Chapter 53

 

As he drove, Bart considered and then discarded several possible arguments he might put forth to convince Harry not to pursue criminal charges against Ilona. None of the scenarios felt right, so he decided that when the time came he would play it by ear.

His arrival at the State Police Barracks came as something of a surprise. During the trip he had been so engrossed in planning the task that lay ahead, he had virtually no recollection of the drive. He sat for a few minutes, still and quiet before he turned off the engine and emerged from the car.

He was confidant that what he hoped to accomplish was not motivated by any physical or emotional attraction for Ilona. It was clear the two of them had connected because of the enormous burden of personal sorrow they both carried. Each mirrored the other’s grief. Both had suffered devastating losses, and their deep sadness and mutual need for solace had manifested itself as physical attraction. The realization liberated Bart to pursue her cause without guilt.

His stride quickened as he approached the building. In the course of the several steps it took to reach the front door, his apprehension vanished and he was converted from a tentative, hesitant petitioner into a man energized by the belief that any further punishment heaped on Ilona would be cruel, purposeless and unacceptable. This was a time to put law aside and opt instead for justice and human kindness.

The first person he met inside the building was Della Conroy. 

“Looks like you guys have this one in the bag,” she said. “Great work.”

“Your boss did most of the work. I just rode along and drank his rotten coffee.”

She smiled. “I know what you mean. I’m a frequent victim of that coffee. Anyway, he’s waiting for you in his office.”

“Thanks for your help, Della. The information you provided got the investigation aimed in exactly the right direction. After that, everything fell into place.”

She nodded and smiled again.

When Bart entered Tallman’s office, the detective looked up from the papers on his desk. “I was concerned, Bart. I thought I would have to send missing persons out after you.”

“Sorry, Harry. I spent a lot of time with Ilona, and I got the complete story. I have to tell you, it’s one hell of a story. When I left Loveland, I was really depressed, so instead of coming straight back here, I drove to the scene of Linda’s accident. I’m not really sure why I went there; I just felt the need.”

Tallman pushed back in his chair. “I can understand that.”

“While I was there, I met the couple that lives at the scene of the accident. I’d spoken with him briefly right after it happened. Today he came over to my car and introduced himself and his wife. He’s a guard at the state prison just up the road. They’re wonderful people and we got to talking, and an hour or so slipped by. Anyway, here I am.”

“Yes, here you are. You want to tell me about your meeting with Ilona?”

“Harry, it’s the most fascinating and frightening story I’ve ever heard. If I’d read it in a book I‘d have shrugged it off as too farfetched to be believed. The whole thing started about thirty years ago in Hungary. A Soviet tank commander murdered Ilona’s mother, Laszlo’s wife. From that moment on, Laszlo dedicated his life to destroying the Russian.”

Bart settled into his chair and spent the next hour retelling Ilona’s story. Tallman was so engrossed he didn’t interrupt Bart with questions or take any notes. When Bart completed the narrative, Tallman looked down at his blank note pad for a few seconds, then up at Bart.

“I’ve been a cop for a lot of years, and I’ve come across some really strange stuff, but this has to be the absolute weirdest story I’ve ever heard.”

“Laszlo was like Ahab chasing after the white whale that took his leg. Nothing short of dying was going to stop him. The saddest part is, like Ahab, he took a lot of innocent people down with him.”

There was a knock on the door. When Tallman acknowledged, Della Conroy entered.

“I’m off in half an hour, boss. I was wondering if you wanted me to hang around to help with anything.”

“No thanks, but you know what? I really need a break. If you have nothing planned, why don’t you join Bart and me for an early dinner? You’ve been in on this one from the start, so you probably want to be there at the finish. Bart just told me a story I think you’re going to find heartbreaking and amazing.”

“That’s much too good an offer to refuse. I’ve got about fifteen minutes of paperwork to wrap up. As soon as that’s done I’ll be ready.”

“Sounds like a plan, Della. See you in a few.”

When the door closed behind her, Bart broached the subject of Ilona. “I’m terribly concerned about Ilona and what’s going to happen to her.”

“Do me a favor, Bart. You’ve just thrown a load of information at me and I’d like to take some time to sort it out and digest it. Can we pick up on it after dinner?”

“We can. Meanwhile, I’m going to the men’s room to see if I can get cleaned up a bit. I feel like the rag they use at gas stations to check oil. It’s been an extremely long difficult day, and the sun hasn’t even begun to set.”

During the short drive from the barracks to the steak house, much of the conversation was about issues peripheral to the Hungarians and the Russians. Carlos came up first.

