Tryzub

Chapter OneSabrina Brooks and Hoyt Wexford had reserved their favorite table at Keens Steakhouse on West 36th Street in Manhattan that Friday evening. They had dressed well for the occasion and caught the eye of more than one customer who thought they might have been a celebrity couple. Bree and Hoyt ordered a lobster salad and decided to split the steak and lobster entrée along with a bottle of blush wine. After the waiter brought the wine, Bree was reduced to tears when Hoyt placed the small velvet box on the table. “I love you more than anyone else in my life,” Hoyt gazed into her eyes as she looked up after staring dumbfounded at the $10,000 two-carat three-stone diamond ring set in 14K white gold. She knew that, on a NYPD detective's salary, this was not a small investment on his part. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know we've both had a lot on our plates lately with our careers and all, but that'd be a great reason to have someone to share our burdens with.” “Was that supposed to be a speech?” a tear trickled down her cheek. “You know I'm not good at speeches.” “You're wonderful at everything you do. You've made me the happiest girl in the world.” “I'm gonna take that as a yes.” “You mean you're not getting down on one knee and everything?” Hoyt rose from his seat just before Bree hopped out of her chair and threw herself into his arms. The diners in the high-class restaurant looked up in bemusement, and she showed them her ring to a round of applause. She hugged him again before they finally took their seats. “Omigosh, I'm so excited I won't be able to eat,” she waved her hand at her face. “Don't you even go there,” his dark blue eyes sparkled as he smiled mischievously, his thick black mane framing his ruggedly handsome face. “With the prices in this place, I'll sit over there and spoon-feed you.” “That sounds like a plan,” she giggled. It had been almost a year since he gave her his friendship ring, and things were as hectic in their professional lives as ever. The Brooks Chemical Company had thrived and prospered since Sabrina took control of her father's enterprise. They had made enough money for her to open up a second research facility in the Sheepshead Bay area of Brooklyn. It was a half hour drive from their headquarters on Staten Island, allowing her and BCC vice-president Jon Aeppli to conveniently travel between locations. Yet they were experiencing the expected growing pains and Sabrina was working seven days a week to keep things running smoothly. Hoyt had earned his detective's badge during Operation Octagon in playing a key role in ending the terrorist threat to NYC. He was next assigned to the Organized Crime Unit at Police Plaza in Manhattan where he became part of a twelve-man task force. It was a six-team crew assigned to investigate the growing influence of the Russian Mob in the metro. They were working in conjunction with the Russian Federation's Federal Security Service, the successors to the KGB. It tied Hoyt up in more red tape than ever, and the bureaucratic restrictions grew ever more frustrating as he struggled to overcome the challenges of his new position. Sabrina's Nightcrawling career seemed to have come to an end. After escaping her war against the Octagon with her life, she concurred with Hoyt and Jon that her vigilante days had come to an end. Sometimes she recounted the events of the previous Fourth of July and broke into a cold sweat, realizing just how lucky she was to be alive. She had saved the City from a catastrophic attack, and reconciled herself to the fact she had made the contribution of a lifetime in realizing her law enforcement dream. She would let Hoyt bear the standard for both of them from now on. Next to her father Vern, Hoyt was the strongest man she had ever known. She owed him her support, and would not be the cause of any more concern than he faced on the field protecting and serving the citizens of New York. She had been learning how to cook, and was not too bad at keeping the family mansion clean. She was sure she would make a good wife, and would look forward to the big day. She decided to keep the latest news about recent developments at BCC under wraps for now. She and Jon were elated to learn that they were on a very short list of possible researchers in conjunction with the Government's HALT-116 Project. The Russian Federation had announced they were in the late stages of developing a miracle cure for the AIDS/HIV virus. They requested the assistance of the United States in completing the project and distributing the product worldwide. BCC had been contracted by the military years ago and already had a foot in the door. Sabrina's successes in expanding the Company had become a major factor as well. Her only concern was the assignment of a Russian research scientist to BCC in collaborating in the project. The FDA authorities made it clear that the final product would have to meet with their approval as well as that of the Russian government. She would have to be giving the representative considerable access to BCC facilities and be working closely with them for the duration. The BCC staff was a tight-knit family and would certainly resent the intrusion. Yet the success of the project would earn BCC a place in history and establish her father's legacy forever. She would do whatever it took to make it happen. Little did she expect that she would face the test of a lifetime in the weeks ahead. Benigno Terrazas had done business with Vern Brooks for over a decade. The owner of Superfecta Manufacturing Co. in the South Bronx, he had been financed by his wealthy father in Mexico who had dreams of his son extending the family empire. Only Benny had a drinking and gambling problem which continually compromised his fortune. When his wife was diagnosed with terminal cancer, it proved to be a crushing blow that would