Undercover Connection, page 7
“She’s just a woman,” Kozak muttered beneath his breath.
Jacob was glad that Jasmine appeared not to have heard the words. “Forgive me, but, Mr. Kozak, you’re a very busy man. This arrangement was made. Yesterday. And at the show, before he was killed, I received promises from Josef Smirnoff.”
“Smirnoff is dead,” Connor said.
“But not forgotten,” Jacob said.
Kozak was, of course, in a tight position. If he hadn’t murdered Josef Smirnoff and was taking over as a natural progression, he had to respect promises made by his predecessor.
“Not forgotten, no. And honored,” Kozak murmured. Jacob had given him an out—and he was glad to see that the man wanted his “business” and was willing to take the out.
Jacob turned to Connor.
“I’m new, but... I understand this. Miss Alamein and I had dinner last night and arranged for a sightseeing tour this evening. I had forgotten to tell Mr. Kozak about my tickets, but I’m afraid that I did specify this...young woman.”
“I can make even better arrangements for you, Mr. Connor,” Kozak said. “You must understand, we are in mourning right now. And in honor of Josef, I must follow through on all his promises.”
“Fine. Call me when you have found a suitable companion,” Connor told Kozak. He was looking at Jacob. Sizing him up. Apparently, he determined that the companionship of a certain woman was not worth a battle. He turned and left without another word.
“So, before you came to me... Josef had promised you this woman,” Kozak said.
Jacob didn’t look at Jasmine. Knowing her as he was coming to know her, he was amazed that she was managing to just sit still.
“When I saw her on the runway,” he said, his voice husky, “I knew I wanted her at that moment. I believe she might have been his last promise.”
“Then I will make no other arrangements. But you must remember, Miss Alamein is in my employ. And she will appear when she is needed.”
“That is understood.”
Kozak walked over to Jasmine. “You will honor this arrangement?” he asked her.
Jasmine stood. In the heels she was wearing, she was eye level with Kozak. She smiled sweetly. “As you wish, Mr. Kozak.”
“Fine,” Kozak said. “Just remember, you work for me,” he added softly.
“Always,” she told him earnestly. Jasmine’s smile deepened. “And thank you, sir. Thank you. Mr. Marensky and I were able to have the most delicious dinner last night. Far more easily than I might have ever imagined!”
Even Kozak seemed caught by her charm. “My pleasure. So, I believe that Natasha wanted to talk with you one more time. And...” he gave his attention back to Jacob “...Miss Alamein will be ready for you tonight, for these tickets you have.”
“I’ll wait and escort her home now,” Jacob said. “Sir, if you have a minute, the present I brought... I believe you will enjoy it immensely. It is Almas, from the beluga sturgeon—supposed to be some of the finest caviar. I must admit, I am not an expert, but I have been assured by those who are that this is delicious.”
“Then you must sit and enjoy it with me,” Kozak said. He waved a hand at Jasmine. “See Natasha, see what she needs from you.”
Jasmine was dismissed. She left the room.
Jacob looked at Kozak. “I thank you for respecting me—and Josef’s memory,” he said. “And I would like to do more.”
“Oh?”
“I am not without certain skills. I would like your permission to look into Josef’s death myself.”
* * *
BREATHING WAS DIFFICULT.
Jasmine’s heart was pounding. She’d been so sure of herself, even in Kozak’s office with the very strange Mr. Connor all but pawing her, that she’d been figuring out ways to handle the situation herself. Alone with the man, she’d have figured out something...
And blown her cover. And all hope of finding out what had happened to Mary.
She hurried down the hall—smiling at Sasha, on duty there now—to the dressing room. Natasha was at one of the tables, studying her face in the mirror.
She looked at Jasmine, and as she did so, Jasmine had to wonder if the woman’s eyes could stretch out of her head, or if she had ears that could extend down a hallway.
Natasha already knew what had happened.
