Chapter 9 Down to the Wire
*
Ramona Sanchez carefully put the cake on the Tupperware plate. " I will slice it for you, Marja Feodorovna! I do not like it, when these nasty guards finger your cakes. Already the thought, that they did this must be disgusting for Mister Ivan!"
The old woman nodded and looked contently at her piece of art. She was masterful, when it came to the art of preparing Russian pastries. All Alioshenka's friends loved them, Ramona's sweet brothers loved them and Mister Ivan always joked, that he'd set up a line of bakery shops for her in Miami – Baba Marija's! She did not understand why the authorities had been so hard on him. Well, she did not approve of his gambling habit and to wager on horses, but pour Ivan Andreevitsch was a lonely man and lonely men developed this type of habit. No wife, no children, only his work….always work. She felt so sorry for the benefactor of her Alijoshenka and made a point of honour to drive with Ramona every week down to that gastly, horrible prison to sit with him, talk to him, bring him cake and nice food and a little bit of distraction: Books, magasins, Russian cross words she bought at the Miami International Bookstore.
"Did you pick up the other things too, child?" She asked Ramona in her staggering English tainted with a strong Russian accent.
Ramona Sanchez closed the Tupperware and carefully set it into the cooling box. "I did, Marja Feodorovna and I bought also a fine After Shave and good shower gel for Mister Ivan. I hope that will make him happy."
Maria Sanchez liked Ivan Sarnoff a lot. He was a perfect gentleman, always soft spoken and very polite. He never ever treated her as if she was just Marja feodorovna's housekeeper and governess, but like a real lady. When he came for diner to the cute little house in Corral Gables, he brought flowers and gifts for the old woman and he always thought of her, too. He saw, that she was young and pretty. He brought her colourful silk shawls, French perfum and occasionally even very pretty and fashionably jewellery. He kissed her hand….not like some slug, who tried to show off, but like a real man…hardly touching her skin with his lips. And he was so educated. Mister Alex had insisted from the very beginning that she was no servant girl and when there was an evening or party, she was not to do service. He always hired some catering service or free lance waiters and she would sit with them. And none of his friends ever had dared to look down on Ramona, just because she had come from Puerto Rico and had been poor and lowly.
"How can they be so cruel, not to allow them normal clothes." She asked Marja Feodorovna.
"He is no criminal, like those other rascals in that prison. Just a poor soul lost to gambling. He may have tried to fix a horse race…..but he did not harm anybody…not even the horse!"
The old woman took a small plate of homemade 'piroshki' from the freezer and passed the Russian delicacies to Ramona. " I do not understand either, Dear. But if I understood Alijosha correctly, Mister Ivan will be back with us for Christmas."
Hardly had the two women finished their extensive preparations for the weekly visit of Ivan Sarnoff, a black limousine stopped in front of the house. Ramona was content that she did not need to drive. She had her licence, but she was pretty much frightened of speed and hated the big car in Marja Feodorovna's garage. It was much too impressive for her.
Today it was Piotr who picked them up, Mister Alex's bodyguard or whatsoever he was. Ramona liked Piotr. She felt save in his company. He reminded her of a huge dog; silent, protective and always close bye. Occasionally he'd take her two younger brothers out fishing or hunting. Rodrigo and Pedro liked Piotr too, even if he hardly ever spoke a word….
Sarnoff's henchman entered the house of Danilenko's grandmother, greated the old woman and her pretty companion amiably, took the cooling box that contained loads of homemade goodies for the boss and complimented the two females out and into the car. He checked readily that the house of Marja feodorovna was shut, alarms set, dog and cats inside and everything ok. Then he slipped behind the steering wheel. They had an hour's drive and another hour left, before they could visit the boss. He'd stay outside in the car. No need to attract attention to Ivan Andreijvitsch's visitors. The guards did not care about the old woman and her pretty young companion. Marja Feodorovna was too honest and too straight forward for them to care and Ramona Sanchez was an innocent, completely devoted to her employer.
"We have time, Ladies!" He told them politely. " Would you care for a stop on our way. There is a nice coffee shop close bye. It opened recently and they have wonderful hot chocolate. Allow me to invite you!"
Babushka and Ramona nodded their agreement.
When they arrived at the coffee shop, Piotr established the two women on the terrace, complimented Ramona dutifully on her pretty dress and mentioned to her, that Mister Ivan would be pleased to see that she wore the fine necklace he'd offered her before his mishap. He knew, that Ivan Andreevitsch would appreciate his having mentioned the necklace. He was not a brilliant mind, but he had memory and he still remembered the pains the boss had taken, when chosing the gift. Ivan Andreevitsch was a hard man, but he had his soft spots and one of them was the cute, little Puerto Rican governess of Aliosha Danilenko's babushka. He went and bought their drinks.