collapse his world entirely. Benny's wife died a month before Hoyt had proposed to Sabrina that evening at Keens' Steakhouse. He was seriously contemplating suicide after returning from the funeral in Mexico City. He had always been somewhat of a disappointment to his father, and this turn of events would be seen as the chickens coming home to roost. His father had provided his daughter-in-law a lavish funeral, but nothing was mentioned about Benny resuming his responsibilities at Superfecta. They both knew that it was imperative for him to bury his grief by immersing himself in his work. Only Benny was now looking for the easy way out. His .38 Smith & Wesson was on the desktop before him as he sat in his office on that dreary Friday afternoon. He had cut back to a six-man skeleton crew, and he knew that they all had resumes online. His general manager called off, most likely for a job interview. The assistant manager was a kid out of college who was still finding his way around. His four technicians were watching the clock, biding their time, waiting for Benny to close the factory down at last. He knew his Dad was going to turn off the money spigot any day now, which had already been reduced to a trickle. Benny was already in deep with loan sharks in Brooklyn as he tried to recoup his heavy gambling losses. He was a damned good poker player, but his string of luck had been horrible just before his wife took ill. The diagnosis was an evil omen that he never recovered from, playing every hand out of desperation rather than the prudence upon which he built his gambling rep. When he started borrowing against his personal assets, it combined with the medical expenses as a crippling blow. He turned to the sharks as a last resort and now they were out for blood. His father would never lend him the kind of money he needed to get out of this mess. He could hear the rats deserting the ship at 4:30, the lower level doors opening and closing as voices called back across the factory floor. He could hear the car doors slamming in the parking lot and the vehicles roaring off from his second floor office suite. He had no qualms about leaving the g*n out on the desk in plain sight because the bastards were not about to come up and check on him. He was just a milk cow scheduled for the meat market any day now. The door opened and closed again, and this time he heard someone coming up the steps. He didn't give a damn about anything anymore, didn't give a damn if anyone saw the revolver on the desk. He would let whoever it was walk away with their own conclusions. They would think he was planning to opt out, or he was turning into Benny Bad a*s, or maybe someone was looking for him. It made no difference at this point, let them think anything they wanted. “Who the hell are you?” “My name is Viktor Volkoff. You can call me Mr. V.” The man sat down casually in the chair before Benny's desk in his well-furnished office. He looked like a buffed-out version of a younger Elton John with his 70's blond coiffure and his wide-rimmed tinted lenses. He wore a dark green suit and a black shirt that made him look even more like a caricature. There was something not right about this picture. “Don't tell me. You're from Brooklyn.” “Were you planning to use that on yourself?” “Why?” Benny was ruffled. This wasn't something he intended anyone to take lightly. “I would want to be able to say that I witnessed the event.” “Yeah? And why's that?” “You owe $50k, Mr. Terrazas. It's not a figure my associates consider trifling. You missed a meeting earlier this week, which was a cause of concern. I am here to propose an option.” “Yeah? What's that?” “Your company is losing money. You can't possibly repay the debt. We have a way that you will be able to restore solvency to the company and make us all a lot of money.” “So what, you're gonna move in on me as silent partners?” “No, not quite. This is a twofold proposal, one designed to yield both short-term and long-term profits. We will be content to take a fair share and allow you to pay us what is owed on a convenient schedule. Should you prove negligent or renege in any way, the loan will be payable in full on notice.” “What do you think you're gonna do, cook meth in here?” “Something like that. The cover project will allay any suspicion by the authorities.” “Not happening. I'm not gonna drag my family name down in some d**g operation.” “If you had any real choices that g*n would not be lying on your desk. We know your father won't lend you any more money. If I leave here without your word, your account will be due and payable immediately. You know your situation as well as we do. You've nowhere to run, and there's nowhere you can hide without us finding you.” “What do I gotta do?” Benny asked resignedly. “There is a government project being negotiated between our nations as we speak,” Volkoff propped his elbows on the armrests as he folded his hands. “We have enough leverage to put you on a very short list. There is another company of interest known as the Brooks Chemical Company. We will expect you to reach out to your former colleague's daughter to ensure her participation. Once you are awarded this contract, phase two of the operation will commence.” “And you figure the government project'll be a cover-up for your d**g racket.” “Actually you'll have very little involvement in that area. We are sending one of our people over to act as your representative, overseeing the technical details of the project.” “I have a general manager who handles that.” “That will be taken care of as well. Our man will report for duty the first thing Monday. You will be contacted by FDA officials early next week. Once everything is set, we will begin modifying this facility to accommodate the necessary equipment. It will be a painless transition that will satisfy our debt and make you a very rich man in a short time.”