The Millionaire's Secret (3 page)

“In the fridge,” he replied, enjoying the sight of her behind going to get the glasses. He could have made a worse choice, for a wife, he supposed. For her sake, though, he hoped it would be over soon and she would be free and clear, what she wanted, and what he needed, to protect her.

“What do you mean it’s not the right papers?” Behati practically slammed her head against the table. This was their second visit to the caseworker at the consulate today, and the second time they were being sent away.

“I need the papers from your caseworker at the agency,” she said, and Behati blew out a breath.

“Listen, I went off the rails somewhere around 13 and booked it to Latvia. You guys should have evidence of me working.”

“And listen to me,” the case worker said, looking between the two of them. “Somehow, you two got a loophole in the system. Behati, you didn’t exist and if you did, you were a minor, with no one to sign for you. You got married, but the divorce is going to require an even bigger loophole. Are you sure you two don’t want to consider counselling?”

Behati wanted to scream in her face that it was a sham marriage, but that would probably lead to arrest. She knew that Adam and herself didn’t exactly portray a typical divorcing couple, but they didn’t protray a typical married couple either, so what did it matter?

“I’ll make some calls,” the lady said, at last. “Stand by tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can get anything done.”

“Great,” Behati stood, sighing. She was particularly on edge because they had been out longer than expected, without any of her things. Particularly, the syringes that were hiding in her bathroom cabinet. She was good at hiding it, but they had been out for 10 hours, running back and forth, and she was getting twitchy. “Fine, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for your time,” Adam said, gracious and polite as always. It was one of the things she admired about him. He was never unkind, even if people were rude to him, or things weren’t going his way. “Hopefully, we’ll hear from you tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you just scream that she was being an incompetent idiot?” Behati asked, as they made their way to the car.

“What would that have accomplished, love?” he asked. “I had a feeling that this was going to be difficult. Thank you for enduring it so far.”

“No problem,” she replied, buckling her seat belt. “We’re going straight home, right?”

“If you wish,” he said, pulling out onto the road. “Behati, there’s something I wish to speak to you about.”

“Hmm?” she was fiddling with dirt under her nails, a nervous habit, and watching the clock. She calculated that now, in traffic, they would be home in 18 minutes, and she could be upstairs in 20 minutes, as long as no one stopped her. She dug her nails into her thigh to stop the trembling, and turned to Adam with a fake smile.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been on edge lately,” he said, turning a corner. Her eyes widened as she turned her head to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Just simply that it’s clear that you miss dance. I’m sorry you had to take time out of your career to be here to sort this out, I wish that there was another way.”

“Oh, that,” she let out a breath, glad that she hadn’t been caught. “Sure, I guess. I thought I would like having a break, but I feel kind of …bored. Not that you guys aren’t fun.”

He smiled.

“No offense taken. The owner of Kulanu theatre has recently become a client of ours, and I understand they are having closed auditions next week. If you’d like, I could arrange that you could attend. I know auditioning is something you haven’t done in awhile…”

“No, auditioning would be great,” she said, closing her eyes. The Kaluna theatre wasn’t anything spectacular, but she had always liked it. During the first world war, it had been a hiding place for many, and she always felt like there were great shows that came out of it, experimental works that weren’t tried anywhere else. It was the Kaluna theatre that had the ballerina dancing enpointe on top of steak knives. Behati always had a fascination with experimental and new theatre, all things she wasn’t allowed to do in the traditionalist Latvian National Ballet. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m going as fast as I can, love,” he replied, eyeing her. “Is there some reason you need to be at home.”

“Skype call, with the theatre,” she lied. “In Latvia. Just to say hi to the girls.”

“Right,” he glanced at the time. “It’s 2am in Latvia.”

She shrugged, with a devilish smile.

“And I’m quite sure they are up to no good. Can’t wait.”

“Mm,” Adam replied, his mind already on other things. The Bluetooth rang in the car, interrupting them and Adam clicked the button on the steering wheel. Behati raised an eyebrow.