Nevzorov had given him two peculiar items to pass on to the ladies. He had been formal about these. They had to get into Sarnoff's hands.
He returned to their table, placed the chocolate cups in front of the ladies.
"Marja Feodorovna,…." He started.
The old woman listened attentively.
After the drink and small rest, they continued on their way and arrived right in time for the visits. Piotr opened the back doors for his passengers and carried the freezing box and other stuff until they were in front of the gates.
At this moment, Ramona Sanchez made up her mind. She gave a small sign to Piotr, when he wanted to push Sarnoff's envelope into the hands of 'Babushka'.
"No!" She told the huge man softly. "You must not! I will take it together with the cell phone. We must not get Marja Feodorovna involved."
Piotr obliged and passed her the photographs. He gave the girl a broad smile. "You are a good woman, Ramona! We will remember this!" He said. His deep voice was kind, almost awed. The 'Bratstvo' was a rather selective club and it needed quite a lot to get yourself invited. He smiled; this tiny piece of woman had more courage then many of his brothers. He'd see to it, that Vladimir Nevzorov and Alexeij Danilenko would know that, as soon as they were back.
Ramona Sanchez nodded at Piotr and took the cooling bag. " I know." She replied in a low voice. "I have chosen my side….already a long time ago. I know exactly who my friends are!" She took Babushka's arm gently and led the old woman to the security check. Her face was the pleasant and slightly innocent mask, it wore during all these visits. She was fully aware of the great risk she was taking, but she was also convinced that the risk was worth being taken. Nobody had ever cared for her. Nobody had ever given a shit about how she or her brothers lived….until the day she had signed up that contract wit Alex Danilenko. On that very day her life had changed and to some people she had suddenly become more then an unwanted immigrant…she had become a human being, a human being that was treated with respect. The risk was worth taking! She was firmly convinced, that Ivan Andreevitsch was clever enough to understand immediately what everything was about…..
***
The Préfecture de Police, headed by the Préfet de Police, is an agency of the Government of France and part of the French National Police, which provides the police force for the city of Paris and the surrounding three départements of Hauts-de-Seine, Seine-Saint-Denis, and Val-de-Marne. It is also in charge of emergency services, such as the Paris Fire Brigade, and performs administrative duties, such as issuing ID cards and driver licenses or monitoring alien residents. The Prefecture of Police also has limited security duties in the wider Île-de-France région. It was a large building located in the Île de la Cité on Place Louis Lupin, 1, rue de la Cité, close to the Metro Station Cité and it dated back to the midst of the and had been buildt under Napoleon III. by the Baron Hausmann to provide a lodging to the "Guardians of the republique", the earlier, mounted police force of the French capitale.
Ryan Wolfe knew the impressive historical monument fairly well. He had been inside with Jean-Paul Moulin, his childhood friend. They had had lunch at the cafeteria and JP had shown him the premises of the Parisian CSI, the "Institut Medico-Légale" just for fun. Now at nighttime, the beautiful Préfecture looked more like a castle in a fairy tale then headquarters of the French capital's law enforcement.
They passed the check point quickly. The uniformed policemen at the great main gate just smiled and opened the barrier. Wolfe saw, that his Russian mobster shadow was quickly hurried out of the car by several helpful hands. The "downthrodden whore", she was in fact Lieutenant Pauline Lamperière of the 'Organised Crimes Division' and a highly experienced police officer took charge of the guy. Her boss – the smelly bump - Francois Delveaux, commandant of the Organised Crime and with whom he had sympathised during the ride from CDg to Paris stayed with him and Moulin. The fourth man – the junkkie and one of Jean Paul's officers simply excused himself and disappeared into the night, as soon as they were inside the building..
" So what now?" Wolfe asked his childhood friend. He was dead tired and hardly capable to put one foot in front of the other.
Moulin put his arm over his shoulder and hushed him into the building. "As you may already have realised, my dear friend…..we have next to nothing against this Mister Belkin!" The French police officer gave his CSI colleague a fabulous smile. He looked almost like Garfield the Cat. "But since we are paupers and have nothing against him, sweet Pauline was clever enough to slip a small plastic bag with 20 gramms of pure heroine into his pocket. You can be sure, that our more straight-forward and law-abiding colleagues at the 'Reception Desk' will find the stuff."