“This was a first offense for Carlos,” Tallman said, “and a nonviolent crime, so the Hamilton County prosecutor was willing to let him off with a fine, probation and some community service. When he checked with me, I told him I was okay with that. I thought Carlos’s real crime was being first degree stupid. The feds weren’t as charitable. They’d invested a lot of time into the Russian’s money-laundering scheme. They were hoping to send several Soviet Embassy employees back home as persona-non-grata and arrest a whole bunch of Soviet agents. Worst of all, they broke two of their precious black cars chasing Kalakov, and you know how that pisses them off, so they’re insisting on their pound of flesh. It looks like Carlos is going to do a bit of federal time for tipping off their raid. If he’s smart, he’ll accept a plea bargain and probably only do about a year. If it goes to trial it could cost him five. It’ll be his call. What’s the old saying, beauty is only skin deep but stupid goes right to the bone. From what you tell me, Bart, being smart has never been one of Carlos’s great strengths.”

“No, it hasn’t, but I hope his lawyer convinces him to get the best deal he can. Being stupid and aggravating shouldn’t be a reason to do any more hard time than is absolutely necessary. I don’t like the guy even a little, but I’d hate to see him go down too hard.“And while we’re on the subject of hard time, Harry, whatever happened to the guy who torched his warehouse?”

“Claxton’s pled guilty. His sentencing comes up in a couple of weeks. No one was killed or badly injured, so they should let him off with two-and-a-half to five. They’ve lost their house, and I understand his wife has gone to live with her sister in Peoria while he does his time.”

“Talk about being stupid. If dumb were an Olympic event, Claxton and Carlos probably have won gold and silver, with Claxton’s watchman picking up the bronze.”

Della spoke for the first time. “Everyone was stupid. Even the two Hungarians, who were both educated men. Laszlo couldn’t see beyond his mindless drive for vengeance and Arpad let himself be enslaved by loyalty. Then there’s that stripper. Belsky was a super meal ticket for her, possibly forever. But the golden eggs weren’t enough. Now there’s no goose, no eggs, she took a bullet, and she’s going away for extortion. You guys are the only smart ones.”

Bart commented as they pulled into the parking lot, “Us and you, Della.”

Tallman and Della, in uniform, and Bart in a rumpled suit, his collar unbuttoned and his wrinkled tie askew, were seated at the rear of the restaurant. Shortly after they arrived, the owner placed a bottle of wine on the table and told Tallman what a great pleasure it was to have him and his friends in his restaurant.

“Hey boss, what the heck was that all about?” Della asked.

“Rod and I went to high school together. For the two years I was a starting varsity pitcher, he was my catcher. We were friends, but as often happens, after we graduated we drifted apart. About eight years ago, just before I transferred to arson, he came to me and told me his son was into drugs and maybe was starting to deal to support his habit. He asked if I could help him. I told him I would. I followed his son for a few nights. When I caught him making a buy, I busted him, brought him to the barracks and tossed him in a cell overnight, without booking him. Early the next morning I went downstairs with Sam Denacola, a fellow trooper. Sam was an ex-Marine, big as a wall and mean looking enough to scare the hell out of a junkyard dog. The kid had no way of knowing what a sweet guy and great family man Sam was. I stood by as Sam told the kid he was a friend of his father, and if he ever caught him buying, selling or using again, guaranteed, he would regret the day he was born. I thought the kid was going to shit his pants, but it worked, he’s been clean ever since. Four years ago, he went up to New York to the Culinary Institute of America. Now he runs the kitchen here. The way things turned out, Rod would kill for me if I asked him. My hardest job is getting him to take my money when I eat here. The only sad part of the story happened a year later. Sam was on patrol when a drunk in a dump truck t-boned his cruiser and killed him.”

“God, that’s awful,” said Della.

“It was, but it’s one of the risks that come with the job. Hey, enough about the past. Bart, tell Della the story you told me about the Hungarians, but make it the short version, I’d like to get home in time to have breakfast with my wife and kids.”

“Like I told Harry,” Bart said to her, “if I hadn’t been part of it I would never have believed it. It’s the story of a thirty-year journey through a dark and horrible place.”

Bart began relating Ilona’s tale when their appetizer arrived and finished while their dessert dishes were being cleared. Della sat spellbound and had to be reminded from time to time that her food was getting cold. When Bart finished Della’s eyes glistened with moisture.

“Oh, that poor woman. Her father destroyed her childhood and so much of her adult life. Now she has nothing, no father, no family, nothing. She’s alone, without even any good memories to her name. What’s going to happen to her now?”

“That’s something Bart and I are going to discuss when we get back to my office.”

No one spoke on the ride back to the barracks. When they arrived, Della said good night to Tallman then kissed Bart lightly on the cheek. “You guys make me proud to be a cop.”

“See you in the morning, Della,” Tallman said. ”And remember what Jane said to Tarzan every morning when he left for work.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful, it’s a jungle out there.”

“Sorry I asked, boss. See you tomorrow.”