 
EAI Headquarters, East 48th Street - Monday Afternoon Louis Bourger's secretary buzzed him on the intercom. "It's your daughter, Caroline, Mr. Bourger. She is most insistent that she speak with you now." Bourger picked up the blinking line. "What is it, Caroline?" he asked. "I heard a report on the news that a car registered to William Darcy was involved in an accident on 17th Street," she said. "I called his house but got no answer. Did you hear about it?" "No. Where did you hear this?" "On NY-1, about two hours ago." "Did they say whether anyone had been hurt?" "No. That's why I called you." "It was probably nothing, Caroline. But I'm surely not listed as his next-of-kin, so I doubt anyone would call me about this. But let me know if you hear anything." Bourger disconnected the call and then looked at his watch. He had a call to make, but decided to wait.
Rutherford Place Almost as soon as Edward had left, Mary had stood up and announced that she was going upstairs to check on Georgiana and Abby Richards, leaving William and Elizabeth by themselves. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," Darcy said, once Mary was gone. "I truly have no idea what's going on here but I'm very sorry that you and your sister have gotten caught up in it." Elizabeth got up and walked over to one of the room's bookcases, idly running her fingers across the spines of a dozen books. Then she turned around around and looked at her host. "I had this image of Mary... She's really my only family at this point. The thought of losing her... " Her voice trailed off. "Believe me, I understand." "Of course you do. I realize that it was likely your sister they were trying to kill, not mine." Darcy nodded but did not reply. Elizabeth was suddenly seized by a desire to comfort him. She joined him on the sofa and took hold of his hand. "Do you have any idea who may have done this?" she asked. His pain was evident on his face. "That's almost the worst of it. I have no idea why someone would want to murder her. Attacking me would be understandable. There are a number of people who hate EAI and I now own it. My little sister? I cannot fathom it." Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. "Hopefully, Edward will learn something quickly," she said. "I'm counting on that."
One Police Plaza: ATTF Headquarters Harold Carter sat at a desk with a sketch-pad in front of him, holding a charcoal pencil. He stared at the pad for a few seconds, then looked up at the detective sharing the room with him. "I think that's about as close as I'm going to get," he said, offering her the pad. "Okay, let me fix and scan it. Then we'll see what we get." The detective, whose name was Velez, grabbed a can of acrylic fixative and sprayed it over the charcoal sketch. While she was waiting for it to dry, she launched a facial identification application on her computer and called up a template for a new project. "Okay, Mr. Carter. Hair color?" she asked. "Blond. Pretty light. Less than white." She called up a menu that displayed six samples of blond hair. "Any of these close?" Carter looked at the screen. "Number four is closest," he decided. "A little bit darker." The woman tapped a few keys and a new set appeared. "Number two's close enough." "Eyes?" "I'm not a hundred percent sure. But they weren't dark. Maybe hazel. Maybe green." "Skin tone?" "White. Real white, looked like he would burn easy in the sun." Velez nodded and added the information. Then she checked the sketch, which was dry enough to run through the scanner. "Would you like some coffee, sir? This might take several minutes to process." "Sure. Dough-nuts too?" The detective laughed. "We're a health conscious unit, Mr. Carter. No pastries. But we do have fruit and yogurt." "I'll pass." Thirty minutes later, Edward Fitzwilliam walked into Detective Velez's office. "What do we have, Carmen?" "Two probables." Edward frowned. "Two probables?" he asked. Velez smiled, briefly enjoying the moment. She knew that he was thinking about a line-up problem. "Believe it or not, they're freaking identical twins," she said. "I thought our database had gone on the fritz when the two photos popped up. Sergei and Sasha Malikov, known associates of Victor Kanetsky. LKA for one is Little Odessa.(1) Sasha's been enjoying the nutri-loaf at Green Haven for a few years now. I printed out their sheets." "They give new meaning to the terrible twos. Any pyrotechnics in their past?" "No. Both sound like muscle. Aggravated assaults, etc. The one is up on a felony assault rap from 2006." "How sure are you, Mr. Carter?" Edward turned to their witness. "Ninety-nine. If I heard him, I'd be a hundred percent certain." "Good. We'll make that happen." "Now I think you owe me an explanation, Inspector. I'm getting worried about Bonnie's boy, sitting here hearing about this man." "That was the deal," Edward agreed. "Come to my office." When they got there, Edward quickly glanced through Sergei Malikov's police record. He then called one of his subordinates and instructed him to have two of the ATTF officers quartered at Brooklyn South pick up Sergei Malikov in Brighton Beach at their earliest convenience, and provide him with a chauffeured ride to lower Manhattan. He also asked him to confirm that the other twin was actually still incarcerated by the State of New York and determine if there was anything that State Corrections knew that could be of use to them.
Then he leaned back in his chair and told Harold Carter what had actually happened to his grandson. The color drained from the elderly man's face but to Edward's relief, he soon got a hold of himself, and started asking him questions, beginning with Martin's current safety.
