Having made certain that at least one of our officers was stationed just outside the mansion’s gate, but in full view of each of its two major access points, I headed back to the station.
On top of my message pile was one from Marsha Russo, who was still in Rockford. I returned the call.
“I made contact with the wife, Buddy.”
“And?”
“She doesn’t want to meet with me.”
“Did she say why?”
“Something in the neighborhood of it’s none of my business.”
“What neighborhood?”
“The ‘Fuck off’ neighborhood.”
“So, what do you do next?”
“She’s living with her parents. I know their address and I’m heading there now.”
“With no assurance she’ll see you.”
“Oh, she’ll see me, all right.”
“How do you figure that?”
“I’m very persuasive.”
“What’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
“How do you plan on getting her to see you?”
“The old foot in the door gambit.”
“The foot in the door gambit?”
“You have a better idea?”
My next call was to my father, whom I found in his office here at the station. He invited me to join him. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he said when I told him about my experience with Boris Petrov.
“He’s some piece of business, this Russian of yours.”
“So, what do you advise?”
“Hard to say because there’s this gathering storm of opposition that wants to smother you.”
“You’re not suggesting I drop it, are you?”
“Not in this lifetime. I like what you’re doing.”
“This gathering storm, as you put it, is comprised of a host of self-righteous, self-serving, self-important plutocrats including, I might add, the Russian president.”
“Daunting.”
“You think?”
“Look, Buddy. You knew you were up against some kind of inexorable force when you set out on this adventure. This Petrov is unlike anyone you, or even I for that matter, have ever come up against. He plays in an entirely different league.
“But you won the first round. And you’re close to having enough on him to open a full scale investigation into whatever it is he’s doing. The man you shot is in custody. As is his partner. A couple of Petrov’s bodyguard contingent are still sitting in a Los Angeles jail awaiting extradition. Use them to help you find the pharmacists in the white lab coats. And when you find them, squeeze the sons of bitches. Get this Russian dickhead dead to rights and then see how the so-called gathering storm plays out. I’m betting it’ll be like rats in a sinking ship.
“And use that lawyer of yours as a buffer. She said she could help deflect Petrov’s efforts to stop you. Hold her feet to that fire.”
He hadn’t finished but was still formulating what he wanted to tell me. “And do me a favor,” he said finally.
“What?”
“Keep your gun with you at all times. Locked and loaded. Sleep with it under your pillow.”
“Because?”
“This guy’s lethal. Lethal. Amoral. Unethical. Totally unpredictable. So you’ll want to talk softly and carry a big stick.”
“Or a high-powered, semi-automatic weapon.”
“That, too.”