It took several hours before Korzun called Gromov back with a contact.
His name is Eli Maddick and hell be expecting your call.
Yuri gave Gromov the background on Maddick, how all of Korzuns associates in Miami, New Orleans, Houston and Dallas, vouched for him as a consultant. The speed and quality of his information is unsurpassed.
Korzun said that Maddick was a prison official who had resigned five years ago after allegations surfaced that he had controlled several inmates to make a brutal attack on other inmates. The men who were allegedly beaten at Maddicks command contacted attorneys, who claimed their clients had had their civil rights violated. The FBI launched an investigation but soon all statements were mysteriously recanted and all complaints were withdrawn.
Maddick agreed to voluntarily resign and take early retirement.
Nothing was ever proven.
Since retiring, Maddick did a bit of confidential security consulting, using his expertise and contacts to help clients obtain information on the justice system.
It was late last night when Gromov called him on the cell number Korzun had provided and told him of his situation concerning Mason Varno. Maddick listened and said little. Then he gave Gromov directions, details and the time to meet before quoting his consulting fee, which was to be paid in cash, with nonsequential serial numbers. Ill have the information you need.
Gromov and Yanna rose early to make the estimated four-hour drive from Lufkin to Fort Worth, to make it in time to the suburban fast-food restaurant where Maddick was now waiting.
Eli? Gromov said.
Maddick looked up from his newspaper at Gromov and Yanna.
Im Sergei, and this is my niece, Tatiana. Gromov adhered to his practice of using false names. We spoke on the phone.
Yes, have a seat.
Yanna paused to slide a childs jacket, ball cap and small sneakers farther along the bench seat that she and Gromov took.
How was your trip-from Canada, wasnt it?
Uneventful, Gromov said. Thank you for agreeing to help us. You were highly recommended.
So were you. Maddick offered the beginnings of a bitter smile. I was advised rather strongly that I should help you.
Good. You have the information?
Maddick lifted the corner of the folded sports section of the newspaper, showing a glimpse of a large plain brown envelope.
Its all there.
Thank you. Gromov nodded to Yanna. We brought you a box of your favorite chocolates.
Yanna passed a small cardboard chocolate box to Maddick. He peeked inside. It held five thousand dollars in unmarked fifties and twenties.
Ill enjoy these, thank you. Ill give you some additional background on the information. Would you like to get a coffee first?
Maddick, Gromov and Yanna looked like any other group of suburbanites socializing at a childrens birthday party. Only the subject was the Texas justice system and Maddick gave them a primer.
Are you familiar with prisons, Sergei?
No, I know very little of prisons.
Yanna looked away so her face would not betray his lie.
Maddick said that there were some 150,000 offenders in over one hundred fifty prisons, jails and other facilities in Texas, and if needed, he could help get information on just about anything.
For now, I am interested in locating Mason Varno, Gromov said.
Before he was paroled, Maddick said, Mason Varno completed a five-year sentence at Hightower Unit for robbery. The prison was near Dayton, northeast of Houston. The unit housed about 1,400 prisoners, give or take. Like prisons everywhere, the institution had its challenges with gangs, beatings and other issues. While Varno was inside, he took part in various programs and also sought the help of the Fellowship of the Good Thief Society, a faith-based support group.
He kept to himself and managed to stay out of trouble, Maddick said. However, I was able to find out that he associated with four prisoners, and maybe not always on the best of terms, but there were four.
Maddicks intel indicated that among Varnos circle, there was talk of plans for various enterprises on the outside and that Varno feared retribution on the inside for a disastrous drug deal prior to his incarceration.
By the sounds of things, you would think he wouldve been almost happy to be inside, or so it seems, Maddick said.
By the sounds of things, you would think he wouldve been almost happy to be inside, or so it seems, Maddick said.
Where are these four associates? Gromov asked.
Two are still in prison. One died in a workshop accident. Only one has been paroled. All of their information is in the envelope.
Gromov began opening it.
Now, while it would be a parole violation for the inmates to associate with each other while on parole, we all know rules are broken every day. Maddick smiled.
Gromov looked at the first page of records. The ex-cons name: Lamont Harley Faulk.
A little warning about Faulk, Maddick said. Youll see hes serving time for aggravated assault. In prison he was legendary for knowing everything about everyone. He was drawn to white supremacist gangs. He once put out a mans eye with his thumb, bit off one of his ears and ate it, then used a nail gun to leave him crucifixion-style against the wall of a barn. This was after a fit of road rage. The man cut Faulk off. Faulk confronted him at a red light, hauled him away to the barn where he nearly killed him. Faulks not quite right upstairs. Hes got a temper. He hates most living things, but apparently keeps his word. Hes pathological about that. Its all there in his psych reports.