Stuyvesant Square Caroline Bourger had just decided to pay a call on the Darcy town house when the lobby intercom signaled. She answered it and then sighed, telling the concierge to send her visitor upstairs. Her sister walked into the apartment a few minutes later. Anne glanced around the living room. "Did you buy this furniture? It's very boring," she said, as she walked to the window and looked outside. "You have a very small park here." "The furniture came with the apartment and you know that I never go to parks, so I don't care about that," Caroline replied. "What are you doing here?" "I was around. I decided to see what the place looked like." "I was just about to go out." "To where?" "I was going to visit William." Anne rolled her eyes. "That horse left the barn years ago, Carolina-Darcy-always-on-my-mind-a. If you didn't know it before, Saturday should have proved that to you. And with what he's doing to daddy, I can't see why you are still pining for him." Caroline ignored her reply and the mocking singsong that she had given up hoping that Anne would ever abandon. "There was a report on the news several hours ago, that a car registered to William Everett Darcy was involved in a crash. He didn't answer his phone so I wanted to check if he was okay." "How would they know it was his car?" "I don't know. Maybe from the license plates." "Were they hurt?" "That's what I'm trying to find out! The news didn't say." "Too bad." "So anyway, I have to go. You can have the tour another day." With that, Caroline picked up her purse and then went to the door. "Come on, Anne. I'm not leaving you here alone." The two sisters road the elevator downstairs in silence. When the walked out of the building, to Caroline's annoyance, her sister stayed with her. "Where was the accident?" Anne suddenly asked. "Right up the block." As they approached the hotel, they could see a man clearing some debris from the sidewalk in front of it. After watching him for a moment, Caroline turned towards Darcy's building. Anne remained where she was, staring at the damaged scaffolding, which appeared to have been temporarily shored up with several wooden beams. A few minutes later, Caroline returned to find her sister still in the same place, talking to a young man in a what looked like a bellhop uniform. He turned and walked back into the building right before she reached them. "Did he know what happened?" she asked Anne. "Yeah. He saw the whole thing. The car crashed into the scaffolding. Part of the scaffolding then flew into a van behind the car and caused it to crash as well." "Was anyone hurt?" "Killed." Anne laughed at the look on her sister's face. "Cheer up. It was the guy driving the van. The windshield shattered and a piece hit his neck, turning him into a blood fountain." "Bitch. You enjoyed that, didn't you?" Caroline hissed. "Was anyone else hurt? Was William in the car?" "They took someone away in an ambulance, the driver, he said. That was it. Why are you back already?" "No one was home," she said. "Perhaps they just didn't let you in," Anne smirked. "They could be in there right now, screwing. She probably has those $50,000 earrings on and nothing else. Not bad for a few hours work." "Bye, Anne." Caroline turned and walked back down the block, before she gave in to the urge to slap her sister across the mouth. When she got to the corner, she looked back to see if Anne was following her. To her relief, she was not. Muttering several imprecations to herself, she returned to her apartment, after first stopping to inform the concierge that she was not home to any more visitors that day.
Rutherford Place "Thank God that I had that video surveillance installed a few years back." Elizabeth laughed, grateful for the excuse to do so. "You predicted that she would show up here today. You know your cousin well." "You have no idea," Darcy groaned. "I believe that staying periodically in the same home as Caroline Bourger was my penance for all my sins, past and present and future lives included." "You're lucky that she never appeared in your bedroom uninvited." "Actually, she tried that once. Fortunately, I had stayed up reading and was fully clothed, so I was able to preserve my reputation. Any time that I stayed there after that, I locked the door to my room at night." He started laughing. "I even put a bolt on the inside of the door, in case she got the key from the housekeeper. Edward tried to convince me to wire the room with a sound recorder, in case I needed evidence, but I didn't go that far!" Darcy and Elizabeth had been talking for over several hours. Their initial interaction had been hesitant but eventually they had both relaxed, at least to the degree possible under the circumstances. Mary had remained upstairs and as far as they knew, Georgiana was still asleep. As the time grew later, Darcy was beginning to grow impatient with the lack of contact from his cousin. He was about to put in a call to him when his phone rang. "Edward. Have you found them?" "Whoever is behind this? No. I'm not actually clairvoyant. But thanks to Mr. Carter, we found the mutt who was snooping around Bellevue Trauma. A couple of our guys picked him up, enjoying a blini on the boardwalk. They offered him a free ride to my place. I haven't talked to him yet." "Who is he?" Darcy asked. "His sheet reads like a low-level enforcer. But Carter is 100% certain that he's the guy. He picked him out of a line up already. I doubt he'll know much of anything but it's a start. I have nothing to hold him on but he's got a brother unhappily incarcerated at Green Haven right now, which might give me some leverage." "Blood thicker than threats from his mob boss? Good luck," Darcy said. "Normally, I'd agree with you but in this case, it's his identical twin. He somehow landed at one of the only state prisons with no Russian pals to play with. Between the Ozone Park boys, the brothers and the Hitler 88 idiots, he's very lonely. And no one has his back," Edward replied.