Re: Skin the Wolfe: Chapter 10: 1 - Obscure Reasons
Chapter 10 Obscure Reasons
*
Piotr entered Alexeij Danilenko's IT company headquarters in Western Miami through
the side doors.
It was Saturday and the other collaborators enjoyed a well-merited weekend. Piotr
had brought Marja Feodorovna and Miss Ramona back to the old lady's home after
their visit with the boss, smilingly listening to Marja Feodorovna's playful chiding of
Miss Ramona, who must have pulled off quite a show to get the phone and envelope
into Sarnoff's hands without any of the prison guards noticing the transfer.
Piotr smiled. He was cast in iron , stone hard muscles all over and with a face, that
only a mother could love, but deep inside he cherished his sentimental Russian soul
and this soul was not entirely convinced that the Puerto Riccan beauty had just
pulled off a show.
He had seen her eyes on the boss during diners at Marja Feodorovna's and he was
willing to wager his considerable monthly financial allowance from the 'Bratstvo' that
Ramona was in love with him. Ivan Andrejvitsch himself –while excessively prudent,
when it came to showing his softer sides- seemed to fancy her, too.
Piotr had been prior to a few of the bosses flings –one-night-stands they called them
in America- and while he had always been generous and polite with these ladies, he
had never spend more then a fleeing thought on them. With Miss Ramona, he
behaved different…as if he'd like to have something serious, something long-term.
He courted her in a very old-fashioned manner!
"So, Piotr! Everything went according to plan?" Danilenko asked, without looking up
from the work he was doing. CSI Wolfe's weapon had served him, to take the man's
fingerprints and now he was carefully trying to reproduce them with the help of a
special modelling plastic, that would dry without becoming hard. He intended to
construct a complete fingerprints set from both hands on two gloves.
"Otlitshno!" The broad shouldered body guard replied. "He has both, the envelope
with the screenshots and the cell phone." He smiled. "There is something else, you
should know, Alexeij Valentinovitsch! About Miss Ramona!"
Danilenko looked up. Had there been a problem? Had he misplaced his trust and
chosen the wrong person? A slight frown lay on his boyish face.
Piotr understood without words and shook his head." No, there was nothing wrong.
Quite the contrary, Alexeij Valentinovitsch. She insisted to pass the stuff over to the
boss, because she did not want your Babushka anywhere in a potentially
compromising situation. She is a good woman and I think that it may be possible to
let her in on some of our secrets."
"Continue!" Danilenko encouraged the bodyguard. His keen green eyes locked into
Piotr's blue ones. He had already had a feeling, that Miss Sanchez had been a rare
find , not only for Babushka, but potentially for the 'Bratstvo'.
"She is very upset that Ivan Andreijvitsch is in prison…even scandalised. I think, she
is very fond of the boss and willing to do whatever it takes to get him out of
BunkerHill."
"I see!" Replied Danilenko. There was nothing wrong with Ramona being in love with
the boss. Sarnoff was well-bred, educated and polite, when he chose to be. He
always behaved like a gentleman with the weaker sex and was very protective of
those, whom he had chosen to trust.
He had observed the interaction between his 'Babushka's' governess and the boss for
more then a year, during socialising and diner parties and he had not only seen the
girl's eyes on Ivan Andreijvitsch ,but also the very expensive and carefully chosen
gifts the boss brought for her.
His last gift, before Lieutenant Caine and that nasty little Wolfe had tricked him into
prison, had been a 5000 Dollars necklace from one of Miami's most fashionable and
hip jewellers, perfectly chosen to suit a young and pretty woman. Ramona wore it
constantly!
"This is precious information. She may be of help, Piotr! But I do not want to get her
in harms way….I'll think of it."
**
Horatio Caine could have enjoyed his weekend away from work. Habitually he did.
He'd sleep late, forget about his job, eat a decent breakfast, read a newspaper, go
and meet friends or simply enjoy peace and quite on a long hike in the Everglades
National Park through the pine rocklands of the Marjory Stoneman Douglas
Wilderness Area.
He stared into his empty cup of coffee as if he could find some answers in there.
They had messed it up. Rather badly. He and his whole team very dangerously close
to get themselves into a downward spiral and Horatio felt, that somehow, this
strange decline was his fault.
They had been through many a test and trial together, over the years and they had
always managed to make it through the dark and back into the light, no matter how
difficult or dangerous their situation had been.
Horatio leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. When had it all begun?
When Kyle, the son he had not known about, had come into his life together with
Julia and all his former lover's personal problems?
He shook his head: It had not been Kyle and Julia, also he admitted that his
professional conduct had been -at occasions- rather questionable, when it had come
to this two people, who were close to his heart.
When he had stepped on the toes of Ivan Sarnoff and his Russian mob, following
the brutal murder of ship owner Nathan Madden at Sarnoff's mixed martial arts club
'The Agean'?
