The Phoenix FBI Field Office had white marble flooring with the Department of Justice emblem in the center of the lobby. White was the prevalent color throughout the building, making everything seem pure compared to the criminals they pursued. The majority of suspects held captive there seemed to stand out among the white walls and blue suits. However, Khasi Zelman was the exception to the rule. When he was placed in confinement inside the Phoenix branch, he wore a $50,000 wool suit made from a rare sheep found in the Netherlands. It was hand-stitched and took over two hundred hours of labor to produce.
Inside the interrogation room, Zelman sat on a padded bench against the wall with his legs crossed, his right foot making small circles of impatience.
Nick and Matt watched the man through a two-way mirror in the adjacent room along with Special Agent Manny Russell.
“How long can we keep him?” Nick asked Russell.
“Twenty-four hours. Max.”
Nick rubbed his neck trying to figure out the best approach.
Russell handed him a blue folder. “You uncover something better than this, you let me know.”
Nick said to Matt, “When I turn my back to him, look for any tells.”
Matt nodded.
Nick entered the room. The door was so tightly secured, it made a swooshing sound as he swung it open and then shut it. Like a space capsule. In the middle of the room was a plain white table with a round recording device.
Nick pressed a button on the device and said, “Mr. Zelman, I’m recording this conversation.”
Zelman didn’t respond.
“Mr. Zelman,” Nick said, “would you mind sitting down at the table with me?”
“Fuck you.”
Nick understood. When a prisoner was in captivity they had very few freedoms, so it was common for them to exercise the slightest opportunity they had to show their defiance.
Nick dropped the blue folder on the table and paced. “We know you gave the order to kill the Perrino family.”
Zelman turned his head away, as if he were too busy to be bothered.
“You might be surprised to know that the gentleman who tried to fire a rocket launcher at Sal Perrino’s gravesite ceremony was an employee of yours.”
“My attorney is on his way.”
“Mr. Zelman, I deal primarily with terrorists, so when I put a case together for the DA, I make sure I have more than enough evidence to put the criminal away for a long time. Usually the rest of their lives.”
Zelman turned to Nick with a sinister grin. “I know who you are.”
“Good.”
“You’re the one who’s cousin is banging that Perrino broad.”
“That’s who I am, huh? Well, that’s not what—”
“Also, you and that cowboy partner of yours put away that Kemel Kharrazi guy a few years back.”
“Ah,” Nick said, “news reaches the top floor of your complex.”
“It’s called opposition research,” Zelman said, his expression becoming engaged now, almost playful. “I have a team of technical brats who spend their day gathering data for my consumption. It’s good to know your enemy.”
“Is that who I am? Your enemy?”
“If you’re harassing my employees, sure.”
“Like Malkin?”
Zelman’s face soured. “He’ll be back home soon.”
“That’s because I went easy on him.”
“So you say.”
Nick pointed to the blue folder. “I have some interesting photos you might like to see.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Surveillance photos of a car registered to Entertainment Resources driving next to Sal Perrino’s gravesite this morning. One of your employees jumped out with a rocket launcher and attempted to fire at the crowd of mourners.”
Zelman shrugged. “I can’t help what my staff does once they’re outside my building. He robs a bank. Is that my responsibility?”
“If you ordered him to rob the bank it is.”
Zelman grinned. “Well, he isn’t exactly available for comment now, is he?”
“No, my partner took care of that problem for you.”
Zelman’s face turned sour again.
“But the driver is still available. You think he’ll stay quiet for you?”
Zelman frowned. “Really?” He stood up and played with his gold cufflinks. “I know what you are doing.”
“What’s that?”
“You have me handcuffed and dragged out of my office in front of my employees, trying to send a message. But that will backfire once I’m back there in few hours, letting them know how I got over on you. I have more control than you think.”
Nick turned his back to him. “Maybe.” He was groping for a soft spot. “I hope you don’t mind if I test that theory.”
“Be my guest.”
“Would it surprise you to know we’ve had reports of retailers being bullied into using your credit cards?”
No response.
Nick turned back to face him. “We have testimony from two separate managers who will claim they were threatened by employees of Entertainment Resources.”
“Yeah? Are you sure they will testify?”
The guy had it just right. The witnesses came forward only on the condition of anonymity. And Zelman knew his soldier’s threats were so vile, neither would ever testify in a court of law.
Nick pulled a plastic chair away from the table and sat down, letting Zelman know this wasn’t over so quickly.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Nick said.
Zelman offered a condescending sneer.
“When I get my teeth into a criminal, I don’t let go.”
Zelman smiled. “Maybe I need a rabies shot?”
Nick clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “You think you have all this wealth tied up in cryptocurrency and that it’s untraceable, but it’s not. We can find the treasure chest.”
“Good luck with that.”
Zelman had a right to be cocky about his financial fortune, he was a wizard with digital maneuvering. Even Stevie had declared him a genius.
“You’ll be doing yourself a favor if you come clean right now. I can give you a similar deal I gave Malkin. He doesn’t leave custody without my blessing. You want to hear my offer?”
“I can’t stop you from talking.”
“Five years for tax evasion,” Nick said. “You shut the operation down and get out in two years along with your hidden wealth. No manslaughter, no conspiracy to commit murder, nothing. Just tax evasion. It’s a good deal, Khasi. I would recommend it.”
Zelman couldn’t hide the pleasure from his face. “You are truly worried, aren’t you, Agent Bracco?”
“I don’t want any more bloodshed. You and the Perrinos need to reach a compromise.”
“I wish I knew why you’re so obsessed with the Perrinos?” Zelman looked directly at the two-way mirror. “Maybe it is because you are Sicilian?”
Nick kept his composure, but inside he was thinking of Sal’s family all gathered at the Perrino household, full of pain and sorrow. And this man was responsible.
“You think you’re going to get away with this because you’ve gotten away with it so far. But you’ve never had to deal with me before.”
Zelman laughed. “You are like a dog humping someone’s leg. You think you are having a shared experience, but really it is just a form of masturbation.”
There was a knock on the door. Matt stuck his head inside and gestured for Nick come out.
Once Nick closed the door behind him, he said, “Well?”
“I don’t like it,” Matt said. “He was suppressing a grin, like he knew something that you didn’t.”
“I’m sure he knows a lot I don’t.”
“No, that’s not it. Something’s wrong. He’s hiding something.”
Nick looked through the mirror at the guy casually sitting on the bench as if waiting for a yacht to pull up and take him to his private island. “He does seem comfortable, doesn’t he?”
“Too comfortable.”
“Should I rattle his cage? Make his blood pressure raise a notch?”
“No,” Matt said. “That’s what he’s expecting. We’re in a tug-of-war right now and he’s got more bodies than we can see.”
“Okay?”
“So we let go of the rope and watch him fall down.”
Nick thought about it. “That’s a bad analogy.”
“Why?”
“Because then his side wins. That’s how tug-of-war works.”
Matt shook his head and looked disgusted. “All right, Mr. Precision, whatever you call it, just do the unexpected. He’s smug, you act smugger.”
The hallway door opened halfway and Russell said, “His attorney’s here. What do you want me to say?”
Nick looked at the arrogant Chechen picking lint off his suit. “Tell him he’s free to go.”
Russell stood there, waiting for more. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “That’s it.”
Russell closed the door.
Nick turned to his partner and said, “Maybe we’ve got someone on our side of the rope he can’t see either.”
Nick pull out his phone and pushed a button. When Tommy answered, he said, “You’re up.”