“Do not take Beck lightly.” Kolenka hung up without another word.
Markov felt the sharks circling him. Coming after him and his money. But now he would strike. Capture the woman. She would either tell him where to find Beck, or Beck would come after her. He would be ready this time. And then, once he had his money safe, teach those idiots Milstein and Crane a lesson for allowing this mess to happen.
37
Olivia continued talking to Beck, sitting at the end of the bed, leaning toward him.
“I’ll do whatever I can to make this right, James. I’ll tell Manny the truth about my hand. I’ll do whatever you say.”
Beck shook his head. “No. Do not do that. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee you would survive it.”
Olivia shook her head. “I don’t believe that.”
“I know you don’t. But don’t do it. And don’t argue with me about it.”
She frowned, looking confused, but agreed. “Fine, whatever you say. What can I do?”
“You sure you’ve told me everything you know about Markov.”
“Everything I know.”
“Do you know anything about who his customers are?”
“Just what I told you before. My impression is that Markov does a lot of shipments for this country.”
“Arms?”
“Yes. Obviously, the U.S. does a lot of stuff that’s covert. Someone has to do it. Markov is one of those someones. That’s how Milstein rationalizes handling his account. He says Markov doesn’t do anything the U.S. doesn’t want him to do.”
“Do you know which agency?”
“No.”
“How did Markov get a legitimate brokerage to handle his money?”
“What do you mean?”
“I wouldn’t imagine someone can just hand over a hundred million dollars to you guys without triggering an inquiry.”
“Yes, you’re right. It’s worse than ever since the Patriot Act. But Crane and Markov have worked through it. That’s one of the things Crane is good at. I suspect most of it never entered the U.S. banking system.”
“It’s hidden offshore?”
Olivia shrugged. “All money is hidden to a certain extent. I’m sure Markov and Crane make sure nobody knows where his funds are: competitors, creditors, anybody he doesn’t want knowing his business. It’s only illegal if you’re hiding money to avoid taxes. It’s offshore because it was never onshore. Never earned here.”
“But how does he buy investments in U.S. markets?”
“Tons of ways. And who’s to say it’s all in U.S. markets? I’m sure Crane is trading in markets all over the world. That’s part of how guys like Crane earn their commissions.”
“How’s it work?”
“Same way hundreds of U.S. companies do it. They bundle money in various entities. Keep the assets of that entity or corporation in an offshore bank or brokerage. Invest those assets however they want. And don’t forget, money that goes into those entities is legally earned. Or in ways that look legal. Markov followed the rules enough so he can invest in whatever Crane wants to invest in.”
“The rules. Whose rules?”
“The ones written for people like Markov. And they still bend them as much as they can. Why do you think guys like Crane exist? Why are you asking me all this?”
Beck ignored the question.
“So, beyond Markov, do you know anything about the people Markov is associated with?”
“No.”
“Crane has no clue either? Or Milstein?”
“I imagine Crane knows more than Milstein, but I don’t know that either of them knows as much about them as you seem to. How’d you find out about the war crimes stuff?”
Again, Beck ignored the question.
“Well, I guess you know about criminal types from your time in prison. What was it like?”
“Prison?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not exactly the right question. More to the point would be what was it like going from a fairly normal civilized life out in the world into being locked up, incarcerated. There was no break-in period for me. No reform school, or minimum-security lockup. There was normal life, and then maximum-security hell.”
It was Beck’s turn to gaze out through the flimsy drapes.
“Eight years I breathed that stink. Listened to the din of constant yelling and screaming and carrying on twenty-four-hours a day. Crazy, insane bullshit. The most primitive, inhuman survival behavior imaginable. Trapped in a world of constant maneuvering and conning and conniving. Surrounded by men with pathetic attention spans and zero impulse control, and stupid, dangerous rationalizations.”
Olivia listened to Beck’s speech, perched in front of him at the end of the bed.
“Imagine living with people ready to kill or hurt or maim anybody at any time. Anybody.” Beck snapped his fingers. “Without warning.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
Beck leaned forward in his chair, moving closer to Olivia’s so she couldn’t avoid hearing what he was about to say.
“But those people I’m talking about in prison? They’re run-of-the-mill criminals who live in that world. Sure, they can go off at any moment. They’ll stab you, shoot you, hit you, doesn’t matter. They’ll end up dead or in prison, and either way, it’s pretty much okay with them.
“But these guys Markov is with—they are in a whole other category. They went after whole towns and villages. Women, children, old people. They tried to wipe out entire categories of people.
“And the Russians I was telling you about? My God, they live by a code so ancient and fucked up they don’t even know how to be half-human.”
Beck trailed off for a moment.
Olivia watched him shake his head and sit back in his chair.
“Why are you…?”
Beck interrupted her. “Why am I what?”
“Telling me all this.”
“So you understand how dangerous this is for you. And us. For all of us.”
“If you’re trying to terrify me, you have.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“So you understand.”
“You already told me I can’t.”
“I want you to try.”
Olivia fairly shouted, “Try? I can hardly fucking breathe I’m so scared. What am I supposed to do?”