‘Well, it’s a funny thing, but your castle is exactly what I’m here about. What’d you say your name was?’
‘I don’t have to say name. Is unconstitutional.’
‘Nope, you’re wrong there. Any police officer can ask any citizen for identification at any time. If that identification is not produced, that police officer can detain that citizen until such time as it is.’
This was a complete lie, but not one likely to be unmasked. Aslan’s eyes traveled to the ashtray, now minus the joint he’d laid down a few minutes before. Then his eyes jumped to mine, displaying a blind and unreasoning hatred.
‘Also,’ I added, ‘your attitude is really bad here. I just asked for your name. I didn’t ask you to submit to a strip search.’
The clear implication, that a strip search would follow a second refusal, didn’t escape Aslan. I could see the struggle in his eyes. He was going to have to back down and he didn’t like it.
‘Aslan Khalid.’
‘There, was that so hard?’ I glanced down at the second man. ‘And what’s your name, pal?’
‘Konstantine Barsakov.’
‘And what do you do for Domestic Solutions? What’s your job?’
‘I am president,’ Barsakov replied, his English much better than Aslan’s. ‘Now tell us what you want or I will call the lawyer. And remove your ass from my desk.’
‘Okay.’ I rose to my feet, leaving a sweaty stain behind, then spread my hands defensively. ‘See, it’s really just a routine complaint. This building is zoned industrial and you have people living here. That’s the complaint, anyway. That you have people living here and the conditions are unsafe.’
I might have left all this unsaid. My intention, when I came through the door, was to use the building code violation as a pretext to detain Konstantine. That ploy was no longer necessary; the joint in my pocket was pretext enough. Still, I couldn’t resist an urge to needle Aslan, to play to his rage. Turned down at the corners, the man’s small mouth had hardened into the sort of petulant frown I associated with a bratty toddler about to launch a temper tantrum.
When Konstantine failed to reply, I turned to his partner. ‘Do you deny the charges?’ I asked.
Aslan stared at me for a moment, his eyes traveling from my soggy hair, to the t-shirt plastered to my chest, to my frayed jeans. That my mission had nothing to with the building code was obvious and I had to assume he was already thinking of the murdered girl his partner had dumped six weeks before.
‘No more I am playing with you this game,’ Aslan finally declared, reaching for the telephone on his desk. ‘I am calling lawyer.’
‘Here, let me help you.’
I hooked my fingers under the lip of the desk and flipped it over. Aslan tried to get out of the way, but he wasn’t fast enough. The desk caught him in the hips and his chair went flying. Then the monitor of his Dell computer imploded a few feet from his head and he cried out, despite himself. I drew my Glock and put on my game face. These were the foreign gangsters Capra had warned me against. I would treat them accordingly.
‘You,’ I said, leveling the Glock on Konstantine while Aslan struggled out from under the desk, ‘get up against the wall.’
When he continued to stare at me, I drew the gun back, fully prepared to slam it into the side of his head. He apparently got the message, pushing his chair away from the desk, rising slowly, turning and walking off to face the wall. I might have demanded that he raise his hands at that point, but there was only one pocket in his warm-up suit, a back pocket which held his wallet.
‘You, too. Get up against the wall next to your partner.’ I came around the overturned desk to confront Aslan as he rose to his feet, slamming the heel of my left hand into his chest. He staggered backward, but continued to glare at me. Though I was a good five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, Aslan was powerfully built and obviously unafraid. For a moment, I thought I might have to shoot him, but he finally turned when I stepped forward.
‘Put your hands against the wall,’ I told him, ‘and spread your legs. I’m going to search you.’
‘I will tell you story,’ he said as he complied, ‘of boys becoming mens in Chechnya. Are you wishing to hear this story?’
‘I’m interested in anything you have to say, Aslan. That’s because you’re such an interesting guy.’
Aslan ignored the sarcasm. His expression had hardened by then. ‘New Year’s Day this story begins, when Russians attack Grozny to drive out rebels. Airplanes they use, mortars, artilleries, missiles, tanks. In one hour, four thousand rounds, boom, boom, boom, boom. This goes on for three months, every day, always bombs falling, house crashing down, glass broken from windows, everywhere flames, everywhere smoke. At end, Grozny is no more a city. Grozny is ruins like of ancient kingdom.’
I searched Aslan carefully, emptying each pocket, tossing items off to the side. He didn’t flinch, not even when I confiscated his wallet.
‘On first night, mother killed and brother killed. On fifth night, father killed. I run to uncle’s house, but house is no more. Boy has only on self to rely. How does boy do this? Fear first, for boy, too scared to think. Then hunger eats at stomach and boy runs through streets, hiding in shadows from snipers, like rat. This is trick Russians play. First bomb, then burn, then shoot when people come out. If civilian, no matter. If child, no matter. All are same to them.’
I moved over to Konstantine and took his wallet as well. He was paying close attention to Aslan’s tale and I got the distinct impression that he was hearing it for the first time.
‘How survive, huh? For boy? First time boy discovers food, gang of children take it away. Later, boy joins gang, takes food from others. Oldest in gang is fourteen. Youngest is seven. When find wounded Russians, they kill them with knives. No mercy. Kill and take gun. Now grows stronger, this boy. Little more every day. Until no longer is rat. Is wolf.’
At that point, I backed away from the two men, giving myself a little reaction room while I examined Konstantine’s and Aslan’s green cards. Both appeared to be legitimate and both listed Russia as country of origin.
‘Boy can no more be sheep when boy becomes wolf. This is thing about wolfs. Once is wolf always is wolf.’
I can’t say how long Aslan would have rattled on if I hadn’t chosen that moment to kick his feet out from under him. As it was, his head banged into the paneling as he crashed to the floor and he barely got his hands out in time to break his fall.
‘Stay down there, wolfman, while I finish with your partner.’
Finishing with Konstantine meant holstering my weapon while I bent his massive arms behind his back and put handcuffs on his wrists. Konstantine didn’t fight me, but I felt his strength nevertheless. We were of even height, with him much the heavier, though most of it — or so I hoped — was fat.
‘Why you are arresting me?’
‘Marijuana possession.’
Animated for the first time, he looked at me in disbelief. ‘I wasn’t smoking this joint.’
‘Doesn’t matter, Konstantine. You’re the president of the company and you’re responsible.’ I drew my weapon. Aslan was behaving himself, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
‘This is bullshit, this little joint. This is a parking ticket.’
‘Not so. Smoking marijuana in a public place is a misdemeanor. Now, check this out, just so we’re all on the same page. I’m going to walk you through the door and down the street to my car. You’re not going to resist or try to run away. Meanwhile, the wolf of Chechnya will remain inside the building. That’s because if the wolf shows his fangs, he not only goes to the top of the endangered species list, he faces the threat of immediate extinction.’
I gave them a moment to think it over, then took hold of Barsakov’s right arm just above the elbow, squeezing hard enough to let him know how much it would hurt if I clamped down. We had two blocks to walk and I didn’t want him to get ideas. Nevertheless, when we reached the door, I couldn’t resist a final diversion. I turned slightly, so that I could see Aslan out of the corner of my eye. He was holding his palm against the top of his bald and reddened scalp.