Top Secret Twenty-One: A Stephanie Plum Novel(50)

“You might think about getting a new lawyer,” Sergei said.

I grabbed Briggs by the arm and hauled him to his feet. “Upsy-daisy,” I said.

Briggs gingerly tried his leg. “It’s a miracle!”

“Oh gosh, look at the time,” I said. “I have to be at work. Thank you so much for looking into this for me. I’ll check back next week.”

“I didn’t get your name,” Sergei said.

“Joyce Barnhardt.”

Briggs was already in the elevator, holding the door for me. I jumped in, and Briggs hit the button for the first floor.

We passed the brunette on our way out. She was at the door, presumably waiting for the EMTs.

“False alarm,” I said to her. “So sorry.”

A black Rangeman SUV rolled down the street and stopped in front of us. Briggs and I got into the backseat. Ranger was in the front seat, and one of his men was driving. A second Rangeman SUV was behind us.

I removed my earbud and gave it back to Ranger. “It looks like you’re ending surveillance on the consulate.”

“I am. I don’t see Vlatko returning.”

“We did good, right?” Briggs said to me. “Did you see the brilliant way I diverted the Ruskie’s attention away from his desk so you could steal the dossier? That was an Academy Award–winning performance. I should be a movie actor. I’d make all those other Hobbits look like crap.”

Ranger turned in his seat and looked at me. “Did you get the dossier?”

“I photographed it.” I pulled the document photos up on my phone and sent them to Ranger, and he downloaded them into his phone.

“Viktor Volkov,” he said, reading off his phone. “He’s here as a representative of the Russian Ministry of Industry and Trade. A government liaison to the Russian spirits trade mission.”

“Vodka,” I said.

“Yes, among other liquors, but primarily vodka. This gives a Moscow address as his permanent residence, and several contact addresses while he’s in this country. The contact addresses are all hotels. One in Miami, the Gatewell Hotel, and a hotel in Atlantic City.”

“There’s a big international trade show coming to Atlantic City,” I said. “The Russian vodka makers will be part of it. The consulate official I spoke to said he was there making arrangements for some important general who would be speaking.”

“From the little I know about Vlatko, I’m guessing almost everything in this dossier is cover and not true. He probably has a local handler who knows more, but the consulate staff would know only what they see here and take it at face value. Russian bureaucrats learn not to ask questions.”

“But we know he’s going to Atlantic City,” I said. “He might not have stayed in the hotels he gave, but he was in Miami and New York. And it looks like his cover was created to bring him into contact with the vodka makers. So maybe his primary target is one of the vodka makers.”

“That’s too simple,” Ranger said. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to get Vlatko here. He’s a Russian government assassin and a specialist. He’s been sent here to eliminate someone who’s difficult to reach, or he’s been sent here to create chaos.”

“He’s off to a good start in Trenton,” I said.

“Fortunately, there was only one death. It looks like McCready is going to be okay. And I should be back in my building sometime tomorrow.”





TWENTY-TWO


RANGER DROPPED BRIGGS off at my apartment.

“Thanks,” I said to Briggs. “You were great.”

“What? I need a mate?”

“No! You were great!” I yelled. “Thank you!”

“Yeah, anytime,” Briggs said. “I could use some wine when you get back this way. Mine went when the car blew up.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll make sure you get wine.”

“I could have someone pick him up and drop him off in North Carolina,” Ranger said.

I declined the offer, and parted company with Ranger at the bail bonds office.

“Hey, look who’s back,” Lula said. “Is everything secure in Rangerland?”

“Pretty much. I think he’ll be able to go back into his building tomorrow.”

“I have a new skip for you,” Connie said. “Forest Kottel. He’s a low-level bond, and there’s no rush on it. Gives his address as a cardboard box on Geneva Street, off Stark. Wanted for shoplifting in a grocery store on Stark.”

“That’s just sad,” Lula said. “A man finds a nice box to live in, you’d think he could put it someplace better than that corner.”

“Vinnie bonded out a homeless person?” I asked Connie. “How did this guy secure his bond?”

“A relative in Cleveland wired the money.”

I took the file and shoved it into my bag. “I’m going to mooch lunch from my mom,” I said. “I’ll probably stop back later this afternoon.”

“I got a better idea,” Lula said. “How about if I go with you, and then after you mooch lunch we can look for Forest? His box is a block away from the pizza place in Buster’s building. If we get there in the middle of the afternoon, I bet there’s no line, and we can waltz right in and get pizza.”