Gromov studied Faulks records.
I dont know how youd persuade him to tell you anything about Mason Varno, Maddick said, nodding to Yanna. Oh, could you please pass me my grandsons things on the seat there? Im afraid its time for us to leave.
Yanna passed him the small sneakers, jacket and ball cap.
Thanks and good luck, Maddick said.
After Maddick left, Yanna moved to the seat across from Gromov.
She sipped her tea while he slipped on his bifocals to study the documents more closely. She thought it a strange juxtaposition how this powerful Russian mobster, no doubt a murderer himself, was sitting here amid the laughter of American children, preparing to hunt down a violent psychopath.
41
Garland, Texas
A lush grove of oak trees gave Remy and Mason cool sanctuary at the edge of the I-30 truck stop southwest of Garland.
They were nearly out of sight, sitting back in the shade on the soft grass. The baby was content lying on their blanket. Remy had just fed him and was engrossed in the news reports she was reading on her laptop. Mason was studying a new map that hed folded precisely. Take-out wrappers, drink cups and grease-stained bags dotted the blanket.
Theyd been driving across the Metroplex for the past few hours.
Their pickup truck was the only vehicle at the far end of the lot. To anyone who saw them, they were a young family enjoying a private picnic.
The hum of freeway traffic rushing along the causeway over Lake Ray Hubbard was punctuated by the growl and grind of rigs wheeling in an out of the Exxon station. Remy lifted her face to the ensuing breezes. It calmed her and she paused, allowing herself to believe that she and Mason were really on their way now. They were really closer to their dream. She reached for Caleb to stroke his cheek lovingly. But touching him underscored her aching emptiness, her overwhelming sadness over the baby shed lost and all that shed been through.
Remy battled her painful maternal feelings as she gazed at Caleb.
Your mother does not deserve you. No one deserves you more than me. I saved you. It was all meant to be. Youre MY angel.
Yes, its all meant to be.
Just like it was with Mason, the way he knew, absolutely knew that we had to get out of the motel at the right time. Thank God he talked some sense into me. I was not thinking right when I walked to the park. He was so smart to get us out of our motel before the police found us.
Remy went back to the news stories about the SWAT action at the Tumbleweed Motel. It was such a close call. Still, she didnt think that the police sketches accompanying the reports looked much like her and Mason. Hed let his beard grow, wore sunglasses and long sleeves to cover his tattoos. She touched her short dark hair while considering other ways to ensure that she didnt resemble the wanted woman in the sketches in any way.
Remy found a new story by the Associated Press, which reported that the FBI was still relying heavily on the publics help in the tornado baby case. Agents had little information on the two people using the aliases of Luke and Ashley Johnson of Houston. Remy knew that Mason had changed their plate again after theyd pulled away from the motel. Hed been careful, even lining up a place for them to go and, judging by everything that shed read, she and Mason still had an advantage.
We were lucky to get out of the motel when we did. It was a good call, babe, Remy said.
Damn straight, it was. Mason lifted his attention from the map, but when he saw her caressing the baby his jaw tensed. Stop that, he said.
Stop what?
Mason slapped Remys hand away from Caleb.
Hey! she said.
Youre not keeping him, so dont get attached.
Dont you ever, ever hit me! Remys breathing quickened as she glared at Mason. Since theyd left the motel, he was tense, irritable and sweating, which signaled that he needed his drugs. She hated it when he got that way. She glanced at the bulge in the blanket near him where hed put his gun. She also hated it when he carried that thing around.
He stared at her for a long, cool, moment.
Were under a lot of pressure, he said. Once we get to my friends place well be totally off the grid. Thats when well call the agency, close this deal, get our money and be gone. I know a guy wholl help us get new identities, good ones with social security, passports, everything. Well freakin disappear. Mason looked at his cell phone on the blanket next to his soda then pursed his lips. Lamont better damn well give up the location. I gave that mother a lot of money.
Mason glanced around at the tractor trailers and rubbed his lips.
I dont know how much longer we can keep this up, he said. Sooner or later theyll get on to us, and if your agency in Chicago finds out, theres no way theyll take the kid. Weve got to get off the grid to keep the heat off.
I dont think those drawings look like us. Remy was working on her laptop. Besides, I thought of something I can do to help. Its a bit risky but if you keep your cool, you can pull it off.
She turned her screen to him and he approved of what he saw.