Once again, Caine shook his head: It had nothing to do with the vendetta, Sarnoff
had pronounced against him and his team.
They had seen this type of menace before; from arms dealers, private security
companies, drugs dealers, the Mala Noche and even from inside the system in the
person of former Miami Dade State attorney Monica West. No, the problem was not
Sarnoff, although he was a fearsome enemy who had already proven to Horatio that
even from inside a prison cell, he was capable to do tremendous harm.
Harm!
No, Horatio knew exactly when this downward spiral had begun.
It had been a very slow, but very harmful development, that had started with the
homicide investigation at Coconut Grove after the murder of Jay Fisher, a well-known
Miami jeweller and suspected drugs dealer. He and Tripp had taken that little dealer
Johnny Nixon on the crime scene and Johnny's statement, that Eric Delko was one of
his clients had brought Stetler and the IAB on the plan.
The case quickly became extremely personal, when Horatio got himself involved.
Ever since the Jay Fisher homicide investigation things had become extremely
personal for Horatio, whenever Eric turned up on the scene. And even more so, after
they had lost Marisol to the killer from the Mala Noche gang……
He gave a deep sigh. He was responsible for this downward spiral!
Responsible, because he had taken Eric's side against all others, even when Eric was
wrong.
Responsible, because he had closed his eyes on many a mistake, Eric had made
during investigations or outside in his private life and which had had an influence
upon his crime lab.
Responsible, because he had accepted, that Delko returned to work much too early
after him having been shot by a henchman of Clavo Cruz and responsible, because
he was now closing his eyes once again on Eric and his out-of-bounds relationship
with Calleigh…..and on the close knit entity they formed, excluding all others and
living inside their bubble.
Horatio was thinking the events of the last few days over, trying to analyse every
moment, since they had discovered their images on Cameron West's camera.
The Russian mob had been watching their every move and there had been
absolutely no more doubt about the fact that each and every on his team were in
danger. He had asked Eric to ring Wolfe and Delko had replied, that his cellular was
closed down. He had requested that Eric would insist and call again. Had Delko done
it or not? He had not the slightest idea and honestly speaking, after having dismissed
Eric, Calleigh and Natalia and having taken his own leave for the day, he had not
worried about Wolfe either.
The next morning, he had been too much occupied with the Ian Hamilton homicide
in that downtown office tower to even realize that something was wrong with Ryan.
Hell, they were all highly experienced forensic investigators whose job it was to look
for the smallest detail and none of them – Horatio included – had noticed Wolfe's
split lip, the slightly bluish mark on his face, the badly hidden marks on the skin of
his neck, the dark shadows under the young CSI's eyes…….shouldn't they have
wondered if that had perhaps something to do with him not replying on his cell
phone….him going literally missing –together with an enormous, silver Crime Lab
Hummer?
Horatio did not feel well. He felt guilty. Guilty of neglect of one of his own. And he
had brushed off Wolfe last night on the phone. Not even a "Mister Wolfe, is
everything ok, son?" from Horatio.
Thinking of it: He had never ever shown any compassion for Ryan and now he
wondered that while he obviously had Wolfe's loyalty, he did not have his trust!
Horatio Caine knew, that he had lost Ryan's trust already a very long time
ago….when he had fired him for this one single protocol mistake of not having told
them what he had known; Ryan had been fired for having been directly linked to
murder suspect Michael Lipton on the Brett Gibbs homicide investigation, and not
disclosing it to Horatio and to Internal Affairs and not admitting to the fact, that he
played poker for money during his free time.
The fact, that Wolfe also paid off his gambling debts with perfectly legal money had
not even been considered but used against Ryan, when Yelina had shown them the
tape recording. Horatio was fully aware, that Wolfe had inherited about two and a
half million dollars from his grand mother at his 18th birthday and that this money
had been placed in some old-fashioned trustee fund, where the young CSI had to
request acces via a law firm that handled the entire legacy of Granny Wolfe, shared
between several relatives, a foundation that granted a scholarship at University
College Galway in Irland and a small arts museum somewhere in Massachusetts.
Horatio admitted now, that this had been an extreme punishment for a rather slight
offence, that would have been better handled by simply taking Wolfe off the case.
Eric had done worse on many occasions and never ever even had to face the full-
fledged wrath of IAB, because Caine had always put his foot down, before things
would turn really nasty for Delko.
The Lieutenant carried his empty coffee cup into the kitchen. It was not a good idea
to wait and let Ryan deal all alone with what had happened during these 12 night
hours in the hands of the Russian mob and the follow-on day and investigation. He
would go to the young man's place on Clemente Park right now.
Caine parked the huge Crime Lab Humvee right behind Wolfe's dark green
LandRover. So his young CSI was at home, probably licking his wounds and
brooding.
