White Russian by Steven Henry

Author:Steven Henry [Henry, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clickworks Press
Published: 2018-11-07T16:00:00+00:00

Erin called Vic as soon as she was out the door of the Corner. He picked up on the second ring.

“Neshenko.”

“Hey, Vic? You still sober?”

“Sober as I ever am. What's up?”

“I got a lead on the Russians.”

“Start talking.”

She filled him in as she walked quickly to her apartment. “So, you want to go back down to Little Odessa?” she finished.

“Tonight?”

“Why wait? I want to rattle Vlasov, see what shakes loose.”

“Just the two of us?”

“And Rolf.”

“Okay. I'll meet you at the precinct in twenty. I'll call the Lieutenant, tell him what's going down.”

Rolf had thought they were done for the night, so he was excited to be on another car ride. Erin buckled on her vest, fastened Rolf into his own armor, and pocketed an extra mag for her Glock, just in case.

Vic was waiting curbside at the precinct. He climbed into the passenger seat, a little awkwardly. He was wearing his vest, too, and it kept his bulky frame from bending easily.

“How good is your info?” he asked.

“I think it's solid,” she said. “My guy's not totally sure Vlasov's our man, but he's definitely in the right line of business.”

“We're rushing this a little,” Vic said. He turned the keyboard of her car's computer toward himself and started typing. “We haven't done a full background on Vlasov. I called Jones. She's looking him up now, and she'll call us with whatever she comes up with.” He paused, reading the screen. “Okay, we've got a whole bunch of priors here. A couple weapons charges, aggravated assault, pandering, compelling prostitution, sex trafficking... yeah, sounds like our guy all right.”

“All that? Jesus. How long did we have this son of a bitch locked up?” she demanded.

“Most of it didn't stick,” he said. “He did eighteen months on the assault charge, took probation for the weapon beefs. The rest of the charges were dropped. No witnesses. Looks like... shit, the sex trafficking charges were dismissed when they lost track of the girls.”

“Lost track, as in they skipped town, or...?”

“They fished one of them out of the Lower Bay,” Vic said. “Two others just vanished. Vlasov walked.”

She gritted her teeth. “He threw them away.”

“It's what happens when you treat people like things,” he said with a shrug. “Once you cross that line, all sorts of possibilities open up.”

They had a missed call from Jones when they exited the tunnel under the East River and got their cell reception back. Vic called her and put her on speaker.

“Peter Vlasov, born Pyotr,” Jones said. “Age forty-five. Immigrated from Russia ten years back. His file's flagged by Interpol. He's got a few Russian prison tattoos, and he certainly did some time over there, but I can't get into the Russian files. I submitted a request, but knowing the way they work over there, we won't hear back for three to six.”

“Days?” Erin asked hopefully.

“Months,” Jones corrected.

“Assuming they get back to us at all,” Vic said.

“We know about the stuff in his New York jacket,” Erin said. “And we've got his mugshot.

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