Indigo Slam

'All right.' He spoke pretty good English.

'Where is Clark Hewitt?' It hung like a chime tone in an empty room. All of this was about Clark.

'I don't know.'

Markov nodded and the steel fingers tightened into my shoulders like pliers. Alexei backhanded me with the Glock and a starburst of pain erupted from my other ear. Some days suck. Some days you shouldn't even get out of bed. I said, 'Who is Clark Hewitt and why is he so important?'

Markov said, 'Tell me where he is, or I will kill you.'

'I don't know.' My ears were ringing. I shook my head to stop the ringing but the shaking made it worse.

Another nod, and this time Alexei hammered back the Glock and pressed it hard into my neck. Dmitri stepped back to get clear of the splatter.

I said, 'I've never seen Clark Hewitt, and I don't know where he is. I don't know anything about him.'

Markov said something to Alexei and Alexei answered in Russian. Markov said, 'Do not lie. You were asking about him. You were at his wife's grave.'

'His name came up in something I'm working on so I came up here to find out about him.'

'What thing?'

'I'm trying to find a drug importer from San Francisco. Before he disappeared he said he was going to buy some dope in Seattle off a connection named Clark Hewitt. I came up here to find out.' Good lying is an art.

Markov stared at me some more, thinking about what I had said, trying to decide whether or not he believed me and how far to take this if he didn't. The Glock hovered like a living thing three inches from my left ear. I thought that I might be able to block it away and drive up into Dmitri, and if I was lucky I might be able to live another ten seconds.

Far away a dog barked. Deep and throaty and coming closer.

I said, 'I don't know Hewitt. I don't know you guys. What in hell is going on here?'

The phone rang, and the man to Markov's right answered it and listened without speaking. He put down the phone and said something and Markov's steady eyes wavered.

Something was happening out in the warehouse. The dog sounded closer now, and men were moving and there were voices. Markov murmured more Russian. The Glock disappeared and Alexei stepped away and the barking came to the door.

A guy in a suit stepped inside, holding out a federal badge, and announced, 'Federal Marshal.' He was a tall guy and the suit fit well. He glanced at me, then came over and jabbed a finger into Dmitri's chest. 'Step back, fatso.'

Dmitri squinted at Markov, and Markov nodded. Dmitri stepped back.

The guy in the suit looked at me. 'You okay?'

'Do I look okay?'

'We'll get you some ice.' He turned back to Markov. 'My name is Special Agent Reed Jasper, United States Federal Marshal. The men behind me are with United States Customs. They have some paperwork they'd like to discuss with you.'

A powerfully built guy wearing an assault suit and a Browning 8mm was outside the door with the dog, and the dog was straining to get into the room. It was a big, muscular mix, maybe shepherd and Akita, and it looked like it wanted to bite. Behind him, other men were moving through the warehouse.

Andrei Markov spread his hands. 'I am always happy to cooperate with the authorities, Special Agent.'

I said, 'My name is Cole. I'm a private investigator from Los Angeles. These men brought me here against my will and assaulted me. I'd like to press charges.'

Jasper put away his badge, then picked up my wallet and lifted me off the chair as the guy with the dog came in. Jasper never again looked at the Russians, but kept all his attention on me, as if I was the reason he had come and the Russians were now someone else's problem. He said, 'You'll live.'

'I said that I want to press charges.'

'Sure.' He led me out of the room.

Maybe a dozen federal agents were moving through the warehouse. There were a couple more dog handlers in assault suits, but most were wearing blue rain shells that said POLICE – U.S. Customs. Jasper led me past them without another word and out into the rain. Maybe Jasper could tell me what was going on. Maybe Jasper could tell me why Clark Hewitt was so important, and why I had been grabbed, and why Andrei Markov had come maybe three seconds from blowing my brains out. I said, 'Man, am I glad to see you guys.'

Jasper said, 'You won't be.'

'What does that mean?'

A guy in a blue shell was waiting beside a nondescript government G-ride. 'Is this the dude?'

Jasper tossed him my wallet. 'Yeah.'

The new guy slipped my wallet into his pocket without looking at it, then went around and climbed in behind the wheel. His blue shell said MARSHAL. I said, 'Would you guys tell me what's going on?' I seemed to be saying it a lot, and no one seemed willing to answer.

Jasper pushed me against his ride, pulled my hands behind my back, and cuffed me. 'You're under arrest, asshole. If you know any good lawyers, you'd better get ready to call 'em.'

Wilson Brownell had been right. I had stepped into something deep, and now I was drowning.

CHAPTER 10

The rain came harder, raging at the G-ride as we made our way southeast across Seattle to the Federal Court Building. Jasper mumbled at the driver a couple of times and the driver mumbled back, but neither of them mumbled to me. The driver's name was Lemming.

First irate Russian thugs, now irate federal cops. Maybe Rod Serling was next.

The rain vanished as we slid beneath the building into the parking garage. We didn't bother with a parking spot; Lemming stopped the car at the elevator where a bald African-American agent was waiting with the elevator locked open. He was wearing a plastic security ID that said SCULLY, WILLIAM P. 'That him?'

'Yeah.'

He stepped into the elevator and unlocked the doors. 'Get his ass upstairs.'

I said, 'If you're Scully, where's Mulder?'

No one answered. Guess they didn't watch the X-Files.

They hustled me up to the sixth floor, then along a general issue federal hall as if I were a presidential candidate with an active death threat against him. We went through a door that said UNITED STATES MARSHALS, and into a department room with maybe half a dozen desks and four more agents gathered at one of the desks, talking. Scully took a bag of blue ice from a little fridge by the coffee machine, uncuffed me, then told me to put the blue ice on my eye. 'Put'm in the cold room.'

I said, 'I think I need medical attention. How about calling nine-one-one?'

'Keep the ice on it.'

They brought me to a small room with a table, four chairs, and no windows. Lemming put me in the far chair and said, 'Sit.'

'How about a lawyer?'

'Sit.'

I sat. Jasper sat at the table across from me, but Scully and Lemming stayed on their feet. Scully whispered something to Lemming, and Lemming left. Jasper said, 'First, I want you to know that we're holding you for questioning. We do not plan to file charges against you at this time, but we reserve the option to do so at a later time.'

'Questioning about what?'

'The murder of a federal officer.'

'Come again?'

Scully said, 'Why are you looking for Clark Hewitt?'

I looked at him. First Markov, now these guys. I looked from Scully to Jasper, then back to Scully. They were staring at me the way a circling hawk eyes a field mouse just before she folds her wings and slips down through the air to feed. I said, 'I'm sorry, I didn't catch that name.'

Scully said, 'Knock off the bullshit. We ask, you answer.'

I grinned at him. 'Is that the way it works, Scully?'

'Yeah. That's the way it works.' My eye was burning and flushed with blood. I put the blue ice on it.

Jasper said, 'Who are you working for?'

'I just went through this with Markov. I didn't like it then either.'