Chapter 10: The Visitor

The next step in Munch's treasure hunt for truth was a shabby nightclub that seemed to have walked straight out of some cliché film noir. He entered the shadowy doorways and almost walked into an oversized bouncer. "I don't know who you think you are, but I guarantee you ain't on the list," the wiry, scarred man said.

"I'm looking for Konstantin Budny."

"Who are you?"

Munch tried to sound confident. "I have some business to discuss with him."

The bouncer glared at him, then beckoned him to follow into a side room.

"Who's this?" a man with a Russian accent asked.

"You don't know 'im?"

"I've never seen this man before in my life."

The bouncer turned on his heels and punched Munch in the face. Munch reeled back against the door. The man socked him in the gut and he collapsed to his knees with the wind knocked out of him.

"Who sent you?" the man Munch assumed was Budny demanded. "If it was that scum Carlton..."

"GeoZet," Munch gasped. It was the first thing that came to his mind, and was easier to articulate and probably safer than explaining he was a cop.

Budny's eyes widened. He uttered a short string of colorful Russian expletives. "I'm sorry; I didn't know." He helped Munch up and into a chair.

It took several minutes for Munch to be able to talk again. He wasn't particularly good at lying, but he decided that was the only safe course of action. "You remember Serim Araizhanova?"

"The Kazakh lady lawyer with the legal troubles? Yeah. That was a long time ago. What's she to GeoZet now?"

"She's been arrested for killing her husband."

"Wouldn't put it past the broad. Too bad. I liked her."

"Some people in GeoZet think she was framed."

Budny nodded. "Now I remember. I thought she and Spijker were a thing back in the day. They found anyone to pin it on yet?"

"That's what I came here to ask you. Do you know who might have a grudge against her?"

"Yes, I can think of five right of the top of my head. You know how much she cost Pavlo Kedziersky when she skipped town in the middle of his trial? I heard Aglaya Karenian vowed to track her down when they learned she really was working with the Americans. But my money's on Samoneit."

"Samoneit?"

"Yeah, you know...the guy who got locked up because of her. Aras Samoneit. Anyone else would have just knocked off Araizhanova instead of going after her husband. She still married to that Petrov?"

"Wait," it was the bouncer who interrupted. "You mean the guy who got whacked was Petrov? Yermolai Petrov?"

Munch looked at him, surprised. "Yeah. Why? You knew him?"

"No, but there was a hit put out on him a while ago." He looked at Budny. "Remember Lilah Evans? She came to town after the hit was put out. The client requested a woman assassin."

"How long ago was that?" Munch asked.

"I don' know, a couple of months."

"Do you know who put out the hit?" Budny asked his underling.

"No. I didn't hear."

Budny turned to Munch. "I guess that's as much as we can do for you. Don't you go telling Zelle and his guys that we weren't cooperative."

"Don't worry, you've been more than helpful," Munch assured the gangster.

Munch stumbled up the stairs to his apartment after midnight. His stomach ached and one of his eyes was swollen shut.

He was about to open his door when he noticed dim light along the bottom crack. He took out his gun and eased the door open. He took a step inside.

"Well, well. Look who's home."

Munch swung around, and he found himself looking at his partner, who was sitting calmly on the sofa. He quickly put away his gun. "What are you doing here, Fin?"

"I can't come by and check on my sick partner?" he asked mock-innocently. "Imagine my surprise when my sick partner ain't at home. So I wait around for him and he walks in at..." he glanced at the clock, "Twelve fifty-one in the a.m. lookin' like something the cat wouldn't drag in. You get in a bar fight or somethin'?"

"I know better than to drink with how sick I am." He faked a cough. "I tripped going up the stairs of the subway coming back from the doctor."

"Tripped and fell on somebody's fist is more like it. Why are you lying to me? What's up wit' you?"

Munch frowned. He didn't want to lie to his partner, but could he really tell him the truth? "I'm handling some personal business."

"What's personal about the Petrov case?"

Munch looked surprised. It had been months since they investigated that murder; how could Fin have connected the dots?

"You been acting like this since Araizhanova got put away. I know you visited her in prison. But, see, that's what I don't get. For you, that case has stopped being about the victim and become about the killer."

"It's about Serim," Munch said abruptly. "This case has always been about Serim. Petrov was murdered because of Serim. They came to America because of Serim."

Fin stared at him. He thought he knew why.

"I'm not in love with her, if that's what you're thinking."

"Then what is it, Munch? Why this case? Why this convict?"

Munch sighed and slowly sank into his sofa. "I don't know. I guess I'm just...I'm just tired of feeling so helpless. In my decades on the force, I've seen good people die, families destroyed, murderers walk free...I have images in my head that I'm happy to think will die with me. Serim's innocent. Don't ask me how I know; I just know. She'll be locked up for the rest of her life, away from her family, from the life she's built here...unless I do something. I guess that's why this case, because I can do something about it. And I'm going to." He looked up, and said what he had only just realized. "No matter what it costs me."

Fin stared at him hard. "And what am I supposed to say to the captain if you turn up dead?"

"That you had no idea what I was up to." He met Fin's stare. "Please," he added plaintively.

Fin stood up. "I better not find you dead in some gutter, old man."

Munch nodded. "Thank you," he said as Fin walked toward the door.

He looked back for a moment. "You should get some ice for that," he said, then left.