Horatio crossed the street and entered the pretty, old-fashioned garden in front of
the beautifully restored house through a wrought-iron gate. He used the brass
knocker on the door. Wolfe had no bell, but only a historical implement in the form
of a lion's paw, that went with the atmosphere of the house dating back to the first
half of the XIX.century. There was no reaction inside. He knocked again, more
insistingly. Still no reply.
Horatio wondered, if Wolfe would perhaps be in the rather large garden behind the
house and allowed himself to trespass on private property for the sake of his team
and its youngest member.
The garden was pretty, full of ancient azalea bushes in multiple coulours, ranging
from pure white to blood red. But Ryan was not there either. Horatio looked up to
the terrace on the second floor. It was a specific feature of these old houses to have
a large, covered terrace attached to the upper level.
Caine had read in some book on the history of Miami, that this architectural feature
had been imported from New Orleans and the French community residing there. It
was –so said the book- a small range replica of the wrought-iron constructions that
had been fashionable in France at the same time.
There was nobody on the terrace!
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialled Wolfe's service cellular. He had
almost expected it. The phone was shut down. He redialled another number. His
CSI's personal phone. No reply!
Horatio had suddenly the feeling that something was not right. He looked around
and realized that Wolfe's old-fashioned house had a backdoor that led directly into
the garden. For an obscure reason, this backdoor was not shut, but stood slightly
open, as if somebody had forgotten to pull it closed.
He gave a deep sigh. Ryan had not been well on the phone, last night!
His voice had been subdued…shaky. And while his young CSI had been extremely
tight-lipped about the 12 hours he had spend in the hands of that Russian mobster,
Horatio had a fairly down-to-earth idea of what might have happened in the
abandonned sugar processing plant. He, too had seen the battered body of Nathan
Madden, the slip owner who had been unwilling to give up his home and had dared
to try and fight for it at Ivan Sarnoff's gym.
He felt a tight knot in his belly…..and what if Ryan had been really badly damaged by
that ruthless mobster and had been only too proud to tell? They had given him more
then one reason to assume, that nobody cared….. Horatio let himself in through the
back door.
Ten minutes later, he stood in Wolfe's kitchen and the tight knot in his belly had
become something like a football.
While he could fully appreciate a clean and well-organised house, this place was too
clean and too well organised, even for a man, who admitted that he had an OCD.
The place litterally stank from cleaning products of all type and while he could
imagine Ryan keeping his pretty place comfortable and cosy, he could not imagine
the younger man obsessively employing bleach and desinfectant.
This house had not been cleaned…it had been treated like a former crime
scene….including professional removal of victims blood etc. There were several
private companies in Miami who did this type of job for unfortunate house owners
after unfortunate violent incidents!
Caine decided that it was time to take a Crime Scene kit from the Humvee and find
out, if his gut feeling was right.
When he had not even found the house owner's very own fingerprints on the light
switches of the kitchen, he was certain. They had a problem about the size of a fully
grown dinosaur……He decided to go upstairs and have a look.
And while the antic, bathroom and guest chamber were perfectly clean, he realised
that in the master bedroom – he was sure, this was Ryan's bedroom, because he
recognized some of his clothes in an antique cherry wood armoire-something
was….strange. The smell of violent cleaning products hung in the air, but it was
overlaid with a sweeter, more familiar smell….a smell of…blood.
He pulled on a pair of medical gloves, closed the shutters and let a blue-light torch
wander over the bed and walls. The bed was clean, but the wallpaper –something
like silken tissue and not really paper- revealed traces.
Habitually Horatio was not one to liberally use Luminol, but the situation was such,
that employing the rather robust chemical was perfectly justified. He sprayed it all
over the silken wall tissue. Hardly ten seconds later he saw a set of letters rising. And
suddenly the text that had been written in blood on Wolfe's bedchamber wall
became perfectly clear.
"Two million dollars for the hunter that will skin the Wolfe!"
Horatio Caine gasped. Ryan had tried to tell him after the Backdraft Case and Ivan
Sarnoff's arrest, that the Russian mobster meant every word he spoke. So here it
was, written in blood and legible for each and every CSI, who was capable of using
Luminol Spray….Wolfe had been right. Sarnoff had meant every word he had said
down in that parking lot on the Miami Horse racing Track.
He took a cotton and sampled carefully from the silk. Then he took a pair of scissors
and cut a piece of tissue. He put both samples into plastic sample bags. Since
Sarnoff had ordered someone to write a warning onto Wolfe's bedchamber wall,
Caine was relatively sure, that the blood would not be his young CSI's. But he was
also relatively sure, that something had happened to Ryan, that he was either once
more in the hands of the Russians or that he was trying to give them the slip and
handle this hit order on his head all alone.
He closed the field kit, closed the door of the bed chamber and left Wolfe's house
through the same back door, he had come in. He started the Humvee, drew it out of
its parking lot and hit the road, speeding towards the CSI Lab and perhaps….some
answers to his many questions.
