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“Yuri Brogdon,” I said into a radio hooked to a loudspeaker on top of a marked patrol car. “This is Marshal Aislinn Cain with the Serial Crimes Tracking Unit. Come out with your hands over your head.” Marshals Holmes and Murphy were still with me. Ivan Daniels pulled up next to the police barrier that was being set up outside the restaurant that doubled as Brogdon’s headquarters. Despite it being afternoon, the restaurant was closed. I had looked for my mom’s car when I pulled in but didn’t see it. I wasn’t sure if this made me feel better or not, but I had a feeling it was a bad omen. I was not getting a response from within the restaurant; nor was my mom answering her cell phone.
“What do we know?” Ivan asked.
“A witness reported an elderly woman entering the building, then the blinds were drawn and the closed sign turned,” a uniformed officer told him.
“I’ve called the restaurant and my mom. No answer either place. I showed the witness a picture of my mom and she identified her as the elderly woman that went in there. But her car isn’t nearby and she isn’t answering her phone. I’m going to give it until the SCTU armored vehicle arrives with my gear and then I’m going in,” I told him. “I should have an escort because if he has hurt my mom, I’ll kill him.”
“I imagine Gabriel and the rest will go in with you,” Ivan said.
“You’ll do!” I told him, and then grabbed a Kevlar vest out of the SUV and handed it to him. It was one of Lucas’s extras, so it should fit Ivan. The SCTU had been outfitted with body cameras way earlier than most police officers. I was wearing mine along with a vest. I switched it on.
“Whoa, whoa, we should wait for a tactical team!” Ivan told me, grabbing my arm.
“If it was your mom, would you wait for a tactical team?”
“Damn,” Ivan said, and started pulling on the vest.
I headed to the door, leaving Ivan to catch up. When I reached it, I found it was locked, which made me more irritable. The front door was wooden and decorative. It couldn’t be kicked in, because the hinges swung the door out, not in. Ivan stood next to me at the door for a moment. He tried the knob and then waved to someone.
“Does your team have a battering ram?” he asked.
“Yes, but they are at least ten minutes out.” Ivan frowned at me. I pulled out my baton and handed it to him. “Break the window next to the door,” I told him. Ivan swung the baton and it connected with a loud, sharp crack against the glass. The window exploded inward. I had actually expected it to be Lexan and not break, which is why I had handed the baton to Ivan. This was much better. Ivan cleared away some of the broken glass and I heard my mother call my name from inside the building. When the window was clear enough, Ivan reached in to unlock the door. I pushed past him and climbed in through the broken window.
My mom was crawling across the floor leaving a bloody trail behind her.
“Mom!” I rushed to her. “Get an ambulance!” I shouted to anyone that might hear me.
“Brogdon attacked me,” my mom said.
“Shush,” I told her. “Let’s just worry about getting you to the hospital right now.” The front door opened and people rushed inside with guns drawn. I hadn’t even thought of clearing the room when I heard my mom’s voice. I was lucky I wasn’t shot, I thought as I knelt next to my mom.
“We’ve got one dead and one wounded back here,” a male voice called. I looked at my mom. No doubt Brogdon had some sort of security camera system in the place. I wondered if it would support my mom’s claims that Brogdon had attacked her. After a moment or two, I decided it probably wouldn’t and we’d burn that bridge when we got there.
Two paramedics rolled in a stretcher. Ivan and I helped move my mom to it. She was bleeding from the knee, as well as her hand and a cut on her face.
“Take her, go,” Ivan told the paramedics.
“They shot her,” I said to Ivan.
“Yes, they did. She will probably need a knee replacement.”
“Who the fuck shoots an old lady?” I stared at him.
“Yeah, because your elderly mother isn’t at all dangerous.” Ivan tried not to grin. “I’d tell you to go with her, but as an SCTU member, you’ll need to give a statement to my captain, not to mention answering to your own superiors.”
“What if there’s video?” I whispered to Ivan.
“Of what?” Ivan asked also in a whisper. “A white-haired little old lady threatening a mob boss and the mob boss having his goons shoot her or beat her up?”
“No, of my mom shooting first,” I said, barely audibly.
“I don’t think it went down that way,” Ivan said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because your mom knows that Brogdon, as well as the task force, has cameras in here and because she was wearing one of Alex’s sneaky cameras.”
“Detective, Marshal?” A man called out from the back room. We followed the blood trail my mom had left to his location. Yuri Brogdon was on the floor; blood ran from a bullet wound between his eyes. There was no stippling or powder burns that would indicate a close and personal shooting like I had expected. The second guy in the room was coughing up blood, and blood bubbles appeared from a spot in the middle of his chest.
