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“This thing will erase it. It’s magnetic. Anything and everything in that building gets erased. Doesn’t matter where it is. Zap! Fried tomatoes.”
“We’ll do this my way,” Boldt said.
“That’s fine, Sarge. But if I find an outside outlet, I’m popping the trunk and plugging this thing in. My suggestion is: Leave your cell phone in the car.”
Boldt knew he meant well, and initially he’d even supported the idea because the effectiveness of the technology sounded convincing. But if the contraption worked-and he was begi
LaMoia dropped Boldt off outside the corrugated steel warehouse and wished him luck. Boldt did, in fact, carry his cell phone, and it was set to dial LaMoia’s phone with two pushes of the same button. Boldt would hold his hand on that phone in his coat pocket, ready to call the cavalry if needed. Although LaMoia’s instructions were to call for backup and to wait until it arrived, Boldt knew he’d never wait. That was fine with him.
Yasmani Svengrad sat behind his desk in the office area built into the refrigerated warehouse space. Boldt saw two other guys, one of them Alekseevich, who looked a shade paler than when Boldt had last seen him. Neither man made so much as a gesture that might telegraph their prior introduction. Boldt had been searched, his weapon and his cell phone temporarily confiscated, his plan to signal LaMoia disrupted. The magazine had been removed from his weapon, which now sat useless next to his phone at the far corner of the large desk. Boldt kept his eye on the phone. If he dived for it, he might be able to get the signal off.
Boldt sat down in a chair this time, not waiting for an invitation.
“Where is it?” Svengrad asked. He’d trimmed his beard recently, possibly for the reception, now less than twenty-four hours behind them.
“Where is what?” One of any cop’s most practiced skills was the art of lying. Interrogations required hours of playing straight-faced to the most challenging situation. Boldt knew he excelled at such subterfuge, confident that he could go one-on-one with the most heinous murderer. For all his experience as a military man, Yasmani Svengrad was out of his league.
“You do not want to play such games.”
Boldt knew he was supposed to feel the chill of such a statement, but it struck him as amusing instead. He allowed nothing to be revealed from his expression. He couldn’t be sure Svengrad wouldn’t conceal a tape recorder to later try to use to extort him, so he had to tiptoe around outright admission. Then again, LaMoia’s machine would erase such tapes as well. “Still looking for that money. Is that it?”
“I wired that money out of the bank myself,” Svengrad said, at which point Boldt knew no tape recorders were operating. He felt free to talk openly now.
“I know that.”
“Where is it?”
“You’re the one who wired it. You just said so yourself.”
“The police intercepted it. That was not part of our agreement.”
“If we’d intercepted it, you’d be wearing orange coveralls. It would be front-page news, and I would know about it. But you know that as well, so I’ve got to think that the first thing-the first name-that popped into my head also popped into your head.”
Svengrad opened a desk drawer and placed a black videotape on the blotter in front of him. “We had an agreement,” he said, sliding the tape toward Boldt, who didn’t believe the gesture for a moment.
“This, and how many more copies?”
“The only copy.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Svengrad shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“What is it you want?”
“No,” Svengrad said. “It’s what you want.” He met eyes with Boldt, glanced over to make sure the office door was closed, and said softly, “I’ll give you Alekseevich. Physical evidence, also. You give me immunity, I’ll even give you a witness to the tortures.”
This was an unexpected and exceptional offer, but Boldt showed nothing of his surprise. He eyed the videotape, wondering if it could possibly be the only remaining copy. “And in return?”
“His location. Hayes. Anything you know about where he is. That, and if you have him, then you call off the dogs for a few minutes. Send them out for coffee.”
“You think he did this to you again? Intercepted the wire transfer? Would he do that? He’s not stupid. And even if he did, do you think he’s anywhere any of us could find him?” Boldt allowed a grin. “He did it again?”
Svengrad was not amused. “You know where he is.”
Boldt shook his head.
“You have him in custody. Why else did you lock up Foreman? Hayes is cooperating with you.”
“Foreman is being held by Treasury for questioning, nothing more. No charges have been filed. In the end they’ll determine he has done no wrong. A little overeager is all. Clearing this case took him over. He beat the tar out of Hayes to get to the truth, and then tried to cover his tracks. It happens.”
Svengrad wore a look of contempt. “I’d hoped we could help each other.” He placed his hand on the videotape and drew it back toward himself.
“Let me ask around.”
“It’s the original tape,” Svengrad said, picking up on Boldt’s line of sight.
Boldt knew that already. The neatly typed surveillance title on the spine of the videocassette told him as much. “I thought you were giving it to me. The prior agreement.”
“It’s still possible, but you will have to do this other thing for me.” Boldt suspected this would go on the rest of his career. The tease, the request for another favor. Again he considered LaMoia’s device.
“How would Alekseevich be handled?” he inquired, offering Svengrad the first glimmer of hope.
“However you want. We’d let you know where to find him. You’d pick him up. I’d deny any accusations. I’d need the letter of immunity beforehand.”
That was never going to happen, but Boldt nodded as if it might. The identity of the government snitch would remain protected. “I can make some inquiries.”
“A location for Hayes is all I need. One phone call.”
Boldt retrieved his weapon and cell phone and left. He walked out to LaMoia’s Jetta through a light mist and sat down into the passenger seat.
“So?”
“Blackmail. He wants Hayes. The wire never reached his account.”
“Imagine that,” LaMoia said, knowing Boldt had arranged this, had kidnapped Hayes from the warehouse in order to accomplish this.
“It’s only the two of us. You understand that.”
“Three of us. You have to include Hayes.”
Boldt nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “For a minute there, I debated giving him up. He offered me Alekseevich in return.”
“A lot of good that would do us,” LaMoia said, as angry and frustrated about the protection surrounding Alekseevich as Boldt.
“He was incredibly calm about it,” Boldt said. “I thought he’d be much angrier. Violent, even.”
“That’s good. That means he hasn’t co
“He’s going to use the tape,” Boldt said. “I sat there, and I looked in his eyes, and I knew that he’d take me down at the first opportunity. He wants to believe Hayes did this to him, but he’s not one hundred percent convinced, I don’t think. He’ll burn us, just to get back at me in case I had anything to do with it.”
“It was a hell of a stroke, Sarge, manipulating him to input that account number himself.”
“It’s the only thing saving us. He can convince himself that Liz didn’t cross him because he typed in those numbers himself.”
“And who else but Hayes could intercept that wire?” LaMoia said, admiration for his lieutenant in his voice.
“Right.”
“I found an outlet,” LaMoia said. “There are a couple on the west side of the building. Do me a favor and go home and spend a night with your family. Don’t do anything on this until tomorrow.”