LOLA ROSARIO gave them an address, an old brick warehouse in downtown Newark, recently converted to lofts. The penthouse belonged to somebody named Andrei Volovoi.
“LePlavy says he’s Romanian,” Stevens told Windermere. “Immigrated to America about five years ago, no criminal record. No record of employment, either. LePlavy says from his picture he’s a ringer for the third guy at the container lot.”
“So he’s the guy who did Sladjan Dodrescu,” Windermere said. “Andrei Volovoi. How does he tie in to the Dragon?”
Stevens stared up at the apartment building, at the tactical team piling out of an FBI bread van down the block. “I don’t know, Carla,” he said. “Let’s get up there and find out.”
> > >
ANDREI VOLOVOI’S HOME was one big room, granite and marble and exposed brick and beam, a large balcony with a view of the Manhattan skyline in the distance, a messy kitchen and an unmade king-size bed behind gauzy curtains. Empty food cartons everywhere, drug paraphernalia. Two girls on the couch, smoking a joint.
They spooked when the tactical guys burst through the door, huddled together and screamed and wouldn’t stop. Stevens braced himself, figured the women were some of the Dragon’s human cargo, felt a sudden excitement when he realized these girls forged a solid link between Volovoi and the skin trade.
Then one girl, a bottle blonde, looked him dead in the eye. “Please don’t hurt us,” she said with a Jersey Shore accent. “The drugs aren’t ours, I swear.”
Americans. Shit.
Turned out the women were Volovoi’s paid companions. Party girls. “He pays us to hang out,” the Jersey blonde—Carrie—told Stevens and Windermere. “Come around for the parties, flirt with his friends, you know, dance and stuff.”
“Sure,” Stevens said. “You know where he is now?”
“Andrei?” Carrie glanced at her friend, who’d so far stayed silent. “We don’t really ask questions. He’s not really the talkative type.”
“When’d you see him last?”
“God, like, a couple days ago, maybe?”
“But you’re still here,” Windermere said.
Carrie shrugged. “There was a guy here, earlier. Andrei’s friend, or whatever, just hanging around. You never know when the party’s gonna start, you know?”
“I guess so.” Windermere walked to the window. “We’re looking for a guy named Pavel Demetriou, calls himself ‘the Dragon.’ I don’t suppose you’ve heard that name before, have you?”
“The Dragon?” Carrie made a face. “Yeah, I heard it. He’s some big-time guy—like, really big. I think he was Andrei’s partner.”
Carrie’s friend spoke up for the first time. “I heard he’s the guy who made Andrei kill Bogdan and Nikolai.”
“Nikolai, like Kirilenko?” Stevens said. “Andrei Volovoi killed them?”
“That’s what everyone’s saying,” Carrie said. “They say Andrei killed them on account of they screwed something up on the job.”
“It’s shitty,” Carrie’s friend said. “I liked Bogdan. He was cool.”
“Bogdan,” Windermere said. “Bogdan who?”