I had no feelings beyond repulsion for Yuri Brogdon or the goon who was slumped against a wall. It wasn’t just that they were Ukrainian mobsters—it was that they were terrible people. They had specifically gone after the grandchildren of the Dedka Leon by everyone who knew him. Dedka meant grandfather in Russian, and Melina Zeitzev had gotten her toughness and unflappability from her parents, one of whom was Leon Zeitzev. Leon had been an underground Orthodox priest in the Soviet Union, where religion had been outlawed, as well as fighting corruption in the KGB and furthering his daughter’s career to get her into a position where she could spy for the Americans. He was a tough SOB and once in the US, he had done what he could to disrupt the workings of both the Russian Mob and Ukrainian Mob in the US. Yuri Brogdon had gone after Dedka Leon personally and failed more than once. This led him to realize he needed a way in, and he eventually found a weak link in Dedka Leon’s son-in-law Tom Marsden, who had married one of Nadine’s cousins, Valentina. Tom liked to gamble and when he ran out of his own money to do it, Yuri Brogsdon had offered a loan. When Marsden couldn’t pay it back, he offered his daughters as sex slaves to the Ukrainian mob, and Yuri Brogsdon had agreed.
“My own gun,” the man gasped out after a few moments.
“Get him to the hospital,” I said. There was a lot of blood in the room, and at the moment, I had no idea what had gone on in there.
“Well, this is interesting. We didn’t know this room existed,” a new man said, as he entered the room.
“Captain Phillip Jones, this is US Marshal Aislinn Cain with the SCTU. Her mother has been taken to the hospital and is involved in this somehow,” Ivan said to him.
“We saw the female victim storm into the restaurant shouting at Brogdon and Karl Ponomerenko about trafficking in children. Customers jumped up and started leaving, and Brogdon indicated to Karl to drop the blinds. Then he hit the old woman with a pistol. She fell and Karl stepped on her hand, after which they disappeared down the hallway. Now we know where they went. How she managed to get the better of them once they were in here is a bit of a mystery, though,” Captain Jones said.
“No, it isn’t,” a familiar voice said. We all turned to see Harry Burns in the doorway. “Myrna Clachan isn’t just an elderly lady; she was once CIA and while her title was analyst, she didn’t sit behind a desk and just look at data. I am far more interested in why she suddenly decided to confront the Ukrainian Mob about their human trafficking activities.”
“Tom Marsden,” Ivan said. “Our cousin, Valentina, refused to testify against Brogdon, but Tom Marsden, her ex-husband, owes the mob a lot of money. To settle part of the debt, he told Brogdon he could have both of their daughters. Daniels’ Security has been providing protection for them.”
“Ah,” Harry said. “With Nadine and Zeke being around Myrna, she somehow found out about it. She came to threaten Brogdon to stay away and things happened.”
“Essentially,” I said.
“So that is how you two got here so quickly, you were tipped off,” Harry replied.
“After my mom left my house, Nadine called me. Then she was supposed to call the task force and Ivan,” I said.
“And her own mother, because it was Melina that called me,” Harry said. “No doubt Nadine was worried Melina had gone with her.”
“Probably,” I agreed. “However, if my mom had a plan, I don’t know what it was. I can only guess.”
“Oh, I can guess and I’d say it went wrong and then came back right again,” Harry said, and gave me a wink. My interactions with the Midwest Regional Director of Homeland Security made me pretty sure he had once been CIA, and had worked with both my mother and Nadine’s at different times.
“At the moment, you know I’m going to have to arrest your mother, right?” Captain Jones said to me.
“Really?” Harry said. “An elderly woman comes to scare off a mobster from trafficking children, gets attacked, kills her attackers, much to everyone’s surprise, and you think it’s murder?”
“You weren’t surprised,” Captain Jones countered.
“No, because I know Myrna Clachan. She’s old, sure, but she’s still capable of doing what is necessary to survive. I really would like to accompany you to the DA’s office when you present it for prosecution.”
“Why?” Captain Jones asked suspiciously.
“I’ve never seen this DA laugh; I want to see if this does it.”
“Why would the DA laugh?” Captain Jones asks.
“Octogenarian murders Ukrainian Mob boss and henchman,” Harry said. “It is a great headline. I want to see how you keep it from sounding like self-defense.”
“My mom was wearing one of Alex Zeitzev’s spy cameras. I know some of them broadcast wirelessly. It was small enough I didn’t notice it, but Ivan did. So I suspect Alex has video of everything that happened,” I told them.
“Ace,” Ivan said softly.
“No, he’s right. It is obvious my mom didn’t walk in here and execute Yuri Brogdon. So, how on earth can it be murder instead of self-defense?” I shrugged. “Besides, my mom is a grownup and not a psychopath. Now, I need to go to her,” I told everyone and walked out.
The SCTU tactical vehicle was pulling up as I exited the restaurant.
“Want to take me to the hospital?” I asked Gabriel, who was driving.
“Climb in,” he said. “We heard over the radio they were taking an older female to Truman Medical Center with a GSW.”
“I think they shot my mom in the knee,” I said. “Unless she shot herself.”
“She isn’t a psychopath,” Lucas said.
“That is my one consolation, well that and she was wearing a camera,” I said and texted Alex. A few minutes later the email notification went off on my phone, along with everyone else’s in the vehicle. A moment later I got a text from Nadine telling me they were on their way to the hospital and asking which one to head to. I told her and put my phone away. I’d watch the video from Mom’s camera later.