Michael Usher was rushing through the subway station on his way to an Adlon Hotel breakfast meeting with a NYC fund manager hoping to add eastern European real estate to his REIT, when he spotted Pawlowski’s picture at the subway newpaper kiosk.
It was done. Pawlowski was finally dead and gone. Out of his life for good.
Without slowing his gait, he plunked down euros, picked up an International Herald Tribune and scanned the story.
Hold on, the photo caption read, ‘Missing Polish Environment Minister-in-Waiting.’
‘Missing’? Usher stopped like a dropped stone. The stream of commuters on the subway platform split in two and flowed past him. He should be reading, ‘Dead’. ‘Killed in the holdup of a Prague pharmacy’. He should be reading about Filshin going down as well. ‘Also Shot and Killed by Police’ would have been the ideal, but he would have settled for ‘Arrested for Attempted Robbery.’ The plan had been perfect. What had gone wrong?
Pulling out his mobile, he cancelled his breakfast meeting and hopped on a subway train. He went on line and looked for more news about the Prague hold-up.
Nothing but speculations about the AWOL Polish government minister. They ran the gamut from his secretary’s, ‘worried’, to his friends’, ‘he takes little trips like this all the time; he’ll show up in a day or two’, to his New Jersey waste industry business partner Giovanni ‘Johnny’ Rienzo’s, ‘yeah, I’m flying out later today. Gotta check on my investments over there.’
Usher turned off the phone and got off at Alexanderplatz.
Above ground the day was grey and rainy, but people still wandered the square near the television tower. He turned up his collar and hurried across the plaza to the bank of payphones by the old East German World Clock. The trees weren’t tall enough to shelter the phones from the drizzle, but he was less likely to be overheard than inside the mini-mall. He inserted a disposable phone card, dialed Filshin’s house in Cleveland, then turned his back to the wind to keep the rain out of his face.
“Where is he?” He was livid, and barely kept his voice from screaming.
“Mr. Usher? Is you?” Filshin’s wife asked.
“Damn straight, it’s me!” Cold rain fed his anger. “Where’s Gennady?”
The woman hesitated. “He says he is working for you. In Europe.”
Christ! Idiot even told his wife. “Tell him to call me. Right away.”
“Everything is good, Mr. Usher?”
No, everything is not good, Usher thought, but it wouldn’t do to tip her off. “Just tell him to call.” He kept his voice flat. “Now. Give him this number.” He read the payphone number into the receiver and hung up.
A German businessman picking up a morning paper at the mini-mall kiosk looked in Usher’s direction. For a few seconds, he thought he had a tail, but no. The man ducked down the subway escalator into the U-Bahn.
Usher’s cell phone rang. He heard Filshin’s voice say ‘hello’ and pushed the ‘end call’ button without saying a word. Why didn’t Russians ever do as they were told? A few minutes more, then finally, the pay phone rang.
“Are you on a payphone?”
No answer.
“I’ve told you again and again, no cell phones. They are listened to.”
“Yes. So are landlines here in East. You get used to it, Mr. Usher. Is all matter of choosing which devil you are wishing to bargain with. My colleagues have had chance to inspect Russian prisons and are not being eager to repeat experience.”
The man was raving. Usher refused to let himself get drawn into a conversation that led in circles. “Are you on a payphone?”
“You must be taking chance also, Mr. Usher. We have been doing job for you. Dangerous job. Now you must be taking small chance by speaking on phone.”
How dare he! “Job? You haven’t done any job for me. Where the hell is he?”
“I have been telling you, is not being good idea. All you are doing, Mr. Usher, is speaking on phone. But Filshin must be going out and playing games with people who are not being very nice. With hoodlums.”
“Just finish it. No more money until it’s done.”
“This is being problem, Mr. Usher. We are having little argument about wages, my hired hoodlums and I. They are not being happy with what you and I will be paying them. They have become union of thugs that is striking against my management. I am not being good gang leader, I confess. Am only scientist. Hoodlum union is thinking Meitner will be paying more money for our friend’s safe return than Mr. Usher will be paying for killing him.
“You told them my name! You dumb . . .
“No. I am not being stupid. If my hoodlums are knowing your name, they will be killing me and coming to Berlin. But I am also not being good killer, Mr. Usher. I am thinking my hoodlums are right to be going to Meitner.”
“How dare you?” Usher scared himself with his outraged bellow. He looked to see if anyone had heard. No, thank God. The few people crossing the plaza were too far away.
“I was daring to keep from killing man you are wanting dead, Mr. Usher. Now I am daring to lead gang of thugs into thinking we can be getting ransom. All I am really wanting is to be going home to family in Cleveland…”
He wasn’t hearing right. “I’ll see that your family…”
“Go near my family, Mr. Usher, and he will be back on street in less than one hour. Maybe he will even be knowing name of man who is wanting him dead.”
How dare Filshin threaten him!
“I was saying, due to precarious position with employees, all I can be doing, is slowing down inevitable. You, Mr. Usher, must be leaving nice office and be taking Blue Sky barrels out of Meitner landfill. Then when I am paying employees with ransom money we will be getting, and letting him go, there will be nothing for him to be showing authorities. Is best I can be doing.”
Like hell. In his mind, Usher was already forging intercepts that would get Filshin’s name added to the terrorist watch list of individuals forbidden to enter the US of A. Kiss your kids goodbye, Asshole. Their mama’s going to have to find them a real American daddy.
18 Kaliningrad