wall captured everything they said. When the brothers were done working out the details of their cover story Bollier laughed and sauntered into the room.
“Good evening gentlemen. I assume that you know who I am.”
Timur sat still as a gargoyle but Alexei nodded. Bollier repeated all of the finer points of the ridiculous cover story the two had concocted, and explained that she had been listening the whole time. When she was through Bollier asked if they were going to waste her time.
After a pause Alexei replied that they would cooperate.
“Excellent. So. You two know that I know what you were really doing at that house. The plan was to ambush my friend when he came looking for his sister, only when you saw him coming you decided that discretion was the wiser choice than valor. Correct?”
Grudgingly Alexei admitted that they fled from the wrath of “the army man,” as the Russians had taken to calling Jordan Ross.
“That was a good decision, gentlemen. You’re smarter than most of Shirokov’s flunkies. I appreciate that. I like intelligence, I find it very, very sexy, so I’m going to give you one chance. Just this once chance to tell me what your boss has done with that family. I want to know where they are and I want to know RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”
The two Prokorovs exchanged a series of worried gazes. Bollier stood up and leaned over the table, her arms splayed out wide like a bird of prey’s.
“Gentlemen. I thought you weren’t going to waste my time. I’m going to count to three. The first one of you who speaks up and tells me where the Pollards are can walk away from this with nothing but a misdemeanor charge. The other one is going to get a personal private audience with the army man. Tonight. Ready? One.”
Timur and Alexei looked like they were on the verge of defecating themselves as she began to count.
“Two.”
Before she reached three both of the Prokorov brothers started talking fast.
…
By the time it was over they gave Bollier everything she asked for and more. They practically fell over each other to provide details and information both about the Pollard family and about crimes she had never even heard of. In the end she felt she had no choice but to allow both of them to be taken into protective custody. She reviewed their statement with the Montville police Captain and entered them into the system. Bollier walked out of the station head held high, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in weeks. Even if Shirokov weaseled out of a conviction for the Riis Landing mess, they had him dead to rights on kidnapping charges. Bollier called Jordan Ross and Agent Clemons and told them to meet her at Stacey’s on 29th street.
It was nearing one thirty in the morning when she finally arrived after the drive back from Jersey. Her conspirators showed up just a couple of minutes later and the three of them took a booth in the back where nobody would overhear them talking.
While they were waiting for the waitress Bollier retold the story to Agent Clemons, then clued them both in on the Prokorov brothers’ defection. The waitress came over and Bollier ordered a Manhattan with Bulleit Rye, Jordan got the tap IPA, and Agent Clemons sheepishly asked for a club soda with no ice.
“Sounds like you want a real drink. You sure about that?” the waitress admonished him.
“Not in the slightest bit.”
“Just get him the club soda. He’s recovering.” Bollier interjected and the waitress didn’t ask for any further explanation.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Bollier answered, smiling. As the waitress sashayed away from their table, swinging her hips, Bollier swept a lock of hair behind her ear and turned to watch her go.
Agent Clemons sulked and hung his head low near the table where someone had carved their initials next to the letters X-T-C and drew a heart around it. He had not had alcohol since the sting
“Good evening gentlemen. I assume that you know who I am.”
Timur sat still as a gargoyle but Alexei nodded. Bollier repeated all of the finer points of the ridiculous cover story the two had concocted, and explained that she had been listening the whole time. When she was through Bollier asked if they were going to waste her time.
After a pause Alexei replied that they would cooperate.
“Excellent. So. You two know that I know what you were really doing at that house. The plan was to ambush my friend when he came looking for his sister, only when you saw him coming you decided that discretion was the wiser choice than valor. Correct?”
Grudgingly Alexei admitted that they fled from the wrath of “the army man,” as the Russians had taken to calling Jordan Ross.
“That was a good decision, gentlemen. You’re smarter than most of Shirokov’s flunkies. I appreciate that. I like intelligence, I find it very, very sexy, so I’m going to give you one chance. Just this once chance to tell me what your boss has done with that family. I want to know where they are and I want to know RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”
The two Prokorovs exchanged a series of worried gazes. Bollier stood up and leaned over the table, her arms splayed out wide like a bird of prey’s.
“Gentlemen. I thought you weren’t going to waste my time. I’m going to count to three. The first one of you who speaks up and tells me where the Pollards are can walk away from this with nothing but a misdemeanor charge. The other one is going to get a personal private audience with the army man. Tonight. Ready? One.”
Timur and Alexei looked like they were on the verge of defecating themselves as she began to count.
“Two.”
Before she reached three both of the Prokorov brothers started talking fast.
…
By the time it was over they gave Bollier everything she asked for and more. They practically fell over each other to provide details and information both about the Pollard family and about crimes she had never even heard of. In the end she felt she had no choice but to allow both of them to be taken into protective custody. She reviewed their statement with the Montville police Captain and entered them into the system. Bollier walked out of the station head held high, feeling truly hopeful for the first time in weeks. Even if Shirokov weaseled out of a conviction for the Riis Landing mess, they had him dead to rights on kidnapping charges. Bollier called Jordan Ross and Agent Clemons and told them to meet her at Stacey’s on 29th street.
It was nearing one thirty in the morning when she finally arrived after the drive back from Jersey. Her conspirators showed up just a couple of minutes later and the three of them took a booth in the back where nobody would overhear them talking.
While they were waiting for the waitress Bollier retold the story to Agent Clemons, then clued them both in on the Prokorov brothers’ defection. The waitress came over and Bollier ordered a Manhattan with Bulleit Rye, Jordan got the tap IPA, and Agent Clemons sheepishly asked for a club soda with no ice.
“Sounds like you want a real drink. You sure about that?” the waitress admonished him.
“Not in the slightest bit.”
“Just get him the club soda. He’s recovering.” Bollier interjected and the waitress didn’t ask for any further explanation.
“You sure?”
“Yes,” Bollier answered, smiling. As the waitress sashayed away from their table, swinging her hips, Bollier swept a lock of hair behind her ear and turned to watch her go.
Agent Clemons sulked and hung his head low near the table where someone had carved their initials next to the letters X-T-C and drew a heart around it. He had not had alcohol since the sting
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