Please, please, please.
Pia’s heart sank. It was a van, a blue van.
60.
SWISS HOUSE INN
NEW JERSEY
MARCH 25, 2011, 10:09 P.M.
Aleksander Buda waited in the parking lot of the Swiss House Inn for Fatos to arrive. It was a standing joke among the crew that the thinnest guy they knew was Fatos, although no one ever said it to his face more than once. Fatos was slender and wiry as a greyhound, with quick hands that made him very proficient with a knife. He was rarely seen without his baseball hat, worn jauntily backward like a hip-hop devotee. When Buda wanted backup like he wanted that evening, he always called Fatos.
As dependable as ever, five minutes after Buda arrived, Fatos pulled his black Cadillac sedan into an empty space next to Buda’s. Both cars were off by themselves at the back of the lot. Neither man got out. Buda barely acknowledged Fatos with a nod. They didn’t need to talk a lot.
Buda’s eyes swept around the half-full parking lot. A guy he thought might be Burim was sitting in a new Chevy Camaro in a slot facing out no more than twenty yards to his right. The driver sitting behind the wheel fastidiously ignored Buda. Then another car drove up, an Escalade, and Buda recognized Drilon riding high at the wheel. Drilon flashed his lights at the Camaro.
“Gang’s all here,” Buda said to himself.
Drilon parked, and first Burim, then Buda, then the other two men got out of their cars, met in the middle, and exchanged greetings.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Buda said. “I’m starved.”
The restaurant and bar was situated in a rather ordinary-looking two-story wood-frame house painted a deep green with white trim. Except for the lighted sign announcing SWISS HOUSE INN in front of the building next to the road, the structure didn’t look much like a restaurant, more like another house along the road only in better shape. The parking lot was fairly full, so it was obviously a popular place on a Friday night. Burim walked in the door first and the lady at the door made a fuss of him, asking after his health and saying his table was ready. Buda guessed he’d called ahead and was a frequent patron. Other diners who had been waiting to be seated took one look at the group and to a man and woman decided not to make an issue with the men who jumped the line. They were all in oversized leather jackets, the accepted attire of the Albanian mafia.
In the back of the busy restaurant was a single booth situated partway between the kitchen and the main room. The only traffic was from staff coming out of the kitchen, several of whom made a point of saying hello to Burim.
“So they know you in here,” Buda said. He was mildly disappointed. If he’d known Burim was a regular, he wouldn’t have agreed to the location.
“I’m a big tipper,” Burim said, winking at Drilon across the table.
Buda studied the two men. Drilon was sweating and looked distinctly uncomfortable. Burim was relaxed and exuded calm confidence. Burim got the looks and the brains, Buda thought.
“What can I get you guys?”
It was the hostess doing double duty. They ordered four beers and the special, schnitzel, all around.
“So here’s the deal, gentlemen,” Buda said. He dove right in, dispensing with small talk. “I’m doing a job for someone and halfway through, there’s a problem. The problem is this girl who is sticking her nose in, investigating a situation and making things very difficult for me. We tried to dissuade her, but it didn’t work. The sensible course is to eliminate the problem, so I clear it with my client, who is willing to pay a hundred grand for the extra work, meaning to take care of the meddling bitch.”
Buda paused to take a sip of water and he glanced at Fatos. Fatos knew the contract was for $250,000, but there was no reason these guys had to know.
“If, as might be the case, this girl is your daughter, then you have to take responsibility for her, and you and me, we’ll share the money. But that means it’s your responsibility to make absolutely sure she desists from investigating this case, from poking around, from talking to people, from thinking about it, from dreaming about it. And if she isn’t your daughter, then we will fulfill the contract and you must promise not to mention anything about what we have done. In that case you get a quarter of the money for your inconvenience.”
“Where is she right now?” Burim asked. At that point he was anticipating meeting her.
“Not far from here. She’s perfectly safe.”
“And what was she sticking her nose into, as you put it?”
“I’d rather not say. Ah, our food already.”
The steaming plates of schnitzel and noodles arrived. Remembering Prek’s request, Buda ordered four more to go.
“The key point is,” Buda said, poised with a forkful of veal, “that she stops doing what she’s doing. I have to tell you, she’s making things very dangerous for me. It would be good if she went on a long vacation.”
“I’m sure we can arrange that,” Burim said. He had no reason to believe he could make that happen, but he liked the idea that there was to be a payday in this for him. “Right, Drilon?”
“Sure.” Drilon was facing his own set of demons, but he had little choice but to play along. He pushed a noodle around the edge of his plate with his fork.
“We’re happy to help you, Mr. Buda, but we are incurring some more expenses here,” Burim said.
“Don’t worry,” Buda said, “we’ll take care of dinner.”
“No, really, your money is no good here. There will be other expenses, for the girl.” Burim had already decided the girl had to be his missing daughter. The coincidences were too extraordinary. And if the girl’s personality resembled that of his late wife, he was going to need some cash to even hope to control her.
“Of course,” Buda said. He had been expecting this. “I think ten thousand is a fair amount for the girl.”