“It’s not good,” she said. “It’s not good at all. One man should not become so possessive.”
Jasmine shrugged. “Does it matter?” she asked. “Does it matter if the money is the same?”
“Ah, child, you’re new to this,” Natasha said.
“Yes, I am. And I am ignorant but willing to learn.”
Natasha seemed pleased with her reply. “He will start to think that he owns you and that he would be better off just spiriting you away somewhere. You must be careful and declare your loyalty to us at all times, do you understand?”
“Yes, Natasha. And I am loyal, I promise you.”
“And,” Natasha added, “you like this Jacob Marensky?”
“He’s clean and he smells good. And he is younger.”
Natasha waved a hand in the air. “Yes, he is clean and young and smells good. And young can be good. Old men, with their hopes and their prayers and their pills... They have no idea how often those they think they control sit there and do nothing but laugh at their faulty efforts.” She shook her head; Jasmine had the feeling she had experienced the worst and earned her way out of it.
“So then, you may have your jeans and your T-shirt. Apparently, Mr. Marensky is a more casual man and you are going on a sightseeing tour.” She shuddered as if a sightseeing tour might be akin to torture.
“Thank you,” Jasmine said. “I must admit, the shoes...the heels are a lot.”
“They make you very tall. Then again, Mr. Marensky is very tall.” She waved a hand in the air. “Josef admired the man. Victor believes that he is an admirable man as well, who understands our business but demands that we respect his. You will, of course, report to me.”
“Yes, I will.”
Jasmine heard voices. A few of the other girls had arrived.
Kari Anderson came into the room, carrying a bundle of clothes. Behind her were Jen Talbot, Renee Dumas and Helen Lee. They were like a palette of beauty—Kari so pale, Jen olive-skinned, Renee almost ebony and Helen extraordinary with her mix of Eurasian features and lustrous long black hair. They were beautiful on a runway.
They had also been hired to please all tastes.
Thus far, though, she hadn’t seen any of the women forced into anything. Just pretty girls with an understanding that they could be paid well for their company. She had sat silently herself as Victor had introduced her to Mr. Connor and informed her that he needed a guide and an escort for the evening. What if she had protested?
Had Mary protested?
“I’ll just grab my things and change and get out of here,” Jasmine said. “And hang these up.”
She fled over to the hangers, finding that her clothing had not been hung—just folded as if with distaste and left on the shelving above the racks. She eased out of the shoes and slid out of the skirt.
Kari walked in. “I’m going to need that skirt, I hear,” she said.
“Oh?” Jasmine handed her the skirt on its hanger and shimmied the blouse over her head.
“I’m going to go see Mr. Connor,” Kari said. She sounded slightly nervous.
“Are you afraid of him?” Jasmine asked in a whisper. “If so—”
“No, no. He’s supposed to be very nice.”
“I thought he was new.”
“No. Mary went out with him. Just dinner. She said he was very nice. Oh, sorry, you didn’t know Mary. She was great, but... I guess this wasn’t for her. Me, I want the runway. And if it means dating a few losers...” Her voice trailed. “Dating,” she repeated drily. “Okay, having sex with a few repulsive specimens... Well, I managed to choose a lot of losers on my own! Might as well have it be worth something in the end, I guess.”
“Kari?” Natasha called.
“Excuse me,” Kari said to Jasmine. “I have to run!”
Jasmine caught her hand. “Kari—please. Will you call me tomorrow and let me know that you’re all right?”
Kari seemed surprised. “Of course, I’ll be all right. But thank you. And I will call you—we can maybe have lunch or something?”
“I’d love to have lunch,” Jasmine assured her. She hesitated. “It’s allowed?”
“Oh, yes. They like us to be friends. Sometimes...”
“Sometimes?”
“Kari!” Natasha called again.
“Later!” Kari told her, and with a swirl of blond hair, she was gone.
* * *
KOZAK HAD OPENED a bottle of his special “very Russian” vodka to go with the caviar. Jacob was careful to pretend to sip as much as the crime tsar but imbibe as little as possible.
