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“Okay, this is the God’s honest truth. After he got out of the pen, he contacted me, said he had to watch his ass, but he had a plan and might need me to head up security. Asked if I was interested. I was. Didn’t hear squat from him for months. Then out of the blue he said he was coming to D.C. and would see me on Saturday. If things worked out, he’d have startup capital and would need my help.”
“Startup capital for what?”
“He didn’t say, but I heard around that someone was putting together a new online sex club. Live webcams, quality videos, chats. Sounded promising.”
“And that someone was Roger Morton?”
“Don’t know. That was just the grapevine, a friend of mine talking big. But when I heard from Roger, I thought about that.”
“Who is this friend?”
“Now that, I ain’t saying.”
Noah took a risk. “Robbie Ralston?”
Shuman shrugged.
“Ralston is dead, too.”
Shuman couldn’t hide his reaction. “Robbie’s dead?”
“Was he the big talker?”
“Might be. But he wasn’t smart enough to do it on his own.” Shuman paused, then added, “I’d rather take my chances in prison than fuck with certain vodka-swilling shits, if you get my drift.”
Noah got it, all right.
“Thank you, Mr. Shuman.”
Ace laughed. “‘Thank you Mr. Shuman’? That’s a fucking hoot.” He winked at Abigail.
In the car, Abigail said, “You have friends in high places.”
Noah blinked. “Excuse me?”
“The deputy chief of police? What are the chances?”
Noah shrugged and turned the ignition. “I don’t know. Richard Blakesly was my first lieutenant when I joined the Air Force. He’s still there.”
“You bullshitted him?” Abigail grinned. “Pulling one over on a con like Shuman, I’m impressed.”
“I didn’t have time for his games, and I had no cause to haul his ass in. Nor did I want to spend an hour in the car with him.” Noah turned onto the main road and headed back toward D.C. “Morton and Ralston were playing a dangerous game.”
“Of course. They’re dead.”
“I was thinking of the vodka-swilling shits Ace Shuman alluded to.”
“You’ll have to clue me in.”
“Sergey Yuran is a Russian trafficker. If it’s in Russia—drugs, people, weapons—he can get it.”
“Yuran?”
Noah nodded. “He’s the only Russian who’s on Morton’s associate list. According to Kate Donovan’s notes, he supplied Trask Enterprises with a steady stream of prostitutes for their sex tapes. If Morton crossed him?”
He stopped. Something didn’t feel right about this.
“What?” Abigail pressed a moment later.
