Dmitry lifted his brow. “Once I check your references.”

“My references?” Cane asked infuriated. His voice echoed throughout the room.

“You didn’t think that this was where you got
to interview me, did you?” Dmitry shook his head. “It’s quite the other way around. I never sell to anyone that I don’t feel absolutely comfortable with.” Turning his back to the man, he popped another tender grape into his mouth. “You’ll be hearing from us on our decision.”

18

Nicola’s old office was covered with papers from the Baby Boys case and a hundred other cases he was either actively pursuing or buil
ding upon. Sticky notes, napkins with hand written messages and business cards covered the walls, pinned to corkscrew boards along with photos of people and places. It was a time capsule locked in criminal perpetuity and to most who might see it, a depressing doom of misfortune.

Lt. Kat Steele moved aside a large pile of files from the center of his oak desk, a piece of antique history that he must have had brought in because it didn’t fit anything else in the office, and sat down a box of her own personal items to make the space her own, especially now since she would be taking over his old position, including the case of the century. Her mouth watered at the opportunity. This was any detective’s dream.

She pushed back his black leather chair and sat down, relishing in joy of her well-deserved appointment. Hmm. This felt good. Running her hands over the armrest, she stopped for a moment and looked at the picture in a wooden frame of Agosto with four small children surrounding him while he sat and a black woman in a yellow sundress on his flank. It appeared that they were aboard a fine yacht off a coast.

Picking the frame up, she looked closer, d
igesting every detail. To her surprise, all four children were bi-racial with mocha skin, curly hair and blazing eyes. And they all looked like their father, handsome and stocky, proud and strong. And his wife was extremely beautiful, a bit on the regal side like maybe she’d been highly educated and came from a good family. And Agosto, a man who was normally full of snide remarks and serious policing, was all smiles. Yes, he was actually happy, not just content the way many men she knew were.

Wow. The rumors must have been true.

Nicola Agosto,
the world’s newest bigot according to every news outlet in the world
, was married to a black woman. From her vast experience in the dirty south, extreme racists normally didn’t do that sort of thing. She found the idea curious and extremely disturbing. Why wasn’t Agosto going public about his family? Why wasn’t he defending himself against the media and Ferris? Then it hit her. He’d rather go down than expose his family to any more hurt or harm. That was a sobering thought. That made her see him completely different.

She hated a bad man no matter what good he tried to do in the world, but she hated even more a good man being persecuted for a bad choice.

She had heard that definitively, Agosto was out for good. There would be no suspension. He would be kicked out on his ass literally and forgotten by the Memphis Police Department like so many before him. Every case he solved would be forgotten. Every perp he chased, caught and bled to track down will be forgotten. Every good deed that he did instead of exploiting his position will be forgotten.

Word was also that the Director was e
xtremely troubled about the entire thing, not just because he and Agosto were friends but also because he didn’t believe in letting one good man go. In a department where cops were running cars up poles, raping women, having sex in their squad cars, intimidating private citizens and stealing drugs on busts, they needed every, competent good cop that they could hold on to.

However, this was a tricky situation to nav
igate around. If Amway stepped in and tried to save Agosto, the city would turn on him as well, maybe demand his job. Plus, Councilman Ferris was leading the charge against Agosto, and that was a death sentence in itself. Everyone loved Ferris. He was black, elitist Ivy Leaguer who fought for children’s rights and civil rights both as a lawyer and as a politician. Every day he was on the television demanding action like he really cared. The masses of uninformed rallied behind him blindly, unaware of his ulterior motive, but she saw it as clear as day. Ferris was just using this as another opportunity for him to get in the limelight.

Glancing up from the photo and her thoughts, she noticed that out at the desks her new subordinates were whispering and talking. Huddled up together, they shared rancid rumors of how she had gotten her new assignment and chuckled under their collective breath about her private life. Lifting her head and brow at them, she gave one of her seriously intimidating glares, making them disperse without a word.

Nosy bastards.

It had been a long-running consensus on the force that Lt. Steele had climbed the ranks of the MPD one incredible blowjob at a time. And because of her uncanny good looks and truly promiscuous lifestyle, the rumors were believed to be the gospel, negating her stellar record and stats, which rivaled her male counterparts on any given day. However, where other women would have clamored into a ball of insecurities, it only drove her to aim higher, work harder and at the end of the day, rub her successes in everyone’s face.

Yes, she fucked whomever she wanted, but she also did her job. So, as far as she was concerned, how was she different from 99% of the male cops on the job? No one had been able to answer that yet. Instead, they judged and they judged harshly.

Getting back to pulling her what-not’s out of her box, she took her stare from the masses outside of her new office and focused on trying to organize the messy world of Nicola Agosto into cohesive clues and leads to solve this case. With her head down and her mind now shifted back to its rightful place, she didn’t notice Deputy Director Magnelli enter into the office, but the other detectives did. They quickly scattered like rats to their seats, nodding his way as the
Big Brass
came down the aisle in full uniform, shaking things up with every step.

If he was the guy who had appointed her, then she was here to stay. Magnelli was a top cop, a tough cop and respected man and to have his blessing was the biggest of deals.

Stepping into the office, he tapped the door to get her attention and then closed it behind him.

Lt. Steele looked up surprised and broke a sly smile. Quickly, she pushed away from the desk to stand up. “Sir,” she said with extreme reverence.

“Don’t get up,” Magnelli said with a warmness in his voice that spoke to their ongoing relationship. He raised his right hand slightly to halt her.

Lt. Steele tilted her head. “Don’t you think it would look odd if I did not?” She stood up anyway and made her way over to shake his hand.

He grabbed it gently and caressed her long fingers. “Are you getting settled in?” he asked. Her heart-shaped lips covered in a red-matte lipstick stole his attention.

