CHAPTER EIGHT

Bogdan Iliev looked at the two agents with the easy contempt that all professional criminals showed law enforcement. Only Turk seemed to command his respect, which didn't surprise Faith, considering how effortlessly Turk managed to take him down. He glanced at the dog nervously before remembering himself and turning a haughty glance back up to the agents.

"Okay, Iliev," Faith said, "Tell us why you're here."

"That's your job, madam agent," Iliev said with a contemptuous smile.

Faith shrugged. "Suit yourself. You're here because you're a person of interest in the murders of Harvey Harris and Vincent Mariano."

Iliev blinked in surprise.

"Not expecting that, were you?" Michael asked.

Iliev, showing surprising candor, replied, "No. Honestly, I thought you were here about the drugs. That's why people always talk to me. They assume that just because I have tattoos and carry a pistol, I must be a drug runner."

"Are you a drug runner?" Michael pressed.

He grinned, "So it is about the drugs."

"No, it isn't," Faith said. "Personally, I don't care if you're running drugs. That's not what I'm here for. I'm here for the two people who were shocked to death in the past week."

He chuckled. "A nice piece of artistry, that. A shock collar? That's just beautiful."

Faith leaned forward. "I get that you have to pretend to be arrogant and unmoved by our threats, but I think it will serve you better to just answer our questions without acting like an idiot. Shall we try that?"

"I don't know what to tell you," Iliev replied. "It wasn't me. It wasn't anyone I knew, either by sight or by name. Honestly, I wish it was. That's a beautiful way to send a message. Whoever did it just earned a lot of street credit."

"You haven't heard anything about it?" Michael asked. "Anyone enjoy a sudden spike in ‘street credit'?"

Iliev chuckled. "Not that I know of. If you were asking my opinion, I would say it's someone within the Syndicate. You are aware that Harris was a man of some stature within the Syndicate, aren't you?"

"We know he ran the street crew here," Faith said.

"Not just the street crew," Iliev replied. "The clubs, the hookers and the dog fights too."

Faith's ears perked up. "Dogfights?"

"Oh yes. You haven't heard about the dogfights? That was Harris's big moneymaker. Well, the girls were his big moneymaker. They always are. The one thing that poor people want—any people really—more than drugs is sex. You control sex, you control a territory. That's why the Syndicate is so powerful in Atlanta. You earn a lot of highly placed friends if you can provide willing girls. If you know what I mean."

Faith knew what he meant, but she wasn't here to bust a prostitution ring either. "Tell me about the dogfights."

"I can't. I wasn't allowed anywhere near them. Only Harris's crew could be involved with dogs, just like only Harris's crew could be involved with girls. My… associates… preferred that I keep the peace with Harris. They were very clear that there was to be no retaliation for the altercation where Harris killed one of our own. From what I understand, they accepted a seven-figure settlement from the Syndicate and left it at that."

Faith and Michael glanced at each other. This was becoming more complicated than they had expected. "What about Mariano?" Michael asked. "What did he have to do with the dogs?"

"No clue. I know he was involved, but how? I couldn't guess."

Faith could. She had an idea now why Farmer's fence was cut open and his dog sedated.

But why would a dog fighting ring want an old, sweet Cocker Spaniel? Macy was about as far from a fighting dog as Faith was from a sumo wrestler. Unless people just liked watching big dogs eat small dogs. She wouldn't put that past them.

"What else can you tell us about the Syndicate?" Faith asked. "Who's in charge now that Harris is out?"

Iliev chuckled. "Agents, I know I look like an attractive and capable leader, but the truth is, I'm fairly low on the ladder. If anyone I know has the information you seek, they haven't told me, and they won't. I get orders, and I follow them. I do a very good job of following them, and I do a very good job of not being nosy. That's why I'm still alive."

"Who could we talk to who might know the answers?" Faith asked.

Iliev met her eyes. "Not answering questions like that is another reason I'm still alive."

Faith sighed and said, "All right, Mr. Iliev. We're going to hold you until we decide if we're pressing charges for the assault on our persons."

Iliev chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Of course you are."

"Count yourself lucky it isn't worse than that," Faith said. "Yet."

As they left the room, Iliev called after them. "Good luck on your collar, agents." He laughed at his on joke, and Faith was relieved when the door closed and blocked the sound of his voice.

***

"You lied to us, Keenan," Faith said.

"I told you!" he replied, his face slick with the sweat of desperation. "I didn't lie to you. I don't know anything!"

Faith leaned over the table and stared hard at him. Michael showed the same stony glare, and Keenan paled a shade. His eyes shifted to the left, telling Faith that she was right to suspect him of lying. "All right, Keenan," she said, "Here's what's going to happen. We're going to take you to the precinct, where you'll be charged with obstruction of justice."