His time with the man was proving to be very interesting.
Kozak talked about growing up in Russia—about the KGB coming for his father in the middle of the night.
“That must have been very hard on a child,” Jacob said.
Kozak shrugged. “My father, he was a killer. When it all broke apart, though...everyone was running. The kind of crime was brutal, from all manner of directions. My mother, bless her, got us out. I never understood. Business is business, but...”
He paused and looked hard at Jacob, very sober despite the vodka he had all but inhaled. “You think you can find Josef’s killer?”
Jacob weighed his words carefully. “There have been certain...events in my past that required me to take a closer look at them. I have a talent for uncovering things.” He paused. “You really have no idea who killed him?”
Kozak frowned.
“No disrespect,” Jacob said quickly. “I liked Josef. We did very good business together. But perhaps, something was going on with the group that was dangerous to all.”
“You’re talking about the bodies discovered in the Everglades,” Kozak said. “There is talk of little but that and the shooting on the news these days. We have even ceased to care about politics, eh? When people are scared...”
He paused and shrugged again. “We had nothing to do with those bodies. Not Josef, not me. And I do not know who killed him. Me, I have kept my boys close—Sasha, Antonio and Alejandro. I have played the game, I have become the king. But you are a newcomer. Down here, that is. Josef trusted you. You know how to stand your ground. You tell me—who killed Josef?”
“I don’t know, but as I said, with your permission, I will find out.”
“You have my permission—and my blessing. What else do you need?”
“Permission to speak with your boys. And Ivan and Natasha. Whether wittingly or not, Victor, one of them helped the killers.”
There was a tap at the door.
“It’s me, Mr. Kozak,” Jasmine said in a small voice.
“I will see her home,” Jacob said, rising and heading to the door. “And I will begin tomorrow. I will find the killer, I promise you.”
“Then most definitely, the woman is yours—along with my gratitude,” Kozak told him.
Jacob nodded and opened the door. And capturing Jasmine’s hand, he hurried down the stairs, Jasmine in his wake.
Chapter Six
“I should have gone with him,” Jasmine murmured.
The look Jacob gave her could have turned her to stone. She supposed, in his mind, he had managed not only to save her from a fate worse than death—or actual death, for that matter—but to keep up their undercover guises, as well.
“No, no,” she amended quickly. “You were wonderful, magnificent. I mean, you pulled that off, and normal circumstances—”
“Just wait. Wait until we reach your apartment,” he said. “At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s okay if I come in.”
“Are we being followed?”
“Maybe. You never know.”
She was surprised when he pulled out his phone. He had such a grip on her with his left hand that she could hear the voice of the man he was calling from his phone in his right hand.
“You got her out?” the voice asked.
Jorge.
“Yes.” Jacob glanced her way. “I need tickets, fast. Some kind of sightseeing trip. First available.”
“Call you right back.”
“Tickets?” Jasmine murmured.
“Tickets.”
They were almost to her apartment when the phone rang again. This time, Jorge was speaking more softly.
“Lincoln Road Mall,” Jacob relayed.
“We can walk it,” Jasmine suggested.
“Then keep walking.”
He was angry; she hadn’t had a chance to explain yet what she’d meant about wishing she’d gone with Mr. Connor. And on the street the way they were, unaware of how things might go, despite the stand Jacob had just made, he clearly didn’t want her talking.
His pace was urgent; she had long legs, and she could trek it, but he was moving fast. They were some distance from the club on Washington Street when he finally seemed to slow—perhaps having burned off some of his energy.
She managed to retrieve her hand from his hold and slide an arm through his, drawing herself close and speaking softly, as if she whispered a lover’s words.
“I may have found out how Mary disappeared—and with whom,” she told him.
He turned and frowned at her.
“I finally got a second with Kari. She’s probably going to wind up going off with this man, Connor. Jacob, Mary met with Connor. She met him—and then she disappeared.”