“Fancy, old man,” she said, and he smirked as the call clicked on.

“Got to stay with the times,” he replied. “Hello?”

“Adam,” it was Rick’s voice that came through the stereo system, flat and monotone as always. On first impression, Behati hadn’t much liked Rick. She didn’t see why he had any reason to be depressed, with a successful life and a family that clearly cared about him. But the more she was around him, the more she realized that depression wasn’t always as it seemed. And it unexpectedly warmed her heart that to see the way Adam and Rick got along; the older always referring to the younger, including him and taking care of him. “Maurice is here.”

“Maurice is at the house?” Adam said, clearly surprised. “Now?”

“Yes. He wants to speak with you and only you.”

“I’ll be there in 5. Please keep him busy,” Adam clicked off, his face furrowed.

“Who’s Maurice?” Behati asked, momentarily distracted from counting down the metres until they were home on the GPS. It didn’t used to be like this. When it started, it was a leisure activity, something for fun, a social thing. She enjoyed the energy it gave her, the high and the lift.. but it took more and more to satisfy her cravings lately, and more frequently. She was running out of the supply she brought over, smuggled partly in her bag, partly on her body, and she wondered where she would find another dealer in such an uptight area.

“He’s one of our new clients,” Adam said, tightly. “Behati, when we get home, I don’t want you hanging around, alright? Is there somewhere you can be?”

“You’re embarrassed by me?” She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. The large hoop earrings and mess of red hair made her look like a gypsy today, but she didn’t think she looked particularly trashy.

“Not at all,” he replied. “Maurice is not a good person to meet.”

“Then why are you doing business with him?” she asked and Adam sighed.

“That, my dear, is something I asked myself. Is that alright?”

“Fine,” she replied, as they pulled into the driveway. They used the side door, which was normally reserved for the servants, and Adam gave her a kiss on the cheek, a gesture she was coming to appreciate it, before pointing her up the stairs.

Her mind was too preoccupied on what was waiting for her on the top to think about what he was hiding from her. She took the stairs two at a time, smacking on her gum, and practically skidded into the room, locking the door behind her. She paused a moment, listening for anyone outside the hall, before heading to her drawer and opening it. There, beneath her leotard, was her stash, waiting for her and gleaming in the dying light.

At first, she had hated the needles, waiting to pierce her skin and always leaving a trail of blood behind. She bruised easily, and it was hard to cover them up in the morning. But now, she was an expert, tying a stocking around her arm and finding the vein in under a minute flat.

The second the drugs hit her system, she sighed a great sigh and fell back onto the bed, closing her eyes and letting them do their work. This was a different kind of floating, of falling through bliss and landing in heaven. The trembling stopped, her stomach paused in turning over and her head felt like a million stars had exploded inside. She could see the sounds from downstairs, each mummer a colour. The sensation of her bed sheets felt like silk and she rolled over, enjoying the simplicity of breathing in and out, feeling her breath hit her arm. She was in bliss, and she never wanted to move.

After a moment, she loosened her makeshift tourniquet, and opened her eyes. Thank God traffic hadn’t been that bad, she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to last another moment. And thank God Adam hadn’t followed her upstairs. No doubt he’d disapprove, or worry, as always.

Downstairs, Adam’s mind was not on what Behati was or wasn’t doing. He straightened his tie in the mirror, and headed into the kitchen, where Rick was sitting with Maurice, a tumbler of whiskey in both their hands.

He gave Rick a pat on the back as he passed, reaching to shake Maurice’s hand. He tried to understand how hard Rick was trying to act normal, when, as the doctor’s explained, his mind was like a poisonous fog rolling in every afternoon. The effort he made was appreciated, although his brother was a shadow of his former self.

“Maurice,” he said, cautiously. “I didn’t expect you.”

