"She started it."
He shook his head and led me back into the bar.
At the jail, Jack didn't even bother with a cover story--just gave the guard his fake name and ID and said we wanted to speak to Nicky Volkv. Volkv agreed to see us. I guess after years in jail, he was just happy for a visitor.
From the moment we entered the jail, Jack became someone else, sliding into his aging-biker character as he hadn't bothered to until now. His head went higher, shoulders squared, stride taking on a hint of a swagger.
We sat on the visitors' side of the Plexiglas barrier for five silent minutes before the door opened and the guard ushered in a tall man with graying dark hair and a milky-white left eye. Volkv squinted his good eye at Jack.
"I know you?" he asked.
"You should."
The briefest hesitation, then Volkv sat down. He folded his hands on the counter, gaze darting from Jack to me. It lingered on me, hungry.
"Leon Kozlov," Jack said.
Volkv reluctantly pulled his gaze from me. "You know Leon? How is the old son of a bitch?"
We'd expected Volkv to know about Kozlov's death. Even in jail, he shouldn't be that cut off, but from his open smile as we mentioned his friend, he was obviously serious.
"He's dead," Jack said.
Volkv blinked, then leaned forward, resting his mouth against his open hand. It took a moment before he looked up again.
"How'd it happen?"
"Hit."
I expected Volkv to laugh, or at least ask Jack to repeat himself. Someone paying to off an old thug who'd been out of the business for twenty years? Waste of ammo.
But Volkv just gave a long slow shake of his head. "Dumb fuck. I warned him. Last time he was here, he sat right there--same chair you're in, as a matter of fact, and I said, 'Leon, you dumb fuck, that ain't a retirement package, it's a death sentence.' You don't screw with those guys, you know what I mean?"
Jack nodded.
Volkv leaned forward. "Now you and I, maybe we ain't picked the kind of careers our mamas would want, but those guys? A whole other league. Not even part of the human race, if you ask me. Fucking psychos, every last one of them. You don't blackmail a psycho."
"Not unless you want to end up six feet under." As Jack switched to full sentences, I noticed the brogue had been replaced by a faint drawl, like a southerner who's worked hard to lose his accent.
Volkv jabbed a finger at the Plexiglas, earning himself a glare from the guard. He lowered his voice. "That's exactly what I told Leon. You don't fuck with a hitman." Grief flickered behind his eyes again. "Did he get a good funeral?"
"A big one. Standing room only."
"Really? So those Nikolaev bastards came around to show their respects, did they? I always told Leon he was smart not to tell them what happened. If they knew, they'd have bumped him off themselves, just to be safe. No loyalty, those fucks. I got this on the job"--he pointed at his blind eye--"they wouldn't even pay my doctor's bill. Fired my ass 'cause I couldn't see right no more."
By now I could almost hear my toe tapping with impatience. It was like seeing the carousel brass ring zipping by, as you try to reach a little farther, knowing that any moment, the music could stop and you'd lose your chance. Jack just sat there, hands never leaving the reins, as if, by being patient enough, the ring would come to him.
For the next ten minutes, he chatted with Volkv, letting the old con take the conversation where he liked, around and around, never veering any closer to the prize. I held my tongue only by clamping my mouth shut so hard my jaw ached.
"Russians ain't so bad," Jack said, relaxed in his chair, one arm hooked over the back. "I had to pick, I'd go with them over the Yakuza any day. Look at those bastards wrong, and it's permanent retirement time." He stretched his legs. "Speaking of retirement, I don't suppose Leon's retirement plan is up for sale."
Volkv laughed. "So that's what you're after? You got balls, buddy. My advice would be the same I gave to old Leon: b
uy yourself a lottery ticket instead. Odds of cashing in are a hundred times better." He leaned forward. "You want the truth? Plan's not mine to sell. I never asked Leon for the details--my life might not be worth much, but it's all I got. All I know is that he saw something he shouldn't have. Someone."
Jack let Volkv ease back into small talk. Five minutes later, the guard announced our time was up. I made it as far as the parking lot before I let out a growl of frustration.
"Goddamn it! We were so close. A few more minutes..." I took a deep breath, retaking control. "Well, let's analyze what we've got. Kozlov crossed a hitman back in his mob days. As for how he crossed him--"