"Stupid son of a bitch," Malinowski heard a deep voice boom from a few feet away say. "You took the wrong one!"
"She said she was Rebecca McCoy," another voice whined,"You gave us nothing but a name and location. How would we-"
The voice was aburptly replaced by the sharp sound of a palm meeting the speakers face.
"Idiot! Take one look at this bitch and even you should see she's too old to be his daughter," he spat. "You know what Rostov wanted us to do with her? His whores are teenagers …a few in their twenties…we can't put this one to work."
A chill went through her as Malinowski realized the meaning behind the exchange.She risked opening her eyes. Her lids fluttered open slowly, only long enough for her to see the man who had held the garment bag, holding his jaw as another man glared at him from across what appeared to be a deserted parking garage.
She found herself bound and gagged in a van maybe thirty feet from them. The back doors open; giving her a clear view of the exchange.
"What about a ransom," the bag man suggested."She was in the girl's room. She must know McCoy."
Malinowski lowered her eyelids, as the pair glanced towards her.
"This wasn't about money," the other man snapped. "McCoy sent Rostov back to Moscow to be sentenced on human trafficking charges. Karl will never see the light of day again thanks to that arrogant pig. For Karl, it's not about money. It's about revenge."
"But Rostov isn't here," the other man persisted."Listen, we have a woman that is valuable to this McCoy. Why not give Rostov his revenge and get a few dollars for ourselves? Where's the harm in that?"
Rostov.
It was a name Malinowski vaguely remembered hearing. She thought about the scrapes of information she had gleaned from the conversation. After a few moments, she it came to her. The deportation of Russian Karl Rostov had been big news, just before McCoy brought charges against another Russian... Nicolas Brezin... for murdering Rostov's brother.
It was one of McCoy's last cases before becoming DA.
She remembered how outraged Rotov's attorney Stan Webber was. Months after his client had been deported, he came to her office to negotiate a plea bargain with her in Suffolk County, on another case. Malinowski had dealt with Webber numerous times in her years with the DA's office. While she found many of his clients unsavory at best, she also found Webber himself, to be ethically sound.
As they negotiated, Malinowski had made an off the cuff remark referring to a New York county case that had similar facts and offered Webber the same plea that defendant had gotten there. Webber went off.
"Damn it Brooke, I thought this was Suffolk County. If I wanted the same plea that Nazi gave in Manhattan, I'd go back to McCoyville," Webber snapped.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Malinowski snapped back."If fifteen to twenty is good enough for Jack McCoy, why the hell would I accept less time for the same crime in my county? We may not be 'McCoyville' on this side of the bridge, but were not 'Polliannaville' either. What exactly is the problem, Stan?"
While Webber relied the story of McCoy's trade of one defendat for another; a deal that reminded Malinowski of a bad B movie depicting a trade of spies at old Checkpoint Charlie, she had felt a sense of both horror and awe.
Horror that something so against everything the founders held dear could occur in her own country. Awe that Jack McCoy had the balls to try such a daring plan, not only get a crack at a murderer, but seek justice for the dozens of Russian women Rostov had kidnapped and whored out in New York.
"…just get the ring and hurry up," the bag man was saying, as the sound of footsteps grew closer. "We'll send it to McCoy before we cross the border, after we dump the van."
Malinowski fought to clear the remaining effects of the drug, at the same time she tried to roll herself into a position of strength while appearing to still be a sleep. Although the prospect of being a kidnap victim in the hands of the Russian mob terrified her, it also made her choices even clearer.
They been planning to kidnap and pimp out Jack McCoy's child, for simple revenge. If she wanted to live, Malinowski knew she had to take any chance she had to either escape or slow her captors down.
She felt one of the men lean against her. He held her left hand out and she could feel her ring slide off. With as much strength as she could muster, she brought her bound legs up and under her, swiftly pushing into his gut and upward. As the heels of her shoes dig into his flesh, she heard him swear.
She opened her eyes in time to see him fall to the cement floor. As she began to inch forward, the other man reached inside and slapped her with enough force to knock her backwards.
Both men were yelling in Russian; the standing man helped the other to his feet. The stricken man ripped the shoes from her feet and hurled them across the parking lot before reaching into his pocket. Malinowski could see him pouring something on a white cloth, before the pair crawled towards her.
She tried to push out again, but the injured man held her down, as the other leaned over her.
After nearly slapping her into unconsciousness, he grabbed her face and Malinowski met the lifeless eyes above her.
"Understand this: If you try anything like that again, we will send you back to McCoy in pieces. Some small," he said as a cool hand ran over her bare ring finger.
"Some larger," he continued as his hand moved to and roughly squeezed her left breast, before reaching back for the handkerchief laced with chloroform.