Rasputin's Shadow by Raymond Khoury

Author:Raymond Khoury [Khoury, Raymond]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Thrillers, General
ISBN: 9780698138315
Google: qidFhG8VuokC
Amazon: 0525953132
Barnesnoble: 0525953132
Goodreads: 17624976
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2013-10-08T05:00:00+00:00

35

It hadn’t taken O’Neil long to pull Jonny’s file.

Yaung appeared to have risen through the ranks of his gang at warp speed and now seemed to all but run the entire show. He was still listed at his parents’ address in Murray Hill, but the jacket suggested he spent nearly all his time at his aunt’s restaurant, the Green Dragon, where his cousin Ae-Cha was the hostess. Jonny’s aunt also owned the three apartments above the restaurant, one of which she lived in. The file indicated that Jonny was more likely to be found there than at home, though it also made it clear that in more than three years of on-off investigation, neither vice nor narcotics had been able to make anything stick on anyone in Jonny’s gang. While the Russians used fear and intimidation to keep their bratki loyal, Kkangpae relied on a close-knit family loyalty that was almost impossible to unravel.

As he turned the car off Thirty-third Street, Aparo’s phone rang with the Dragnet theme tune. He made me proud so often. He took the call, said, “Aparo,” listened for a long moment, grunted a couple of “uh-huhs,” then ended the call with a laconic “Got it.”

“Three dead at the docks,” he informed me. “Two Russians. One Korean. The no-necks are covered with ink and the Korean kid had no ID. They’re running all the prints. They also found enough shell casings to suggest a major firefight—10mm, probably from an MP-5; point 338s, that’s a specialist sniper caliber; and some custom nine mils.”

“Jesus. Sounds like Jonny and his friend took on Ivan the Terrible and his goons.” Which was impressive, if foolhardy. “Anything else?”

“An Escalade. Grounded. Its front tire was hit.”

Just to rub it in. He’d faked us using an identical SUV.

I said, “We need to find out how Ivan got away.”

“Maybe the dead sniper had a car?”

“Possibly. They sending the tats to Joukowsky?”

“Yep.”

We parked across the street from the Green Dragon, but made no move to exit the vehicle.

Aparo looked at me. He knew how I got when something was nagging at me.

“Spit it out. I’m hungry.”

“It’s the van. I know it’s stupid, but . . . none of it makes sense. Sokolov hides it from his wife. Then he takes it to the docks. We’re missing something.” I shook the thought away. “Any sign of it?”

“Kanigher’s pulling up any CCTV and traffic-cam footage he can find around the area. Maybe we’ll pick up a trail.”

It would have to wait. “Okay. Let’s get you some kimchi before you pass out.”

We got out, walked past the ubiquitous bunch of smokers huddled outside the restaurant, and went in.

The place was surprisingly huge. It consisted of one long, high-ceilinged room, dimly lit and elaborately decorated. It felt old and authentic, without the merest soupçon of fusion. Even this late, it was packed with wall-to-wall diners crammed around small tables and an army of waiters and waitresses navigating the narrow aisles between them while ferrying massive platters of food. The

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