Maurice was a big man, probably weighing more than both the brother’s combined. And unlike the brothers, he did not have an aura of attractiveness about him. His face was pock marked, with huge cheeks hanging off his face, and a nose that had been broken more than once. His eyes were a non descript brown, and squinty, almost pig like. And he had a leer about him, even if he was being friendly that made other’s uncomfortable. His teeth were yellow, and some were missing, and his clothes, while expensive, seemed unkempt. Adam did not like him on sight, but if they were to be in this business, he was the one that they needed to do business with.

“I just wanted to come to make sure our deal was done,” Maurice said, smiling with his broken smile. “The product will be shipped out tomorrow.”

“Starting tomorrow, yes,” Adam said, as he poured himself a drink. He wasn’t a big drinker, he enjoyed having a clear head, especially when dealing with clients. But Maurice was the kind of client who you dealt with, shot by shot, no matter how much of a lightweight you were. “16 of the shipping containers will have varying amounts of cocaine in them, due to cross the border in America on Wednesday. If they happen to choose those ones to ship, they will never find the false walls inside. I can guarantee your supply will be safe or I will take the hit myself.”

“You will indeed, Mr. Katz,” Maurice said. “Because I’m always leery about bringing someone new on board. This is a small payout, a million or so, but you do a good job, and they’ll be many more like this.”

‘Our trucks have a reputation and they are backed by the Katz name. And this is not the first time we have dealt in the black market,” Adam replied. “Do not worry about a thing.”

“I’m glad you said that to my face, Adam, because I hear you are a man of your word. It would kill you to break your word, wouldn’t it?” There was something evil in Maurice’s sneer, and Rick shifted uncomfortably. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t be Adam killing himself if his word was broken. This wasn’t the first time the Katz’s had dipped into the black market, it was true. But it was certainly the biggest. Their business had always bordered on illegal, crossing over to grey areas, and getting out before anyone noticed. For Adam, the acquisition of a transport truck company and smuggling went hand in hand. It was quick, simple and mostly anonymous. No one was hurt, according to him. Rick trusted his older brother’s advice, even if he didn’t trust the client.

“Glad to be of service,” Adam replied. “Is there anything else?”

Maurice lumbered up with quite an effort, shaking his head.

“No, that will be all. I’m headed down to Victory, find myself a little piece of trash. I’m partial to redheads, do you know any?” He looked Adam right in the eye. The oldest Katz held his gaze steadily, without blinking. For the briefest second, he wondered if Maurice knew who and what he harbored upstairs. There was no way he could, he and Behati were rarely seen together.

He wondered why it bothered him so much, to know another man would consider her. Behati certainly hadn’t been faithful to her vows, she was always up front about that, and he never cared before. And he had been a monk of late simply because no one else interested him. But when this drug lord looked him right in the eye, it made him uncomfortable, thinking of Behati on his arm.

“Not at my disposable, no, “Adam answered, with a slight smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you as always, Maurice.”

“And you,” Maurice said, heading towards the door.

Only once he was in his car and his car was down the street did Rick speak.

“What the hell was that about?”

“Who knows?” Adam replied, shaking his head. “One more thing on a pile of disasters.”

“How did the visit to the consulate go?” Rick asked, as they went back into the kitchen.

“Awful. Apparently, we shouldn’t have been allowed to be married in the first place. But since we did, somehow, they are making it impossible to undo. It’s ignorance really. Just because it shouldn’t have happened doesn’t mean it didn’t. It’s like there’s no policy to undo a loop hole like this,” Adam poured himself another tumbler of whiskey. “How was your day?”

Rick shrugged.

“Fine, until Maurice showed up. Mother called and said that she is planning a ball for her grand return, and we should expect the invitations to arrive to be mailed out. “

“Grand return,” Adam snorted. “She thinks she’s some sort of Duchess. A ball. Well, that will be fun.”

“Hardly,” Rick replied. “A bunch of people pretending to be happy when they are really just showing off.”