In the ten minutes he had been waiting inside the rental on a deserted cul-de-sac on the outskirts of Fort Walton Beach, no cars had passed by. The nearest streetlamp was far enough away that his vehicle was in darkness and out of sight of the closest residence. He had picked the spot for its privacy.
Acar pulled up and a blond, mid-forties, well-dressed woman exited her vehicle and crossed over to the passenger side of his car. She knocked on the window before opening the door, then stood there with a fake smile. Was the bitch waiting for some kind of engraved invitation?
Vktoria Yevtushenko Driscoll might have fooled Florida’s business community into believing she was a successful entrepreneur, but he knew exactly what she was. His intelligence team had compiled a thick dossier on Driscoll. Not having to worry about burdensome governmental regulations had made it easier for his people to turn over lots of rocks. And there had been plenty of dirt beneath them.
“You screwed up big-time,” he said as she slid into the seat.
“I did what?”
“You heard me. You were paid a substantial amount of money to provide beautiful, compliant whores. That’s not what we got. So now, you’re going to be making it right.”
“What happened was not my fault.”
“Your whore drank too much champagne. She got drunk, slipped, and fell over the railing. Aren’t you responsible for your employees?”
Vicky opened her bee-stung lips to voice her objections, but then under his hard gaze seemed to think better of it. “It was an unfortunate accident.”
He knew Vicky didn’t want to openly challenge him. Things hadn’t turned out well for the last bitch who had done that. Taking it down a notch, he pretended to offer a carrot.
“An accident, but one you’re going to have to make right. Your whore’s clumsiness makes potential problems for all of us, but especially for you.”
His words set her off like an alarm. “Me?”
“You want the cops looking through your affairs? It didn’t take my team long to find out how dirty you and your businesses are.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
Her innocent act, her suddenly pretending not to understand English, wasn’t cutting it with him.
“You understand very well. I hope you’re not starting to believe that Cinderella story you like to tell about a Ukrainian girl who came to the US and found her fortune and true love. Before your crooked husband died, he salted away millions in illegal funds, money you parlayed into the ownership of a resort hotel. That’s your legitimate front, and it’s a good one. Where I was brought up, we’d say you got more money than you could say grace over. I imagine that property is a great place to launder the money from your strip club/whorehouse.”
Vicky was the definition of a Judas goat, he thought. She brought in young and pretty workers on H2B visas and led them to the slaughterhouse.
“I am not without friends,” Vicky said.
“You mean those politicians you bought off? There’s a big difference between those leeches and vampires you deal with and what I represent.”
He turned on a light, so that she could get a good look at him and what he was. That made her very nervous, and for good reason.
“Your friends are minnows, Vicky. They’re not sharks.”
He looked at her and smiled. She saw his teeth and shrank back from them.
“On the night of the accident, I talked to your people. They understood when I told them how it’s in everyone’s best interests to forget what happened. Loose lips sink ships, right? So, we can’t have that. If word gets out, we’d all be held liable. Including you. Especially you. Those who were there understand we’re all looking at some serious jail time. That’s why we have to put all of this behind us. And the way we do that is by having you incentivize their silence with some money.”
The extra precautions might not be necessary, but he wasn’t going to take chances. If matters went as hoped, the drowned girl’s death wouldn’t be carefully scrutinized. Cops typically weren’t very vigilant if they believed the victim was a prostitute. In law enforcement jargon, a hooker’s death was sometimes referred to as an “NHI” death—no human involved.
As expected, though, the whore didn’t like the idea of paying out of pocket. “Karina’s death is already costly to me. And it poses problems.”
“If you don’t spread some money around, that could pose a lot more problems. You’re not stupid. What you’re doing is buying an insurance policy. By taking the blood money you’re offering, it further implicates them and ensures their silence. That’s why you’re going to arrange for everyone who was working the party boat to get ten thousand dollars apiece.”
“That’s too much!”
“This isn’t a negotiation. It’s the market price for guaranteeing collective amnesia.”
“Shouldn’t you pay half?”
His hand shot out, grabbing her chin. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Over the scent of her too-strong perfume, he suddenly caught the smell of her fear. He ground her chin between his thumb and index finger before removing his hand.
Vicky offered him an appeasing smile. She had probably done some oppo research of her own, and knew that not complying with his demands could be very dangerous to her health.
“I will do as you say.”
“I’m glad we understand one another. And I don’t have to tell you that I’ll be keeping tabs on you to make sure you comply with everything we discussed.”
She responded to his threat with a nod.
“Shame your girl fell overboard, but she shouldn’t have been drinking, especially since she didn’t know how to swim. Then again, she paid for her carelessness. None of us can be careless, right?”
Vicky was sitting very still. His insinuation wasn’t lost on her. Still, he was surprised at how compliant she had been. He had expected more of a fight. Was he missing something? He tried to get a read of her eyes, but she was avoiding eye contact. She was afraid of him. That must be it.
Her fear turned him on. For being forty-six years old—Vicky claimed to others she was forty-one—she still looked youthful. Although he preferred redheads, she would do.
“If we’re done with business, let’s move on to the next subject.”
He turned off the car light. To his thinking, he was still owed for what the dead whore hadn’t provided. Pulling down his zipper, he looked at her expectantly.