Indigo Slam: An Elvis Cole Novel

Indigo Slam: An Elvis Cole Novel by Robert Crais Page A

Book: Indigo Slam: An Elvis Cole Novel by Robert Crais Read Free Book Online
Authors: Robert Crais
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Retail
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everybody seemed in on it but me. I was seeing bits and pieces of it, and I wasn’t liking what I was seeing, but I knew there was still more to the picture. Maybe it was time to start sulking. Maybe I could phone Charles for a couple of pointers and sulk these guys into submission. Or maybe Jasper would try to put me in the chair and I could get in two or three good shots before half a dozen federal marshals boiled through the door and rode me down. Might be worth it.
    Scully, William P., had stared at me for what seemed like an hour when the door opened and Lemming whispered something in his ear. Scully listened without saying anything, then nodded and the tension seemed somehow lessened. “Hang on for a minute.”
    He patted Jasper’s shoulder and the two of them stepped out with Lemming, but now I was feeling better about things. I was probably thirty seconds away from being thrown into jail, but you always feel better when you tough off to a guy.
    Three minutes later Scully and Jasper came back without Lemming. Jasper had a nine-by-twelve manila folder and Scully had two Styrofoam cups of coffee and a baggie filled with fresh ice. Scully tossed me the ice, then put one of the cups by me on the table. He sipped from the other. “We came on too strong and that was a mistake.” He gestured at the envelope. “The office down in LA faxed up some information on you. You seem like a square guy, Cole, so let’s take a step back and start again.”
    “I’m listening.” I put the ice where the Glock had bitten me.
    Scully said, “Andrei Markov is looking for Clark Hewitt to kill him. We’re looking for Clark to protect him. That’s the difference between us and Markov.”
    I looked at him without responding. The tough detective refusing to cut them any slack. Or maybe I was just the sulky detective. “Don’t tell me: Clark Hewitt used to be involved with Markov, but he turned state’s evidence, and now he’s in witness protection.”
    Jasper smiled, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “What else do you know?”
    “I don’t know any of it, Jasper, but I’m a hell of a guesser. Markov wants Hewitt, and so do you. You aren’t the cops or the Treasury or the FBI. You guys are U.S. Marshals, and the marshals oversee the federal witness protection program.” I moved the ice to my ear and leaned back. “And since you guys don’t seem to know Clark’s location, that means you’ve lost him.”
    Reed Jasper frowned. “We didn’t lose him, goddamnit. He left. You don’t have to stay in the program once you’re in. You can leave any damn time you want.”
    Scully said, “Did Markov have any idea as to Clark’s location or current identity?”
    “Nope. That’s what he wanted from me.”
    “How’d he pick you up?”
    “They had someone on Rachel Hewitt’s grave.”
    Scully whistled. “Jesus Christ, three years and they’re still on that place.” He shook his head. “When that Russian swears an oath, he means it.”
    I said, “Who’s Markov?”
    Jasper said, “Markov is a big macher in the Ukrainian mob. He came over here a few years ago with his brother, Vasily. Vasily was the boss. They set up shop and began expanding the business, and one of these new ventures was printing counterfeit dollars to ship back home and sell on the Ukrainian black market.”
    I nodded. Clark the printer. Clark the artist. “Clark was a counterfeiter.”
    Scully said, “Yeah.”
    “So what happened between Clark and Markov?”
    “Vasily thought Clark was skimming his print and laying it off on a couple of locals. Clark got word that Vasily was planning to bump him off, and came to us for help.”
    “He turned state’s evidence to buy into the program.”
    “Didn’t have a lot of choice. The Markovs never made a threat they didn’t carry out.”
    “Was Clark skimming?”
    Jasper shrugged. “Who knows? Because of Clark, Vasily’s doing twelve to twenty on Mercer Island, and Andrei swore he’d spend the

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