“Good.”
“You met the undercover Miami-Dade cops, right?” Dean asked.
“I did. We’ve talked.”
“Good. The powers that be are stressing communication. They don’t want any of you ending up in the swamp.”
“Good to hear. I don’t think I’d fit into an oil drum. Don’t worry, we’ve got each other’s backs.”
“Have you been asked to move any money for the organization yet?”
“On my way in to the gallery now,” Jacob said. “I expect I’ll see someone soon enough.”
“It may take some time, with that murder at the club last night, you know.”
“A murder that I think they planned. I’d bet they’ll contact me today.”
“You’re on. Keep up with MDPD, all right? Word from the top. Both the cops and our agency are accustomed to undercover operations, but this one is more than dicey.”
“At least I get to bathe for this one,” Jacob told him.
“There’s a bright spot to everything, huh?”
“You bet.”
He ended the call, slid the phone back in his pocket and headed toward the gallery.
The sun was shining overhead. People were out on the beach, playing, soaking up the heat. The shadow of last night’s murder couldn’t ruin a vacation for the visitors who had planned for an entire year.
Besides, it was a shady rich man, a mobster, who had been killed.
He who lives by the sword...
Jacob turned the corner. Ivan Petrov was standing in front of the gallery, studying a piece of modern art.
* * *
MOE, CURLY AND LARRY—or, rather Alejandro Suarez, Antonio Garibaldi and Sasha Antonovich—were upstairs when Jasmine arrived with Jorge at precisely 10:00 a.m. the next day.
Alejandro was at the top of the stairs. Sasha was at the door to what had once been Josef Smirnoff’s office and was now the throne room for Victor Kozak.
Jasmine had made a point of greeting both Alejandro and Sasha. She presumed that Antonio was in the room with Victor, which he was. She saw him when the door to that inner sanctum opened and Natasha Volkov walked out.
The door immediately shut behind her, but not before Jasmine could see that Victor Kozak was seated at what had been Josef Smirnoff’s desk.
The king is dead; long live the king, she thought.
This had shades of all kinds of Shakespearean tragedy on it. Apparently, Josef Smirnoff had known that someone had been planning to kill him—he just hadn’t known who. Maybe he had suspected Kozak but not known. And he probably hadn’t imagined that he’d be gunned down at the celebrity opening for the club.
She knew that Smirnoff hadn’t exactly been a good man. She had heard, though, that he wasn’t on the truly evil side of bad. He’d preferred strong-arm tactics to murder. He’d rather have his debts paid, and how did a dead man pay a debt?
Jasmine couldn’t defend Smirnoff. However, she believed that Kozak was purely evil. It made her skin crawl to be near him. She had a feeling he’d kill his own mother if he saw it as a good career move.
“Ah, you are here! Such a good girl,” Natasha said, slipping an arm around Jasmine’s shoulder and moving her down the hallway. She turned back to Jorge. “You come, too, pretty boy. You are a good boy, too.”
Jorge smiled.
Natasha opened the door into a giant closet–dressing room combo. There were racks of clothing and rows of tables with mirrors surrounded by bright lights for the girls to use. Before the show the day before, the room had been filled with dressers, stylists and makeup artists.
“So sad. Poor Josef,” Natasha said, admitting them through the door and then closing it. She made a display of bringing her fingers to her eyes, as if she’d been crying. Her face was not, however, tearstained.
“We are all in shock, in mourning today,” Natasha added. “So, let me pay you for last night and we will talk for a minute, yes? Maybe you can help.”
“Definitely,” Jasmine said. “Talking would be good. Mr. Smirnoff was so kind to all of us. It’s so horrible what happened.”
“Terrible,” Jorge agreed.
“So.” Natasha grabbed a large manila envelope off one of the dressers and took out a sizable wad of cash. She counted off the amount for each of their fees. When Natasha casually handed it over, Jasmine saw it was all in large bills. It seemed like a lot of cash to have lying around.
Natasha indicated a grouping of leather love seats and chairs where models and performers waited once their makeup was complete.
Jorge and Jasmine took chairs.
“You—you were very brave,” she said, looking at Jasmine. “I was behind the curtain, but I saw the way you protected Kari and tried to help poor Josef.”
“Oh, no, not so brave,” Jasmine said. “When I was a child... I was with my parents in the Middle East, and my father taught me to get down, and get everyone around me down, anytime I heard gunshots. It was just instinct.”
“I tried to get to Jasmine,” Jorge said, “because she’s my friend.”
“Of course, of course,” Natasha said. “But you two and Kari were the ones who were out on the runway when it all happened. What did you see? Of course, I know that the police talked to everyone last night, but...we’re so upset about Josef! Perhaps you’ve remembered something...something that you might have seen?”
Jasmine shook her head. “Oh, Natasha. This is terrible, but I was only thinking about saving myself at first. I didn’t see anything at all.” Jasmine wished that she wasn’t lying. She could easily be passionate because her words were true. She wished to hell that she had seen something—anything.
She had just heard the bullets flying. And seen Josef Smirnoff go down.
“I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “Of course, I suppose this means that... Well, if you need anything from me in the future, I’d be so happy to work with you again.”
Natasha smiled. “Jasmine, you must not worry. We will always have a need for you. We are a loyal family here! And, Jorge, of course, you, too.”
“Thank you,” Jorge said earnestly.
“But nothing—nothing at all?” Natasha persisted. “Tell me about your night, from the time you stepped out on the runway.”
“It was so wonderful!” Jasmine said. “At first, I could hear the crowd. We were having a great time on the runway, and I heard people laughing and having fun...and then, that sound! I didn’t realize at first that I was hearing bullets. And then...then it was as if I knew instantly. My past, maybe,” she whispered. “And I went for Kari, and when I saw Josef down on the floor, I wanted to help... He’d been good to me, you know? Then that man—a friend of Josef’s, I think—thought that I was trying to hurt Josef, and he...he tackled me.”
“And you were angry, of course,” Natasha murmured.
“Well, at first, of course, but it was okay after. He apologized to me. He told me he thought that I wanted to hurt Josef. He was very sincere. So apologetic.”
“He saw to it that we got back to Jasmine’s place safely. I liked him,” Jorge said.
“And you, Jasmine? Did you like him?” Natasha asked.
“After we talked, of course. He was very apologetic. He told me that he’s