“For her inconvenience,” Burim said. Buda nodded at Fatos, who leaned back and shuffled some bills under the table and presented Burim with a thick wad folded in half.
“Either way,” Buda said, “daughter or no daughter. If she is not your daughter, you can keep the cash for your expenses.”
“You have been very thoughtful,” Burim said.
“And you have been very cooperative,” Buda said.
Buda and Burim shook hands across the table, and in turn all four men shook hands, making the agreement as binding as any legal document in Albanian tradition and logic. The men finished their meal quickly, and with the takeout in hand, they left. Burim, having left three twenties on the table as a tip, was detailed to follow Buda, who would lead the way in a motorcade of sorts.
As Burim walked out of the restaurant, he patted his pocket with the fresh bulge of cash and smiled, thinking it was going to be an interesting and profitable evening.
61.
GREEN POND, NEW JERSEY
MARCH 25, 2011, 11:15 P.M.
There was nothing the occupants of the summer house could do but wait. Prek sat next to Neri on one couch with Genti and Pia sitting opposite. He had thought about tying her up, as he should have done before, but he didn’t want to make a worse impression than he had to. Besides, the girl wasn’t going anywhere. Prek had found an old T-shirt in a closet and gave it to Pia to wear along with one of his own New York Jets sweatshirts he kept at the house. The jersey came halfway down her thighs. She also wore a pair of soccer socks pulled up to her knees. She had draped a towel over her shoulders, but she was still shivering.
Pia sat and glared at Neri. That was the guy who had touched her, she was sure of it. She stole glances at the other guys too—the one who seemed to be in charge with the thick scar on his upper lip, and the guy with the dominating nose. She wasn’t entirely certain but believed they were the men who had attacked her the night before. She recognized their voices.
Prek cradled a gun in his hand. He wondered if he would have to use it that night, and if so, who would be the target. He could make a case for any of them: Neri for braz
enly disobeying an order, and Genti for failing to stop him. The only person Prek wasn’t mad at was Pia. He admired her for trying to escape and for getting as far as she had. If he had to shoot her, it would not be emotional. It would just be business.
At least the fiasco was going to have a conclusion soon, thought Prek, as he heard a group of cars pull into the driveway one after the other. A moment later they heard car doors opening and then slamming shut in quick succession.
“Go wait in the bedroom,” Prek said to Pia.
As soon as Buda, Fatos, Burim, and Drilon walked into the house, they could all tell that something was wrong. The atmosphere among the three men inside was clearly strained. Neri was sitting on the couch, staring at the floor and didn’t stand up. Genti wouldn’t make eye contact, and Prek acted fit to be tied. Buda had to find out what had happened and fast.
“Gentlemen,” he said, turning to Burim and Drilon. “I left the food we picked up in the back of my car. Would you mind? I’d just like to have a quick word with my guys.”
Burim and Drilon left the room and closed the door. Buda lit into Prek.
“What the fuck is going on here? Stand up, Neri! Genti, look at me when I’m talking! Where’s the girl?”
“She’s in the bedroom,” Prek said. “She got out the window, jumped in the lake, and swam off.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes, but we found her right away.”
“Did anyone see her?”
“No, I’m certain. There’s no one here but us.”
“You quite sure about that?”
“Yes.”
Buda’s three men were standing like guilty schoolboys in front of the principal.
“What happened to you?” Buda asked Neri, whose eye was closing rapidly. Neri didn’t speak but looked across at Prek.
“Did she do that?”
“No,” Prek said. “I did.”
“What for?” Buda leaned forward, his hands on his hips. Fatos was standing by the door with his arms crossed. The message was clear: No one out or in.
“Prek,” Buda said, “you better tell me what happened right now, or we’re going to have a major problem.”
“He attacked the girl,” Prek said. Neri’s face fell. He’d hoped Prek would make up some story on his behalf.
“Was that before or after she escaped?”
“Before.”
“And where were you?” he asked Genti.
Silence.
“All right, I’ll deal with this later. It all depends on whether or not this girl is the daughter. Let’s hope for you she isn’t. Fatos, let’em in.”
“Burim, Drilon,” said Buda in as friendly a tone as he could manage. “What happened here is that the girl tried to escape, but she didn’t succeed. My men are very embarrassed, as they should be.”
Burim looked at Neri but no explanation was forthcoming regarding his injury.
“My wife was certainly a tigress,” he said. “Perhaps this woman is too. Mr. Buda, I am ready to meet her.”
Buda showed Burim into the bedroom and left. Pia was sitting on the bed, facing the window, shivering.
“Afrodita. Pia,” Burim said. “Is it really you? I am Burim. Burim Grazdani. I think I’m your father. Pia, look at me, please.”
Pia sat for a second and then turned, glowering at the man, her face clouded with unadulterated fury and loathing. Burim’s expression went from disbelief to pure amazement.
“Oh, God,” he said. “You’re exactly your mother’s image.” Burim knew the look she had on her face, from the first Pia, a beautiful woman full of hatred. Burim had feelings he’d never experienced and couldn’t come close to articulating.