He paled another shade but somehow managed a defiant look. "You can't threaten me. The cops use me as an informant. I'm valuable to them."

Faith hadn't worked with CI's before, but she was willing to bet that Keenan wasn't nearly as valuable as he thought he was. Still, she would much rather he talked now than force them to go through the hassle of charging him and performing a formal interrogation.

She looked at Michael, who nodded and said, "that's a good point, Keenan. Here's another idea. We drive you back to the club, where we thank you loudly and publicly for your help in the Harris case and promise you that as long as you continue to provide valuable information to us, we'll see to it that you're handsomely rewarded for your trouble."

Keenan looked like he might be sick.

"I like that idea," Faith said. "Clap you on the shoulder, call you a good citizen, tell you to enjoy your night with Yadira. Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

"You two are evil," Keenan complained. "You know that?"

"You don't want to talk to us about evil," Faith said.

Keenan sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He shook his head bleakly and said, "You know you could be getting me killed by asking me this stuff, right?"

"I know that people are already getting killed," Faith countered, "and that you know more than you told us the last time we talked. That makes me a lot less concerned about your safety."

"All right," he said, "I get it. Fine." He looked around the diner, where once more, there was only the odd elderly couple and harried family of below-school-aged children. "Look, I'm not supposed to know this, okay? I don't just mean I'm not supposed to tell you, I mean I'm not supposed to know it in the first place."

"And we care about that because…?" Michael said.

"I know you don't care," Keenan spat. "But I do, and that means if I'm going to tell you, I need some guarantees."

"You're not in a position to demand anything, Keenan," Faith said.

"Well, if people find out it's me talking, I'm going to get killed, and then you'll have a new murder to solve. So how about we save me some pain and you some work, and you promise me that my name never comes up. You don't even use the word CI. You don't talk about sources. You just say that you learned this fact or discovered that fact and leave it at that. Can we agree on that, at least?"

"You give us something useful," Faith said, "and you have my word I forget your name and face the moment this case is over."

"Good," Keenan said. He turned to Michael. "What about you?"

"Believe me, kid, I have better things to do than railroad a two-bit john. You help us out, I will gladly erase the memory of you from my mind."

"The feeling is mutual, agent," Keenan replied.

He looked at Turk, who watched him with a calm, half-bored expression.

After a moment, Keenan nodded and said, "Okay. Here's what I know. Harris ran a dog-fighting ring in the inner city. He had his boys handle it: finding locations, finding dogs, setting up fights, taking bets, collecting, all that stuff. You know how the mob used to run boxing back in the day?" Faith nodded. "Well, it's the same thing here. You want to fight dogs in Atlanta, you go through H. Or at least, you used to. Now that he's out, I have no idea what'll happen. There's a power vacuum and a half going on now. If you think it's good riddance that H is out of the picture, you have another thing coming. Things are gonna get heavy here real quick."

"So Harris ran the ring," Faith interjected, "What about Vincent Mariano? What's his connection?"

"I honestly don't know," Keenan said, "I know he was an errand boy for them. I know he was a little more… respected… of an errand boy than me."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I do intern shit. Bring me coffee, bring me lunch, bring me drycleaning… stuff like that. Mariano did actual work for them, but I don't know what."

"So you couldn't tell me if he ever procured dogs for Harris?"

"No," Keenan said, "I can't tell you what he did ever besides refuse a lapdance from Carla. Can't trust a man who don't want no lapdances from Carla. She's got an ass like—"

"Let's not talk about girls," Michael said, "case only."

"I mean, I don't really know anything else," Keenan said, "Just that Mariano worked for them running errands. If you want my opinion, I'll tell you that I'm pretty sure he was running dogs just like he was running drugs and girls, but I don't think you want my opinion."

"Almost never," Faith agreed, "but in this case, I think you might be right. I want you to ask around and see what you can learn about this ring. I'll be back to talk to you later."

Keenan chuckled mirthlessly. "You don't know nothing about gangs, do you, agent? You don't ask around for anything. You hear things, and unless the things you hear are said about you or to you, you act like you didn't hear them. I can keep my ears open, but I doubt like hell I'm going to hear anything about the dogs."

"I don't think that's true," Faith said. "There's a power vacuum now. People are going to be looking to fill that vacuum. That means they're going to be looking for people to support them. That means they're going to talk. You don't need to ask questions if you think it's going to get you killed, but you need to listen. I'm pretty sure you'll learn something. When we talk to you again, I'll be very interested in what you have to say."

"When will that be?" Keenan asked.

"When we show up," Faith replied.