Pashkov needed to hide for a bit. Tommy Bracco certainly must’ve called his FBI cousin by now and told him about Nev’s murder and they’d be looking for him. Pashkov’s car would stand out among the newer vehicles on the road, so he rented a white Toyota Camry using some phony ID he’d kept for tight situations. All he needed was a couple of hours before he could make his demands, but first he needed the Perrino girl for leverage. Once Pashkov had secured the girl, then Bracco would fall into line. He’d do anything to keep her safe and that’s when Pashkov could abuse his power. He’d use the gangster’s sense of loyalty against him. Expose his weakness.
Pashkov drove the Camry through the In-N-Out burger place. The name seemed to accommodate his need for a quick exchange. Just as he pulled up to the window, his phone buzzed. Sergei. “Hold on,” he said, then put the phone on the passenger seat while he paid for his meal.
“Yes,” Pashkov said, once he pulled away.
“We got her,” Sergei said.
Pashkov pumped his fist. “Good boy,” he said, sounding like a boss all of a sudden.
“We have a bit of a problem, though. We had to shoot her to stop her from escaping. She was too fast.”
“What? How is she?”
“We shot her in the leg. We were able to stop the bleeding, but she probably needs treatment.”
“Listen to me,” Pashkov said with a clenched jaw. “You keep her subdued and go to a drug store and get some antibiotic cream and bandages and tape. Then you take her to the safe house, understand? She only needs to survive for another five or six hours. Do you think she will make it?”
There was a pause, then Sergei said, “Yes, she will live. There is one other thing, however.”
“What?” Pashkov snapped.
“We have a problem with Malkin.”
“What problem?”
“I spoke with his wife this morning,” Sergei said. “He did not come home last night. He called her to say he was working, but didn’t call from his cell phone. She was suspicious about him, thinking he was with another woman, so she called the number where Malkin called her from.”
“And?”
“It was the Phoenix FBI office.”
Pashkov was smoldering now, his hand clutching the wheel like he was trying to snap it off in his hand. “That stupid idiot.”
“We should call Mr. Z and let him know.”
“Yes,” Pashkov agreed. “I will contact him. But we keep the girl to ourselves. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Sergei said, sounding annoyed that Pashkov had to keep reminding him of their arrangement.
The fact was, Pashkov didn’t have the desire to speak with Zelman anymore. He was leaving for good and was concerned that even the slightest inflection might give up his plans. But he couldn’t afford to have Malkin ruin his escape. Everything seemed to be closing in, and Pashkov needed his exit to be as smooth as possible.
“Forget about the drug store,” Pashkov said, running low on trust. “Keep pressure on the wound and I will take care of the medical supplies and meet you at the safe house in one hour.”
* * *
Nev’s death brought a sense of desperation to the FBI office, and had Nick reaching into his empty pocket for pills he’d already taken. He could sense Zelman getting away from him, getting away from justice. He could see the Chechen gangster smirking at Nick while his team of attorneys protected him in court, the AG incapable of proving that Zelman was the one who ordered the killing of Sal Perrino. He could see the defense team shattering the testimony of Derrick Grimes, the car thief who was willing to do anything to avoid prison time. There were too many holes in their approach. It was all playing out in Nick’s mind as he watched Stevie go over his instructions to Malkin.
The FBI tech handed a flash drive to Malkin and gave him simple instructions. “Place it into his laptop,” Stevie said. “Then walk away and let him access the computer without you watching him. It’s a keystroke logger. It’ll capture his password for us. Once you show him the incriminating pictures on his computer, you retrieve the flash drive and bring it back here as soon as possible. We have a very small window before Mancini gets there for the transfer. I’ll need that flash drive to access his system. Understand?”
“Sure,” Malkin said. “Can I see the photo first, so I don’t look like an idiot if it seems Photoshopped?”
Stevie looked surprised at the request. “You serious?”
Malkin half-shrugged.
Stevie went behind the desk and clicked a couple of buttons before a crystal clear picture of Nick and Pashkov shaking hands came alive on the giant monitor.
Malkin almost gasped. “Amazing.”
“So glad you approve,” Stevie said.
Lloyd Thiel motioned Nick and Matt to the corner of his office, while Stevie finished the instructions for Malkin’s meeting with Zelman. Thiel was shorter than both men, especially Matt, who loomed over the guy with a perpetual scowl as the SAC seemed ready to browbeat the two agents.
“I see what’s going on,” Thiel said, pointing out the window where Nick met with Mancini. “This can’t be some vigilante bullshit. Not in my office.”
Nick listened, letting the guy vent.
“And if I suspect the law is being broken by FBI agents, I can’t stay quiet. I won’t stay quiet. Do you understand?”
Nick said nothing, offering the guy some respect. He looked up at the clock over Thiel’s shoulder, then turned to Malkin and said, “Get going. You can’t be late.”
Thiel wasn’t done and Nick allowed the guy to continue his rant while the door shut behind him. Nick realized his career, and possibly his life, depended on his ability to work within the shadows of the law, but he couldn’t accomplish anything without Thiel’s blessing.
Matt was about to give Thiel his opinion, but Nick caught his eye and quelled his partner’s response.
“Okay,” Nick said. “I agree with everything you just said.”
Thiel stood there waiting for the ‘but’ that never came.
Nick shrugged. “Lloyd, we’ve worked together a long time and I see where you might interpret my actions as personal. But don’t. We’ve used informants a lot in the past to help our cause. Try to look at these characters as CIs. Nothing more. I’ll be using them as tools in my toolbelt.”
Lloyd gave Nick a dubious look.
Nick was on an island now and really couldn’t accomplish anything without support. To give the SAC what he really wanted, Nick added, “I promise I won’t do a single thing without your consent.”
Thiel stood there with a clouded expression, then held out his hand for Nick to shake.
Nick shook his hand, wondering how he was ever going to pay for all the bogus checks he was writing.