“I am,” she said, holding his hand longer than she knew that she should have.

Releasing her, he took a seat in front of her desk and watched her as she made her way behind it again. Seeing her long, limber body neatly tucked into her black slacks and white oxford with her gun and badge hoisted securely on her hip, made him incredibly hard. He licked his lips and made a mental note to see her later that week for a
private encounter
, one that had been on the books for weeks but unable to be satisfied because of their hectic work schedules.

“Do you have everything that you need to hit the ground running?” he asked, sweeping her body with another insinuating glance. Damn, he wanted her bad. Maybe it was her sweet perfume or her cat-like brown eyes staring at him like she wanted him as badly as he wanted her, or maybe it was her perfect features, her caramel skin, her thick perfect brows or pouty mouth, the curve of her chin or the snooty little tip of her nose. Kat Steele was an angel to look at but a devil in the sack. Voluptuous and athletic, a hellcat to fight and an even bigger hell cat to dominate, the woman before him was all that he had wanted in a woman, pity he couldn’t have her for real. For now, they simply satisfied each other’s needs as often as they were given
the chance.

“I do have everything. Thank you. I won’t let you down on this case,” she said completely professional. “I’m meeting with Johnson as soon as he arrives. I want to go after this Cane fellow today and start to beat the streets until someone talks.” She sat erect in her chair, breasts pushing at the fine cotton of her shirt. “Plus, I want to have a word with DeMario.”

“DeMario?” He didn’t like the sound of it.

“He was accused of having pertinent info
rmation to the case. I want to know what that is. I’ll make sure that it’s cordial…kid’s gloves and all that. But the man has to be interviewed. If he knows something, then we need to know it.”

“Just make sure that his lawyer is present,” Magnelli said nodding. “One look at you and
he might not mind answering a few questions.”

“That’s the idea,” she said, unashamed that she used her looks in the field to get farther with interrogations than the men.

“Good,” Magnelli said, assured that she’d do a good job. “Amway and I have confidence that you all will solve this case and put the department back in a good light with the public.”

She nodded. “That is my intention.”

“Should you get any push back from Johnson or any of the men, you call me. I’ll see to it,” he said, protectively.

“Don’t worry. I know how to handle m
yself.”

“Yes, you do,” he said with a sexually fru
strated sigh. “What does your schedule look like later in the week?”

“Open,” she answered with a devilish slow grin. “Just call me. We can meet at our normal place.”

Chills ran down his arm and goose bumps formed. Suddenly, he was imagining her naked and coiled around him again.

“Good,” he said, standing up. His hard-on outlined his pants. “Then, expect a call for an update.” Pushing down his pants discreetly, he nodded and stuck out his hand. “Lieutenant.”

“Before you go…” she said with a frown. Taking the photo, she passed it to Magnelli. “Did you know about this?”

Magnelli took the photo and looked at it. “Know about what?”

“He’s married to a black woman,” she said, stating the obvious.

“Of course I know.” He sat the photo down and looked at her, clearly seeing how the fact that he was Italian and she was black had some bearing on how she saw Agosto. “It’s not my decision anymore than it’s yours, Kat.” He rubbed a hand over hers. “Stay focused and get the job done, okay.”

She nodded, even if she didn’t like what she was hearing. “Okay.”

“Good girl. I’ll see you later this week.” With that, he turned on his heels and headed back out of the door, airs back on and broad chest back out. She watched him as he disa
ppeared out of sight and then deflated against her chair.

***

Nicola had been on the phone with his parents for nearly an hour. He listened to them as they argued with each other on the phone and then tried to talk to him. Wanting to run his head into the wall, he sat down on the top stair of the staircase and looked down at the first floor.

“Dad, what would I do at the company?” he asked, running a hand through his wild hair. It felt oily from not showering. Rubbing his fingers together, he made a note to shower and while he was at it…shave.

“You have an MBA for goodness sake,” Mr. Agosto said, hitting his newspaper on his large granite desk. “There are a hundred things you could do here.” He looked out the windows of his corner office at the Miami bay.

Nicola tried to reason with the man. “I have a degree that I’ve never used. I’m a cop.”

“Marketing is common sense,” Mr. Agosto argued back.

“Ivy is the one with the brains for that kind of
thing anyway. I don’t even know how to Tweet or twit or whatever.” He sighed into the phone as he heard small footsteps run past him at Mach speed. “Stop running!” he yelled out without even turning around.

“Your father’s right. There is nothing there in Memphis for you and those people….have you watched the news? They are making you out to be a monster,” his mother
Liz said in a high octave.

Nicola shook his head. His mother was an emotional worrywart, and the last thing he wanted was to get her involved in the convers
ations about what he planned to do post-PD.

“Well, have you spoken with the press at all?” His father asked.

“No,” Nicola answered shortly.

“Why not? This is getting ridiculous,” Mr. Agosto growled.

“I am waiting for the final findings from the Securities Squad,” Nicola explained.

“But you just said that unofficially you’re out,” Mr. Agosto’s voice growled. “That city never deserved you anyway, son. You have given everything. And for what? You could have been making millions just like your brot
her, Santo. He’s made quite a good life for him and Arin here.”

The last thing that Nicola wanted to talk about was his brother’s success, not that he was jealous of it, but considering his own situation, it wasn’t exactly helping his morale.

“How are the kids?” Liz asked. Worry laced her small voice. “I haven’t spoken to them since last week. Normally, Ivy calls me, but with everything that is going on and the fact the poor thing is pregnant…” She cringed at the thought. The news of a new Agosto was supposed to come with gleeful and joyful celebration, not hampered by a murder investigation.

“Really, son, you should think of your wife,” Mr. Agosto said, intending a guilt trip on Nicola. “Maybe
living in Miami would be better for her, especially in her state.”