Finding the Fit Chapter 33
"All right, Mr. Senna, calm down and tell us what happened," Kate urges.
"Exactly what happened," Rick adds.
Gomer swipes his forearm across his forehead and swallows. "I was playing blackjack and really had a streak going. I was winning big, you know? When I got two tens, I thought I had it made, so I split them to win double. Then everything fell apart, but the dealer, the floor supervisor, seemed really sympathetic, you know? They convinced me I'd just hit a bump in the road and allowed me to use a marker to keep playing."
"How big a marker?" Rick asks.
"Fifty big ones. It was way more than I usually played with, but I was sure that I could win back everything and more."
"Didn't work out that way, huh?" Rick queries.
"It did for the first few hands. I was feeling the rush again so I started betting higher – and losing higher. Then I put everything I had left on one final hand to get a stake back."
"And you lost," Rick concludes.
"Hit on a fifteen and got a ten. That's when the roof really fell in."
"Vulcan Simmons put the screws to you," Kate offers. "What did he want?"
"If I tell you," Senna whines, "I'm toast."
"You're burnt toast if you don't," Rick points out. "You got picked up by a marked unit. Somebody had to see that, which means that Simmons knows by now."
"Whether you talk to us about him or not, he'll assume you did," Kate declares.
"Which means that telling Detective Beckett everything Simmons said is your only chance to live another day," Rick warns.
Tugging at his collar, Senna swallows again. "You've got to protect me."
"I will," Kate assures him.
"All right," Senna agrees.
"So," Rick says, carefully crafting a sugar-free vanilla-flavored no-fat latte for Kate, "We've got Vulcan Simmons' connection to politics, at least local politics."
Kate scowls. "But not his connection to Bracken."
"Seems like Sergei Abdulov or Yuri Petrovich would be our best bets for that," Rick offers.
"More Abdulov, than Petrovich right now," Kate figures. "So far, all Petrovich has done is provide a bus. That's not illegal. But now that we've got Senna's statement about Simmons' gambling den, we at least have a basis for tagging Abdulov when he's delivering dirty money. Then we can squeeze him about the drug operation and its connection to Bracken."
"If he's just a bag man, that wouldn't put him very high in the chain of command," Rick points out. "He may not know that much about what goes on at the top."
"We'll do what the SDNY does with RICO cases: take whatever we can from the guys at the bottom, and then move up the line. Abdulov must be able to give us something on Petrovich. Given Petrovich's conspicuous display of big bucks, that will be a substantial jump upward. We already have Abdulov's connection to Petrovich from his interaction with the women on Petrovich's bus. He doesn't need to know we don't have anything else."
Rick grins. "Clever."
"Only if it works," Kate cautions. "We'll need to grab Abdulov next time he brings his satchel to Simmons' operation."
"Sounds like another stakeout. Would you like me to bring a picnic suitable for van service?"
A smile teases Kate's lips. "Sure, Castle. That would be nice."
Kate pops the last of a pastrami on rye into her mouth as she watches a monitor. "Looks like Abdulov is right on time. He's even carrying the same bag." She presses the com button on the control console. "We're moving in now."
Ryan and Esposito emerge from the shadows east of the building to converge silently with Kate and Rick on the hidden door. "Now," Kate says into her radio as it begins to slide open. As the other detectives block his retreat, Kate sticks her badge in Abdulov's face. "Sergei Abdulov, you are entering an illegal gambling establishment. You need to come with me."
Abdulov stares at Kate for a moment before trying to sprint between the two male detectives. Both take after him, and Esposito brings him down with a flying tackle.
Fury glints in Sergei Abdulov's eyes as he sits, handcuffed, opposite Kate in Interrogation One. "Have a nice night in Holding?" Kate asks. "Too bad about the company. But I heard he only barfed his guts out in the cell four times, or was it five? In any case, I understand you had your chai this morning. Sorry, it was cold. We can't take a chance of prisoners burning themselves – or anyone else. So what were you going to do with all the money you were carrying?"
"I don't need to tell you anything," Abdulov spits out.
"That's true," Kate acknowledges. "We can charge you with illegal gambling, resisting arrest, and obstructing a police investigation without you saying a word. But the lab is analyzing your bag and the money in it. We should have the results any minute, and that should be…." Kate's cell phone buzzes. "Yes. I see. Thank you." Kate puts her phone down and looks back at Sergei. "Both the cash and the bag are positive for drugs."
Abdulov snorts. "Detective, you can do better than that. I think we both know that more than 90% of U.S. currency tests positive for drugs – evidence of the decadency of your country."
"Actually, Sergei, decadent or not, 92% tests positive for cocaine. But what was on your bills wasn't just cocaine, it was heroin, with a profile indicating it originated in Afghanistan. According to Interpol, you've been involved in facilitating drug shipments from Afghanistan for your pals in," Kate points to Sergei's tattoo, "Re-emergence. Congratulations, you can add drug trafficking to the list of charges against you. And we can throw in smuggling cash, which will be worth another five years. So right now, you have a choice. You can cooperate with us, or you can say goodbye to the daylight until you're too old to walk out of prison on your own power."
Sergei slaps his palm against the table. "I will never betray Re-emergence. I took a blood oath."
"I'm not worried about Re-emergence," Kate returns. "That's a problem for Interpol and Russia. I want the man running the drug operations in my city and in my country."
"I don't know anything about Vulcan Simmons," Sergei protests. "I just bring him money."
"I'm not talking about Vulcan Simmons," Kate says, "I'm talking about the big boss. What do you know about him?"
"Nothing except that he has almost unlimited power. But I don't know who he is," Sergei claims. "That's the truth."
"So, who do you know?" Rick queries. "Who gives you your orders?"
"Petrovich, Yuri Petrovich."
"And he gives you the cash to take to Vulcan Simmons?" Kate questions.
"Yes. He gives me the cash."
"And how about the women? Who sends them?" Kate presses.
"Petrovich, also Petrovich."
Pushing out of her seat, Kate stares down at Sergei. "I'm going to check that out, and it better be the truth, Abdulov."
Abdulov seems to shrink as air slowly leaves his lungs. "It is, I swear it."
Kate signals to Rick to leave the room with her. They study Abdulov through the one-way mirror. "Do you believe him?"
Rick nods. "I do. He's probably been fed all the propaganda about Americans torturing prisoners. The idea of spending the rest of his life in one of our prisons scared the sh*t out of him, Beckett."
Kate's teeth find her lip. "I hope you're right, but now we have to get everything we can on Yuri Petrovich."