“I’m told you’re a student at Columbia Medical School. That’s amazing. You must be very intelligent.”
Pia had turned around again, and Burim continued talking to her back.
“You look like your mother, you know that? Probably you don’t. The same hair, the same eyes, it’s amazing.”
Pia said nothing. Could it possibly be him?
“I feel this is a miracle, our meeting. Pia, please say something.”
Silence.
“Your uncle Drilon is here.”
Now Pia reacted. She hacked up some spittle and spat loudly on the floor by the bed. Burim was disconsolate.
“Pia, I’m sorry I never came for you. I was young and stupid. I meant to come, so many times, but I knew that if I came forward they would find out I was illegal in this country and send me home, and then I would never have a chance of seeing you. I was working with these guys, the Rudaj group, you know, and the organization fell apart, and Drilon and I had to go underground. Then when we started working for Ristani, we had to change our names and leave our pasts behind. I wish we didn’t have to do it, but we did. Pia, please.”
As soon as Pia saw Burim’s face, she knew who he was. This was the man she had waited years for, the man who put her through torments while she fervently hoped that he’d come back to save her. He never did. Now he was showing up, and for what? And he had brought that monster with him? What were they going to do, kill her? At this point, Pia barely cared.
“Listen, I know I abandoned you, but suddenly, now that I see you, it’s important to me that you are my daughter and that you’re safe.”
“Safe? Do you have any idea what it was like for me in foster care?” Pia snarled. Burim was startled by the sound of her voice.
“Do you?”
“But you’re going to be a doctor, look how it all ended up!”
“This is how it ended up, you moron. Guns, gangsters, murderers. That’s what I remember from being a kid. And my mom was there, and then she wasn’t. What happened to her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a liar!” Pia turned and screamed the words. Buda opened the door—he must have been standing right outside.
“Everything okay?”
“Leave us, please,” Burim said. Silent tears were tracking down Pia’s face. She turned back around and faced the wall. Pia couldn’t make sense of what was happening. How was her father involved with the people who murdered Rothman, Yamamoto, and Will McKinley? They had been waiting for him to show up, which meant that he might be able to stop them killing her too. When she spoke again, Pia’s voice was quieter.
“That’s all I know about you. That you’re a liar.”
“I’m here now.”
“Are you here to finish the job they started?”
“I understand why you say these things, but you have to believe me, I am here to save you.”
“You and your white horse.”
“What?”
“Whatever.”
“What I am telling you is no lie. Those guys in the other room, they have been paid money to stop you because you were looking into some deaths. And they want you to stop looking.”
Pia said nothing.
“They know you have an Albanian name and they asked around if anyone knows you, and I said, ‘Yes, maybe.’ It’s the case that Albanian cannot kill Albanian: not in our business unless the killer wants to die too. If you weren’t Albanian, if you weren’t my daughter, you would be dead already. Do you understand?”
“That’s very nice of them.”
“Actually, it is, yes.”
“They murdered my teacher and another doctor by giving them typhoid fever and a massive dose of polonium. Tonight they murdered my friend by shooting him in the head because he was helping me. I should be grateful to them because they’re sparing me?”
“I can’t do anything about the other people. What I can do is save you.”
“And how will you do that?”
“I guarantee them that you will give up your investigation. And that you won’t mention their involvement to the authorities. Take a vacation. Something. We can work it out.”
“You? You haven’t seen me since I was six. They’ll take your word?”
“If I give it, yes. I have shaken their
hand, and my family honor is at stake.”
“Or they’ll kill me.”
“Or they’ll kill you.”
“And you’ll take my word that I’ll give up?”
“If you give me your word, yes.”
Pia snorted. It seemed that the only person who could save her was her father, the least likely person on the planet, the person she trusted the least and hated the most, the man who was the cause of all her travails. In a situation that defied comprehension, Pia tried to think dispassionately. The drug wasn’t completely out of her system, she could tell; she was more fatigued than she could ever remember being, and frightened and upset and angry. Yet she had to think.
In order to live, Pia would have to promise to stop investigating, but could she do that? There was very little left to investigate. At the OCME, she had proved that polonium was involved in Rothman’s and Yamamoto’s deaths and she was certain the MEs would be looking into what she had found. The police would surely be all over Columbia, searching for Will’s killers and her kidnappers. There was nothing more she could contribute to the investigation, other than providing evidence, and he hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Her work was finished.
“As if you care about family honor,” she said.
“I do. But if you don’t believe it, take my word that I care about my honor.”
“And that’s all I have to do, stop investigating?”
“But you really have to stop—maybe go away for a while. You have to believe me, they will kill you otherwise. Whatever you think of me, you have to look at the alternative. You have to stay as quiet as you can. If you lead the police to Buda, there’s no chance that you would ever testify against him.”
Pia realized she had no choice. But perhaps there was something her father could do for her and right some of the wrongs she had suffered. Pia turned to face him.
“Okay. But you should know, not all these men have been exactly honorable with me.”
“I’m glad you agree, Pia. But what do you mean?”