‘This is not faking,’ Aslan said. ‘I am genuine immigrant with right to work in United States of America.’
‘I already know that, Aslan. I’ve spoken to the Immigration and Naturalization Service about your case.’ I smiled at him, a smile, or so I hoped, of utmost confidence. ‘See, what I remembered, from the last time, is that your country of origin is Russia. Meanwhile, you told me you were a Chechen. That’s what I’m trying to make sense of. Why doesn’t it say Chechnya?’
I looked into Aslan’s eyes, my gaze studiously mild. Though Aslan’s features had remained almost immobile, his eyes blazed with hate. I folded my arms across my chest, maintaining eye contact as I waited for him to respond.
‘Chechnya is province of Russia,’ he finally said. ‘Chechnya is not yet country.’
‘But it should be, right? Considering how long the Chechen people have been fighting for their independence?’
‘One day.’
I turned on the stool to face Nicolai Urnov. ‘How about you, Nicky? Are you a Chechen?’
‘I’m an American,’ Urnov said. ‘I was born here.’
‘What about your parents? Where did they come from?’
‘From Russia.’
I shook my head in disbelief. ‘See, this is what’s so confusing. There’s Konstantine Barsakov and Nicky Urnov, both Russian, and there’s Aslan Khalid, the lion of Chechnya.’ I snapped my fingers as I turned back to Aslan. ‘Oh, I get it. Killing Barsakov was Aslan’s way of fighting for the Chechen cause. A little victory for the homeland. One less Russkie to worry about.’
‘What is point of this?’ Aslan demanded.
‘The point of this, Aslan Khalid, is that your buddy has asked for a lawyer twice, but you haven’t even asked once. Evidence of a guilty mind, Aslan. That’s what they call it in a court of law.’
‘If I say to go, you will go? If I say I want lawyer, you will hand me telephone? This I don’t think so.’
I got up, walked over to the ping-pong table, picked up a ball and bounced it. ‘When was the last time you saw Konstantine Barsakov?’ I asked.
‘When you place him under arrest for crime of marijuana.’
‘Not after he was released?’
‘Released? What is this? How am I knowing you have not killed him in your jail?’
‘Are you telling me that you didn’t see him after he returned to the warehouse on Eagle Street?’
‘I am telling you to stick tin badge up ass.’
I continued to bounce the ball. ‘Relax, I only have a few more questions. I’ll be gone before you know it.’ When he responded with a grunt and a sneer, I asked, ‘Where do you work these days? Now that you no longer work on Eagle Street?’
‘I have never work on Eagle Street.’
‘Fine, so where do you work?’
‘You are big-shot detective. Find out for own self.’
This was one question I would have liked answered, but that wasn’t going to happen, not on this pass, and I decided not to push him. Domestic Solutions’ workers were at their jobs when I arrested Barsakov. Aslan couldn’t be certain that I knew about them. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.
‘Okay, so you don’t want to tell me where you work. Let’s try something else. You told me the last time you saw Konstantine alive was when I arrested him. Now I want to know when you saw him for the first time. Were you still living in your home country?’
Aslan straightened in his chair, his senses on full alert. ‘What do you know about this?’
‘I know that Aslan Khalid is not your real name. I know that you took your name from Aslan Maskhadov, a hero of the struggle against the Russians. I know that Aslan means lion in Farsi and Turkish. I know that in your dreams, you imagine that you, yourself, have the heart of a lion.’ I walked back to the stool, sat down and leaned over the desk. ‘Tell me how you came to the United States, Aslan. Tell me the truth and I’ll walk right through that door. I promise, Aslan. I’ll walk out of here.’
‘How has this to do with Barsakov?’
‘I thought maybe he helped put you on top of the quota list.’
‘You are fool, Mr Cop. In Chechnya, only you have self to help self. This is lesson of Grozny.’
‘Okay,’ I said, raising my hands defensively, ‘Barsakov didn’t help you. But you have to admit, it’s a long way from the mountains of Chechnya to the canyons of New York. All I’m asking you to do is describe the journey.’
The tension dropped away from Aslan’s expression, his brow softening as his jaw relaxed. He glanced down at his knees, then raised his eyes to meet mine. The body language could not have been more obvious. I was going to hear a tale Aslan had told many times before.
‘In Moscow, for right money, can buy whole country. What is exit visa? What is putting name on list? These are nothing.’
‘And here?’
‘Here?’
‘You just said you bribed your way out of Russia. I’m now asking if you bribed your way into the United States?’ I looked over at Nicky Urnov to find his dark eyes fixed on Aslan.
‘Why do you ask this question?’ Aslan said. ‘You are miserable New York cop. Immigration is not for you to be concerning yourself.’
‘Aslan, please, let’s not change the subject. You couldn’t have gotten that green card without being scrutinized by the CIA, the FBI, and a dozen national security agencies.’ I spread my arms wide. ‘I mean, you come from Chechnya, for God’s sake, a country that’s on every terrorist watch list in the entire world.’
Aslan might have taken that moment to claim that he had, indeed, bribed American immigration officials, or that he’d come to the United States before 9/11, when legal immigrants, even from Chechnya, received far less scrutiny. But Aslan was having too much trouble controlling his emotions. He wanted to come off that chair, to vault the desk, to explode in my face.
‘Like I already said,’ I continued, moving a little closer, ‘I spoke to a case officer at immigration about your status. According to her, you got out of Russia and into the United States by.?.?.’ I glanced at Urnov. ‘What do you think, Nicky? What am I gonna say next? I’ll give you a hint. The animal I’m thinking of has four legs, a long ugly tail, and a skinny face with sharp little teeth.’
Without waiting for an answer, I swung back to face Aslan. ‘Not only did you rat on your own people, you took the name of a true warrior to cover up the truth. Tell your partner, just so he understands, how many died because of you. How many freedom fighters were blown to pieces because the Russians knew where they were hiding? How many villages were burned because you told the Russians that the villagers harbored rebels? How many bodies were dumped in mass graves so you could pursue your American dream?’
By the time I finished, Aslan’s eyes were ricocheting from side to side. I’d seen that effect on many a common criminal. The adrenalin pouring into Aslan’s blood-stream was demanding that he do something to relieve the tension, but his mind was rejecting every possibility. One of those possibilities became clear to me when he balled up his fists.
‘You pissed off, Aslan? You wanna do something about it?’ I approached to within a step of where he sat. ‘Why don’t you do it? C’mon, take a chance. You’re the lion of Chechnya, right? You’re a true son of the wolf people. Ask yourself, what would Kazi Mullah do? Jokhar Dudayev? Imam Shamil? Shamil Basayev? Would they allow an ordinary cop to label them cowards and rats? Or would they fight to maintain their honor?’
As I reeled off the names of these Chechen heroes, Aslan rewarded me with long slow moan. I’d stripped him of even the pretense of dignity. But he didn’t fight me, not when I took him by the shoulder and pulled him to his feet, not when I searched him, then cuffed his wrists.
Finally, I turned to Urnov as Hansen led Aslan out the door; the message I wanted to send was simple, though I felt that it needed driving home.
‘You figured this out yet, Nicky? You gettin’ this? Well, just in case, let me spell it out for you. If you do business with Aslan Khalid, if you help him in any way, I’m gonna make you a personal project.’ I took one of the card readers from the shelf, dropped it to the floor and crushed it with my heel. Then I slapped him in the face, just so there’d be no misunderstanding.