Wolfe grinned, nothwithstanding his broken ribs which were literally killing him. He was rather close to kill himself….for a 20 pack of Ibuprofen or any other non-steroid painkiller on the French market. He abandonned pride and self esteem and gratefully leaned against Moulin's shoulder.
Delveaux, still smelly and in his bump disguise chuckled nastily: "You are in a hell of a state, Ryan! Shouldn't you rather be in bed then hang out with the crowd."
Wolfe stopped in his pace, riddened himself of the supportive arm of Moulin and tourned around. "What?" His voice was much stronger, then his knees.
Delveaux shrougged his shoulders, smiled innocently and pointed his finger at Wolfe's chest. "You are leaking, mate! I saw it already at Roissy Rail Station, but I am not a spoil-fun." He snatched his US colleague's arm and gave his French colleague from RAID a nasty look. "Are you either very blind or simply very stupid, JP!" He stated matter-of-fact. Then he mummbled something about downstairs, 'The Morgue' and the night shift MD, who sould be there.
***
Ramona Sanchez passed the security check of BunkerHill together with 'Babushka'. She carried the cooling bag over one arm and had her other arm hocked under Marja Fedorovna's right. With a determined voice she stated, that they had come to see Prisoner Ivan Sarnoff. The guard checked their Ids, opened the cooling bag, gave the Tupperwared cake a coursory glance and left them in.
She settled the old lady in a chair, placed her bag on the floor and waited. When Sarnoff's name was announced and the security gates opened, she straigtened her soulders, gave 'Babushka' a comforting squeeze and ran litteraly into the Russian mobster's arms.
"You must trust me now, Mister Ivan!" She whispered into his ear, her head against his cheek. " Just pretend, that you are happy to see me. I have things for you…."
Ivan Sarnoff reacted immediately. He flung his arms around Ramona Sanchez, lifted her of the floor and placed a quick kiss onto her cheek. "I have always trusted you, Beautiful!" He whispered, pulling her lean, slender form against his own body and inspiring deeply the scent of her flowery perfume. "And as soon as I am out of this loathsome place, I will prove it to you!" He ran his hands gently over her back and up to her collar bones, caressing her as if they were lovers. Ramona shuddered.
"There is an envelope and a cell phone hidden in my dress, Mister Ivan!" She whispered. She enjoyed feeling his lean muscular body against hers and shivered slightly in his arms.
"I could not care less!" The Russian mobster replied truthfully, but he extracted the illegal goods nonetheless with experienced hands from Ramona's bodice.
****
"What have you been thinking?"
Ryan Wolfe suddenly realised that he was no longer on his way up a Hausmann staircase but somewhere down in a rather cold and empty place. His jacket was gone and so was his tie. His shirt was open. The face in front of him was bespectacled, probably slightly over 50, bearded and compassionate. It reminded him of his favourite teedy bear, when he had been a child. Teddy face held a long and slender implement in his left and was tapping it gently with his right hand's index finger.
"This will do the trick, Moulin!" He said. "I am not terribly used to life beings, but I can still tell you, that your friend should not be here."
When the slender and long implement hit his vein, Ryan Wolfe felt a sudden relief. The killer ribs ceased to exist and he started to breath again.
"I have no idea, what happened to your friend…" Bespectacled explained to JP and the smelly bump Delveaux in a voice, that was as cold as his morgue, "But if you really intend to drag him upstairs, you may provide me with another client soon….be reasonable, guys!"
It sounded to Wolfe as if the Teddy Face was advising both, Jean Paul and Delveaux against taking him upstairs, where they would have finally an occasion to speak with his shadow. He was not willing to agree with that paranoid MD. He wanted to have his jacket and tie back. And he wanted to go upstairs…..he wanted to know, why the guy with the tasteless diamond-rimed Rolex had been on his heels since Miami…and if Ivan Sarnoff was behind all this.
Delveaux and Moulin exchanged looks. Moulin was the first to speak.
'Ecoute, Francois – Listen, Francois….. '
The smelly bump nodded, the teddy-faced MD grudgingly agreed and fixed a pristine, new band-aid over Wolfe's "leak". The embarrassing veil lifted, when the stuff the MD had injected started to kick in.
"I am going upstairs with you!" The CSI explained with stubborn determination to his two French nannies. " I have dragged this bugger all along from Miami….I want to be rid of him."
Francois Delveaux gave a deep sigh. "Then pray, Ryan and pray quickly that there is whatsoever on his BlackBerry that is embarrassing or illegal or queer…..or else we are obliged to allow Mister Tim Belkin to leave our premises within 48 hours…together with the excuses of the organised Crime Unit and Monsieur le Préfet!"