would really help me, and Dr. Ivanovsky shouldn’t mind. You’ll be doing work I otherwise would do, and you’ll be doing it at half my rate. Also, I could boss you around, which would be fun.”
Noelle smiled and arched her eyebrows. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? Actually, I like your idea. It’ll mean more revenue, which we can always use. Besides, if you’re going to be working late every night, I might as well do something useful to stay busy. I’ve been getting a little sick of doing reconciliations or bookkeeping for half the day and being bored the other half.”
Later that afternoon, Ben struck gold. A former colleague gave him a lead on a private investigator, and now he was sitting across the conference-room table from a former FBI agent named Sergei Spassky. The private eye was about six foot two and had a lean, sinewy build that looked almost skinny if he stooped his shoulders. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that hid his dark, quick eyes and made him look more scholarly than streetwise. His short flattop haircut and open face also looked a little out of place for an experienced special agent—which Ben guessed was at least partially intentional.
Spassky’s resume was impressive. He had received several commendations from the Bureau and had been the lead agent on several high-profile cases. His references—two of whom Ben knew personally and respected—spoke quite highly of him. He had only recently left the FBI to start his own agency, and his rates were well within the budget Ben and Dr. Ivanovsky had discussed. He seemed like a good candidate.
“Sure I know Elena Kamenev,” Spassky said in response to Ben’s question. “She and I never worked together, but she had a reputation as a good agent. She’s a great shot. Two years ago she beat me out for the Chicago shotgun-marksmanship title. She’s also a SWAT-certified sniper.”
“But I see you beat her in the handgun category,” Ben replied, looking at the man’s resume. “What’s this ‘Possible Club’ you’re a member of?”
“That means I got a perfect score on the handgun range at the FBI National Academy.”
“Pretty impressive,” said Ben. “Hopefully that’s not a skill you’ll need on this case. How many investigations did you handle involving Russian immigrants?”
“At least two dozen. There weren’t too many of us who could speak Russian without an accent, so we tended to get a lot of Russian crime cases.”
“You don’t have an accent in English either,” observed Ben. “How did you manage that?”
“I was born and raised in America, but my parents came over from Russia in the sixties and we always spoke Russian at home.”
Ben checked the language item off his list. “Ever hear of Nikolai Zinoviev?”
“No.”
“How about Dr. Mikhail Ivanovsky?”
“No.”
Ben looked over his resume again and decided to hire him. “Congratulations, Sergei. We’re going with your agency for this investigation. Dr. Ivanovsky will be your employer on this case, and Mr. Zinoviev is the target of your investigation.” Ben went on to briefly explain the case. “Any questions?”
Spassky shook his head. “The case seems pretty straightforward. You want me to do a background check on Zinoviev, right? Pull his criminal record, credit reports, that kind of thing?”
“Right. I’d also like you to try to identify Zinoviev’s new buyers and those guys in the back of the courtroom. We’ll need to hit them with subpoenas in the next few days.”
The detective jotted down some notes. “What did they look like?”
Ben stared at the table for a few seconds, trying to remember. “One was a big guy with a scar on his forehead. The other one was about average height, maybe five ten. The big one had black hair and looked like he was around forty. The other one had gray hair and looked ten or fifteen years older. Their names were Anton and Josef, but I don’t know which was which.”
“How
Noelle smiled and arched her eyebrows. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? Actually, I like your idea. It’ll mean more revenue, which we can always use. Besides, if you’re going to be working late every night, I might as well do something useful to stay busy. I’ve been getting a little sick of doing reconciliations or bookkeeping for half the day and being bored the other half.”
Later that afternoon, Ben struck gold. A former colleague gave him a lead on a private investigator, and now he was sitting across the conference-room table from a former FBI agent named Sergei Spassky. The private eye was about six foot two and had a lean, sinewy build that looked almost skinny if he stooped his shoulders. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that hid his dark, quick eyes and made him look more scholarly than streetwise. His short flattop haircut and open face also looked a little out of place for an experienced special agent—which Ben guessed was at least partially intentional.
Spassky’s resume was impressive. He had received several commendations from the Bureau and had been the lead agent on several high-profile cases. His references—two of whom Ben knew personally and respected—spoke quite highly of him. He had only recently left the FBI to start his own agency, and his rates were well within the budget Ben and Dr. Ivanovsky had discussed. He seemed like a good candidate.
“Sure I know Elena Kamenev,” Spassky said in response to Ben’s question. “She and I never worked together, but she had a reputation as a good agent. She’s a great shot. Two years ago she beat me out for the Chicago shotgun-marksmanship title. She’s also a SWAT-certified sniper.”
“But I see you beat her in the handgun category,” Ben replied, looking at the man’s resume. “What’s this ‘Possible Club’ you’re a member of?”
“That means I got a perfect score on the handgun range at the FBI National Academy.”
“Pretty impressive,” said Ben. “Hopefully that’s not a skill you’ll need on this case. How many investigations did you handle involving Russian immigrants?”
“At least two dozen. There weren’t too many of us who could speak Russian without an accent, so we tended to get a lot of Russian crime cases.”
“You don’t have an accent in English either,” observed Ben. “How did you manage that?”
“I was born and raised in America, but my parents came over from Russia in the sixties and we always spoke Russian at home.”
Ben checked the language item off his list. “Ever hear of Nikolai Zinoviev?”
“No.”
“How about Dr. Mikhail Ivanovsky?”
“No.”
Ben looked over his resume again and decided to hire him. “Congratulations, Sergei. We’re going with your agency for this investigation. Dr. Ivanovsky will be your employer on this case, and Mr. Zinoviev is the target of your investigation.” Ben went on to briefly explain the case. “Any questions?”
Spassky shook his head. “The case seems pretty straightforward. You want me to do a background check on Zinoviev, right? Pull his criminal record, credit reports, that kind of thing?”
“Right. I’d also like you to try to identify Zinoviev’s new buyers and those guys in the back of the courtroom. We’ll need to hit them with subpoenas in the next few days.”
The detective jotted down some notes. “What did they look like?”
Ben stared at the table for a few seconds, trying to remember. “One was a big guy with a scar on his forehead. The other one was about average height, maybe five ten. The big one had black hair and looked like he was around forty. The other one had gray hair and looked ten or fifteen years older. Their names were Anton and Josef, but I don’t know which was which.”
“How
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