Page 29 of Pursuing the Egoist
“Are you watching the news? I’m on my way.” Greg’s words cleared his mind of the falling fog of intoxication. After terminating the call, Yugo tossed the phone to the coffee table and grabbed the remote control that lay on it.
He thumbed a button, and a picture appeared on the screen on the wall. Blood slammed into his head and abated, leaving his face cold and tingling. A female news anchor, dressed in a black fur coat, stood next to the river. The wind played in her black hair, entwining snow in it.
“Not ten minutes ago, four men were arrested after the yacht that supposedly belongs to the criminal organization S-Syndicate, was intercepted close to the Reichsbrücke Bridge.” The picture changed, showing a white yacht surrounded by police jet skis and motorboats. Blue and red lights, flashing in the night, reflected in waters that never froze. “According to a short statement from the Chief of Police, this is the result of a tremendous, months-long operation. Together, the valiant officers from the Organized Crime Unit and EKO Cobra put a river block over the Danube and seized more than a ton of pure heroin.”
With a nerve ticking beneath his eye, Yugo pressed the top, right button on the remote control. The screen died. He grabbed his phone again and dialed Gustavo. The response was prompt.
“I already know.”
“How the fuck did this happen?” Yugo heard his own sharp exhale resounding in the speaker.
“I’m working on it.”
Yugo rested his eyes in the shade of his palm. His mind refused to process the situation. Trying to keep his temper under control, he asked, “What about Sergen?”
“Arrested.”
Yugo didn’t recognize the growl his voice turned into, “How much have we lost?”
“One point two tons. Could have been worse. The second yacht backed out just before the seizure happened.”
The numbers sliced Yugo’s brain with an acute headache. “Was Andy escorting the delivery?”
“Yes, but I can’t reach him.”
Yugo hung up. His thoughts clashed against each other as his mind refused to process the damage.
“A fucking ton…” He breathed and shook his head. “How the fuck did this happen?”
He approached the desk and pressed his hands against the polished wood. His gaze darted from one object to another, trying to find a resting spot that would help him anchor his thoughts. Instead, it stumbled over a pile of photographs. Grabbing the top one, he stared at the open face and stubborn, brown eyes. Pure, toxic hatred syringed into his veins, making his vision glitch with dark spots. But the same hatred helped him to calm down. Hooking the chair with his foot, he slumped down and opened his laptop. Finding the news channel’s website, he clicked on a video record of the seizure. It was the same he’d seen on the TV.
Grabbing his phone again, he speed-dialed Greg without realizing what he was doing. As soon as he heard the call being answered, he ordered, “I want the complete video record of the seizure and the police report. Now.”
“Got it.”
GREG BURST INTO THE OFFICEwithout a knock. The sour stench of unwashed body punched Yugo in the face with the airwave the closing door created. Re-watching the video, Yugo didn’t spare him a glance.
On his laptop screen, the yacht approached the bridge, and dozens of police lights flashed in the darkness surrounding it. A loudhailer spoke in a familiar, male voice, ordering the yacht to turn the engine off. Yugo saw two speedboats, escorting the yacht, turn tail and accelerate. A few police jet skis followed them. Watching the chase disappear from view, Yugo hoped that none of the fugitives had been caught.
The visual changed as the time jumped forward forty minutes. The female anchor approached a male police officer wearing a black bulletproof vest. Standing next to the police speedboat with his back to the camera and a loudhailer in his hand, he watched the cargo being unloaded. The man turned as if sensing her presence. Windburn colored his cheeks and chin pink. His ears glowed red, so did the rim of his dry lips, indicating he had spent hours in the storm. The furrow between his brows deepened when he lifted a hand to his face to wipe off the melted snow. His nails and fingertips looked blue even in the yellow streetlight.
The same female anchor stepped into the frame, taking a position in front of the light. The piercing wind kept throwing her long hair into her face causing her hand to flicker up and down with annoying frequency.
“Detective Leiris, I’m happy to be the first to congratulate you on being the hero of the day. The mayor said that by taking the leading role in this investigation, you made this huge achievement happen.” Her red lips stretched in a sweet but fake smile.
“Turn the camera off.” Leiris’ face hardened as he palmed the lens of the camera. The screen darkened, but Yugo still heard him say, “Cut this out or you’ll be filming kittens for YouTube for the rest of your life. Who let you onto the crime scene?”
The camera shook and the visual returned, but now it filmed the ground.
“The mayor did…” She challenged; aggressive, pushy notes overtook the pleasant gentleness in her thick, rich voice.
“I don’t give a fuck what the mayor said. Leave the scene now and cut me out of any footage.”
The camera caught the tip of a heavy boot. The foot disappeared from the view but the footprint remained in the drying mud.
“Asshole…” the female voice said, and the camera refocused on the river. “Fuck him. Let’s film the mayor; I think he just arrived.”
The screen flickered. The focus jumped from an occasional snowflake to the anchor, until it finally stabilized on Elias Krenn who gave a well-practiced smile to the camera. Fresh snow speckled his gray hair and his perfectly-cut, Italian suit.
