"Well, did you figure out where she is?" Chief Crowley asked, his tone measured but sharp, cutting through the tension in the room.
Ivan leaned back in his chair, his calm facade masking the effort it had taken to piece everything together. "She's with the Maxcian," he began. "One of their gang members is set to marry her next Sunday. The ceremony will take place at the Maxcian mansion at 21 Maritime Street."
He let his words hang in the air for a moment, then continued, "I've already struck a deal with Mexican. In two days, I'm supposed to deliver another batch of drugs to the mansion. If your officers are smart, they can disguise themselves as couriers and infiltrate the operation. That's the best chance you'll get to apprehend her and anyone else involved. As far as I'm concerned, I've done more than enough."
Ivan's tone was even, but inside he couldn't help but feel irritated. He had spent a mere three dollars bribing a passerby for this information, yet the risk he'd taken to put it all together made the deal feel grossly unequal.
Crowley exchanged a knowing glance with the senator, whose face had taken on a thoughtful expression. Ivan didn't miss the way the congressman's eyes narrowed slightly, the wheels clearly turning in his head.
"The Maxcian," the senator murmured, almost to himself. "So, it's just as I suspected."
Ivan's sharp instincts flared. Something about the senator's reaction set him on edge. This wasn't just a case of catching a petty Bandit. There was something bigger here, and Ivan wasn't sure he wanted to be caught in its undertow.
Crowley turned back to Ivan, his expression carefully neutral. "You've done an excellent job so far. On behalf of the California State Police and the state government, I want to thank you for your cooperation." His words were polite, but Ivan could sense the calculated undertone.
"The information you've provided is worth the one thousand dollars you were promised," Crowley continued. "If you want to withdraw now, we won't stop you."
Just as Ivan opened his mouth to accept, the senator cut in. "Wait a moment, Mr. Crowley."
Crowley glanced at the senator, surprised but silent. Ivan's attention shifted to the older man, who now turned his gaze directly to him.
"I have a suggestion," the senator said, his tone smooth and persuasive, as though he were discussing a routine political deal rather than a criminal operation.
Ivan frowned, his instincts prickling. "Let me guess, you want me to continue working on this case?"
"Exactly," the senator replied without hesitation. "You've already gained the trust of the Maxcian family, and you're the only person in this room who has actually seen the Kangaroo Bandit. If you stay involved, it would greatly improve our chances of success."
Before Ivan could interject, the senator added, "And let me assure you, your safety will be guaranteed. We'll provide whatever support you need."
Ivan let out a low, incredulous laugh. "Excuse me," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But let me be blunt: your thousand dollars isn't worth my life."
The senator leaned forward slightly, undeterred. "If it's about money, we can offer you more—"
Ivan raised a hand, cutting him off. "I'm not interested in money right now. After I deliver the drugs in two days, I'll walk away with my share of the profits; 160,000 dollars. That's enough for me."
He leaned forward, locking eyes with the senator. "I'm not looking to make this my life. I'm using this deal to make my first pot of gold and move on. Whether that's twenty villas or a hundred, I'll still be fine. I'm not here to play savior."
Crowley cleared his throat, his expression hardening. "I hope you realize those drugs were supplied by us," he said, his voice carrying a warning tone. "They're part of the operation to catch the Kangaroo Bandit. If we decide the risk is too high, we can pull the plug on this plan at any time."
Ivan's expression didn't falter. "And yet, the fake drug dealer plan has the highest chance of success for you, doesn't it? Let's not pretend you have better options." He let the words linger for a moment before adding, "I'll fulfill my remaining duties as agreed, but let me be clear, I expect nothing to happen that would jeopardize the trust between us."
The room fell into a tense silence. Ivan's words carried an unspoken warning: if the police tried to betray him, he wouldn't hesitate to tip off the Maxcian. It would be a disaster for both sides; Ivan would lose his carefully built connections with the underworld, and the police's operation would collapse. But Ivan wasn't afraid to play that card if he had to.
After what felt like an eternity, Crowley broke the silence. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of something sharper. "Ivan, don't you care about saving children like Martha?"
Ivan froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. He stared at Crowley, searching for any sign of manipulation, but the man's expression was unreadable.
He let out a slow breath, his mind racing. Was this about morality? Leverage? Or something else entirely? Ivan didn't answer immediately, knowing that whatever he said next could alter the course of the conversation.