(2) "The Aryan Nation types don't recruit the Russians? Don't tell me they actually have some sort of sense of history." Edward laughed. "More likely, the Russians think that they're a bunch of morons. They have limited patience for politics. They usually keep their eyes on the prize." "Okay. Now what about Georgiana? Have you come up with a plan for her? I'm still at a loss as to what we should do." "There I was a bit more successful. I gave Helen a call. I don't know if you'll recall that her parents have a house down the shore, as they would say across the river. Actually, it's a little further south of that, in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. The Doyles retired down there a few years ago. They'd be happy to have her. We can easily fly her down there from Teterboro.(3) It's a nice house. Her mother has a piano, which Helen assures me is a rather decent one." "Would she be safe?" "I also gave Mike Adderley a call. She'll be safe. He'll see to it. The place is on the beach, which limits clandestine approaches to it. But if they have to set up a bivouac around the house, they'll do that. And I can't see anyone making the connection to Helen's family too easily." Darcy had never met Mike Adderley but he had met the man's business partner, Ty Sutton. Both were ex-U.S. Special Forces who had opened a security company of sorts after they had retired from the military. He wasn't exactly sure what their relationship with his Edward stemmed from, but Sutton had implied that they were permanently indebted to him. "Let me talk to her. I know that she's met Helen's parents but she might not be comfortable going down there alone." "You could send Abby with her." "And what would I do?" "Come stay with me. I'd rather have you out of there anyway, until we know what's going on. Ray's ready to park a squad car in front of your house. I've had him hold off given how much that would thrill your neighbors." "Thanks. But I'm also worried about Elizabeth and Mary." "They can stay with me as well. I'd already planned on Mary doing so." "Elizabeth has two cats. Russian Blues." At that point, Elizabeth herself, who had been closely following one half of the conversation, looked at Darcy rather strangely. He held up his hand, hoping to forestall any questions from her until he got off of the phone call. "I see it's my week for Russians," Edward said. "I like cats. As long as they don't pee on one of my computer monitors, they can do whatever they want." "Let me talk to all concerned." "Okay. Oh, if we decide to do any of this, can you give the padres next door a call? I wouldn't mind you moving out the back way." The backyard of Darcy's building adjoined a small open area behind the neighboring church, which in turn connected to the parish building on 16th Street. There was a wooden fence between the two yards, with a door which was locked on both sides. "I'll call Father Matthew. I doubt they'll mind." "Good. Let me go speak to this putz. I'll probably come straight up to you when I'm done with him."
Brighton Beach, Brooklyn Mikhail Yevenenko was sitting in the office in the back of Yevgeny's Gift And Novelty Shop on Brighton Beach Avenue, talking on one of his cellphones, as a B train rumbled by along the street's elevated line. He ended the call just as the sound of the train faded, and cursed to himself. "Rudi, come in here," he barked out in Russian. A few seconds later, a small, feral-looking man appeared in the doorway. He had been minding the dusty counters in the front, in the event of a rare visit by the occasional tourist. "Chto, boss?" Yevenenko summarized the call that he had just received, from the manager of the Black Sea Diner on the boardwalk. Two men in suits had walked into the restaurant twenty minutes earlier and shortly thereafter, had walked out with Sergei Malikov in tow. The restaurant had been busy and the manager had not gotten a good look at the two of them, but he assumed that they were police. "See what you can find out. Lock the store." "Da," Rudi muttered and quickly disappeared. Yevenenko considered calling Victor Kanetsky but decided to wait until he knew something more. He wondered whether Malikov had somehow been involved in their latest contract; Kanetsky may not have given him all of the details. On the other hand, the Malikovs were not adverse to free-lancing. Their last such adventure had resulted in Sasha's last arrest and conviction, a few years earlier. He shook his head. He had told Victor that doing the job was a bad idea. Americans were risky customers for such services, especially rich and naive ones. He had already heard from one of them, screaming at him on the phone, irate that their effort had failed. He did not like being spoken to that way: no one who knew him would dare to do so. Suka, he muttered to himself. He would advise Victor to return a portion of their money and be done with them. Maybe this time he would listen to him.
Notes (1) The Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, NY has been extensively settled by Russian immigrants over the last several decades. Sometimes referred to as "Little Odessa", it is believed that elements of Russian organized crime are headquartered here. Brighton Beach is east of Coney Island and is one of New York City's municipal beaches. (2) Neo-Nazi groups use the number "88" as code for 'Heil Hitler'. It is based on the letter "H" being the eighth in the alphabet. (3) Teterboro is a small airport in New Jersey which handles private/general aviation aircraft.
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