The Upside of Death

Return to Chicago. Part 31

The doctor says you need another twenty-four hours of observation," Hancock said, firm, unequivocal, Zach nodding in agreement. "Your father expects—"

"My father is not the ruler of my life," she snapped back.

"Our instructions, Miss Miles, include ensuring you have the best medical treatment available. The doctor advises further observation."

"You came very close to suffering heat stroke, Miss Miles," the doctor added. "You could have suffered serious damage to your organs. It's wise to wait another day."

She looked to Zach for support but he gave her his best noncommittal look in return, and she gave up. "Okay, okay," she said, glinting at him. "But tomorrow's Monday, I have a class. Get me a phone so I can call in and cancel."

Zach handed her his cell and took it back when she finished. "I got calls to make myself," he said. "Boring reporter stuff, I'll deal with it in my room. Back soon."

An extra day in Flagstaff was a bonus, an extra day of safety. Also gave him time to see what he could dig up about Vronsky. Maybe give the Russian new problems, more important problems than he one he thought he had.

He called a colleague in Chicago, a one-time staffer on a Russian language newspaper. "Vlad, it's Zach. Can you help me out with something urgent?"

"Does it include beer and whiskey?"

"It will do when I return."

"What's your problem?"

Zach gave him the names of the three Russians and sketchy descriptions. "They're nasty types. You know any of them?"

"Can't say so," Vlad replied. "The real nasty ones live in New York. Try Gennardy Sidirov. He's a freelancer for the Russian press, specializes in crime stuff. More than that, he acts like the mafia press office. They give him a lot of access and he portrays them as family loving, charity-supporting guys. Make that a top shelf whiskey."

Sidirov was warm and sociable. "I'm not a fucking information bureau," he growled when Zach called with the three names. "Dig up your own stories."

"This isn't a story. I'm trying to help out a friend here. You're the one who's going to get the story."

Sidirov relaxed half a muscle. "What kind of story?"

"One of them has shafted the other."

"And?"

"Yuri Buteyko is now in jail on a murder charge."

Silence. "This could be of interest," Sidirov said. "Where is he? Who put him there?"

"He's in Flagstaff. The Vronsky guy, called the cops down on him."

"You sure? Is this a tip you're passing on or have you firsthand information?"

Sidirov was acting like a half decent reporter now, pressing his source to prove credibility. "The sheriff's office has a recording of Vronsky calling them to Buteyko's room," Zach said. "His lawyers can demand to hear it."

More silence. "How well do you know this Vronsky? Does he have top personal security?"

What was Sidirov asking? Is Vronsky easy to kill? Jesus. All he had wanted was some information and without warning he was being sucked into a possible murder conspiracy. He hadn't thought it all through before he made the call.

"Maybe there's no story," he said. "Maybe I should check it out more."

"You already gave me plenty," Sidirov said. "Others will check it out further."