“And you were willing to take that kind of a chance?”
Jasmine swallowed, leaning on his shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for. But I didn’t find out until after you came and got me out of the room. I saw Kari when I went back to get my own clothing. That’s when she told me...and they’re going to send her in to be his escort. Jacob, we have to find a way to follow that man. Maybe Jorge—”
“No, Jorge still has an in. And they’d wonder what he was doing. Let me call my office. They’ll get someone on it.”
He pulled out his phone again. They’d reached Lincoln Road Mall—a pedestrian walkway that offered dozens of shops and restaurants, fun places to dine and enjoy a coffee, a drink, entertainment or an evening.
“It’s a private tour company,” Jacob said, pointing to a spot by the theaters on Alton Road. “They’ll pick us up there.”
He veered in that direction, speaking quickly to someone on the phone and giving them the information they had on Connor. Jacob described him to a T. But Jasmine knew he had little else to go on.
She heard rapid questions in return, and then assurances.
“I believe that’s ours,” Jacob said, pointing to a limo with a sunroof.
The vehicle made a U-turn and pulled to the corner. The driver, a young man in a suit, hopped out and offered them a broad professional smile. “Marensky?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you, Jasmine and Jacob,” Jacob said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“I’m David Hernandez, your guide for the day!” he said cheerfully. “I’m at your disposal. Now, I understand you’re new to the beach, so I’ll give you a few suggestions. My first pick is the Ancient Spanish Monastery, but that’s north on the beach, so...”
“That’s fine,” Jacob said quickly. “Is that okay, honey?” he asked Jasmine, and then he told their guide, “Jasmine knows the place. Me, I’m new.”
“I love the Spanish Monastery!” she said. “But I’m not sure I’d be the best guide.”
David looked at his watch. “Well, if we move, you can have a couple of hours there. Your assistant ordered a driver and guide until midnight, so—”
“We’ll start with the Spanish Monastery,” Jacob said.
They slid into the car. With the beach traffic, it was going to take them a few minutes to reach what Jasmine considered to be one of their most intriguing destinations.
“I grew up here, but not on the beach,” Jasmine told David.
“Cool. I grew up in the city, by the old Flagler Dog Track—Magic City Casino now,” David told them. “People say Miami is young, no history. But we’ve got tons of it. I could go on forever. But—”
“Please, do, go on forever,” Jacob said.
He leaned back in the plush seat of the limo, closing his eyes for a minute. It was the only indication Jasmine had seen that his world could cause him pressure.
He had come in, guns blazing, for her.
She leaned back, as well. She really needed to talk to Captain Lorenzo and give her report. Lorenzo could get cops out after Kari and Connor.
“Of course, South Beach itself is a tourist attraction,” David said. “Did you know that it was the original area that was populated? Believe it or not, the beach started out as farmland. The City of Miami itself incorporated on July 28, 1896. Julia Tuttle, our founding mom, had sent an orange blossom to Henry Flagler, convincing him to bring his railroad down—we were almost always frost free!
“The City of Miami Beach was incorporated on March 26, 1915. Now, Miami Beach is comprised of natural and man-made barrier islands. In 1870, Henry and Charles Lum—father and son, by the way, bought a lot of the bracken, sandy, nothing land that’s worth billions today. There was a station to help shipwreck victims up north of where you’re staying, closer to where we’ll be today. They started off with a coconut plantation, but that didn’t go so well. Enter some rich Yankees, and the beach started developing.
“Collins Avenue is so named because of an entrepreneur called Collins. He mixed up the crops and got things going. Then with Miami up and running, the railroad coming down and Government Cut created, people were on their way to thinking it would make a great resort area. Enter the Lummus family, who were bankers, and Carl C. Fisher from Indianapolis, who worked with the Collins and Pancoast group, and by the beginning of the twentieth century, Miami Beach was on its way.”
