Chapter 23

Juris’ goons had no trouble dumping Frankie. They had chosen a deserted stretch of beach in Jurmala and, once it was dark and no one was around, they had set him free. Frankie had gotten off pretty lightly—that is, he was alive.

He had always been a pretty good liar. He had told his captors everything he knew—even everything he didn’t know. Trying to ingratiate himself, he had invented some stuff. Mrs Zito is staying at the Hotel de Rome. He himself didn’t know this for sure but hoped that it would be enough to stop the inquisition. It had worked. In fact, Frankie had been surprised by how amiable the whole process had been. He shuddered to think about the treatment he would have had to endure from the New Jersey side of the “family.”

Compared to past experiences, this had been a walk in the park. He had been brought to an elegant old house with a high fence and an electric sliding gate, guarded by two monstrous dogs (he couldn’t make out the breed) patrolling the yard. Once escorted inside, Frankie had been made to sit on a stool in the middle of a large room, a man on either side of him. Juris Lapins, the boss man, had positioned himself behind a massive desk.

Juris had gotten up to offer cigarettes all around and Frankie had noted the still-muscular body of this tall and lean old man. Partially bald, he was clean shaven and had a tanned, rugged face with high cheekbones and light colored eyes. Frankie imagined these eyes could tear right through any bullshit and stop any rival in his tracks. He was a born leader. Ex KGB.

Juris fired up a match, lit his cigarette and regarded Frankie through the haze of smoke.

He had a deep husky smoker’s voice and heavily accented English.

“You work for Bernie Zito?”

Surprised that his mouth hadn’t gone dry with fright, Frankie squinted up at the ceiling as if the answer lodged there. He decided on humor. “Ah yes. Bernie Zito. That name does ring a bell. Where have I heard it before?”

A braying noise, supposedly a laugh, escaped from Juris.

“We have a comedian here!”

The goons guarding Frankie joined in with loud boisterous guffaws. The ice had been broken. Tensions eased.

Juris started in gently. He liked to do that. Killing them with kindness. “We’re all on the same team, Frankie. We need to know what happened to a package which was delivered to Mrs Zito.”

Frankie started to fidget. “Look. Sure, I know Bernie. He asked me to keep an eye on his wife. That’s all. I don’t know about any package.”

The fun was over.

“I’ll call your boss and, if you’re lying, we’ll kill you.”

Frankie started and almost fell off his stool. He knew Juris meant business.

It hadn’t seemed to matter what time of day or night it was. Business always trumped sleep or any other activity. Juris had no trouble getting through. Minutes later, he offered Frankie a reprieve.

“Bernie says you’re useless. Tell us where Mrs Zito is and we’ll let you go.”

Frankie did not hesitate. “She’s at the Hotel de Rome. I don’t know the room number but she’s there.”

* * *

Frankie looked up at the stars and at the moon rising over the tall pines. The waves lapped against the beach which looked endless to Frankie. He was glad it wasn’t raining or, worse, snowing. Still, there was a stiff breeze and he hugged himself for warmth as he walked away from where he had been left—discarded.

It was not his first rodeo. Things could have gone differently. He could have been on a beach in New Jersey where he could have barely escaped with his life. This time he hadn’t even been searched. Not even roughed up a bit. But, still, he was older now, less flexible and felt that he couldn’t go on living this sort of life forever.

His adventures (or misadventures) had brought him this far. He was alive for a reason. For a purpose. He didn’t know exactly what that purpose was. All in all, looking back at his life, Frankie could attest to the fact that what hadn’t killed him had truly made him stronger.

He looked up and down the beach as far as he could see. He still had a lingering fear that the goons could come back or that the dogs could track him down and tear him to pieces. The beach remained completely deserted.

He was lucky. He still had his watch, his wallet and his phone. The sea air was bracing and his power walk along the seaside had made him warmer. And had energized him. He wasn’t so old that he couldn’t begin a new life. Start all over. Away from Bernie and his life of crime.

But what had just happened? He had sicced Juris on Mrs Zito. Why had he done that? To save himself, of course but also because he wasn’t sure she was there. Now he prayed that she wasn’t at the Hotel de Rome but somewhere safe.

And what was he going to do about it? He was going to warn her, of course. There were really bad people out there looking for her. It would take more than a clutch of diamonds to keep her safe.

He couldn’t stay on this beach forever. He used a boardwalk to access a road and consulted his phone to see, on GPS, where he was. Next, he called a cab and managed to make himself understood.

His big worry now was how to get to Mrs Zito before the goons could find her. A horrible thought crossed his mind. Maybe they already had.

Frankie couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice as he told the cab driver to go faster. This was an emergency. The driver looked back with a surly mad-at-the-world expression.

“Camera,” he said pointing at the roadside. The guy wasn’t interested in getting a fine or losing his license.

Frankie’s adrenaline shot through him like a bolt of lightning. Faster. Faster. He felt like jumping out of the cab and running all the way to the Hotel de Rome.

He had to save Mrs Zito.