Ivan paused, the senator's words hanging heavily in the air. He took a slow breath, his thoughts whirring, before responding, "She seemed happy the last time I saw her. Maybe she's doing fine over there, better than most would expect." His voice was calm but carried a hint of bitterness, the undertone of someone not entirely convinced by his own words.
Turning to the senator, Ivan added, "But let's be honest, Senator. If this country paid more attention to its marginalized communities, foreign populations, homeless children, the ones you all forget until election season, maybe none of this would be happening. Then you wouldn't need to worry about votes, would you? But that's your responsibility, not mine."
The senator leaned back in his chair, letting a smile spread across his face as if Ivan's words amused him rather than stung. "You make a valid point, Ivan," he said with a measured nod. "Fair enough. We won't stop you from walking away. The contract you signed with the police will remain honored. Your identity and involvement will stay confidential. That's a promise."
Crowley, who had been silently fuming during this exchange, finally spoke, his frustration barely concealed. "But, sir, this is our best chance to take them down completely! If we lose momentum now, who knows when we'll get it back—"
The senator waved his hand dismissively, cutting Crowley off. "It's fine. Let him go." He turned back to Ivan, his tone lighter now, almost friendly. "If you change your mind, you'll know where to find me. Come to 40 Lombard Street anytime."
Crowley looked like he wanted to protest but stopped short, glancing at the senator's calm but resolute expression. With a resigned sigh, he nodded, then reached for a notepad on his desk. Scribbling quickly, he tore off the top sheet and walked it over to Ivan.
"Here," Crowley said, handing him the note. "Give this to Snowden. He'll make sure you get your payment."
---
As Ivan exited the office, he replayed the senator's words in his mind. *Why would I change my mind?* he thought. From his perspective, there was no profit in staying involved. He'd fulfilled his contract, earned his money, and positioned himself to walk away with 160,000 dollars in a few days. The idea of staying entangled with the police or the Maxcian family, felt like an unnecessary risk.
*But why did it feel like they knew something I didn't?* Ivan shook the thought away. Sometimes, ignorance was better.
Snowden caught up to him in the hallway, noticing the pensive look on Ivan's face. "What happened in there?" he asked, his tone curious.
Ivan gave a faint shrug. "Nothing important. Let's just get the money."
The two men walked to a room at the far end of the second floor, the finance office. Inside, a woman in her forties looked up from her desk as they entered. Ivan handed her the note from Crowley. She gave it a quick glance, nodded, and disappeared into a back room. A moment later, she returned with a neatly stacked bundle of cash.
"Here you go," she said curtly, sliding the money across the counter.
Ivan counted the bills carefully, his fingers moving methodically through the crisp notes. Satisfied, he slipped the stack into his inner pocket. One thousand dollars, not much compared to the fortune he was about to make, but it marked the end of his contract and severed his official ties to the police.
---
As they stepped out of the Central Police Station, Snowden turned to Ivan, his tone shifting to a businesslike cadence. "So, in two days, your job will be to deliver the drugs to Oakland. Let me know where to gather the delivery team and the goods."
Ivan thought for a moment. He gave Snowden an address near the Hilty Hotel, far from his personal safe house. He had no intention of tying his rented property, or his identity as "Ivan," to his dealings with the gang.
Snowden jotted the address down, nodding in approval. "Good. We'll be ready." He hesitated for a moment, then looked at Ivan with something resembling admiration. "I've got to say, Ivan, you've been impressive. Your skills in gathering intel are top-notch. Ever thought about working for the police permanently?"
Ivan smiled faintly, but his mind was already elsewhere. There was a time when the idea of a stable job had appealed to him. But that was before he'd realized how easily he could exploit the gaps in the law, the inefficiencies of a system still in its infancy. In this era, the rules were too loose, the oversight too weak, he could achieve his goals faster by playing outside the system than within it.
"No," Ivan said after a moment, shaking his head. "I don't think so. I've got other plans."
Snowden tilted his head. "Like what?"
Ivan looked out at the bustling city streets, the faint hum of life vibrating through the air. "I'm not staying here forever," he said simply. "My goal is to head back to Russia first. And if I can, I'd like to see more of the world. There's too much out there to be stuck in one place."
Snowden smiled, though there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "Fair enough. But if you ever change your mind, you'd make one hell of a detective."
Ivan chuckled softly. "We'll see." But in his heart, he already knew the answer. The world was too big, and the opportunities too vast, for him to be tied to one place or one system. As far as he was concerned, this chapter was closing, and the next one was already calling.