Free Cut and Run by Donn Cortez Page A

blonde named Tammy Butcher. She was considerably less composed than Jillian Kastel, and burst into tears at the very start of the interview. Post-traumatic stress, Wolfe thought, and told her he’d take her statement later. Tammy thanked him while blowing her nose and trying not to sob.
    That left two, Devon Masters and Ivy Shen. Devon was an African-American woman with hair so short it looked painted on, and she was about as much help as Jillian Kastel had been. The last one, Ivy Shen, was a Vietnamese immigrant in the process of becoming a citizen; she acted bored, but Wolfe could see the nervousness she was trying to hide.
    â€œMs. Shen,” said Wolfe. “I’d like to hear your version of the events.”
    â€œWhat’s to tell?” she said. Her English was flawless. “I was stuck in a freezer for an hour.”
    â€œAn hour? Really? One of the other girls said it was only half an hour.”
    She shrugged. “I wasn’t wearing a watch, I don’t know. Seemed like an hour.”
    â€œMust have been frightening.”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œMister Dragoslav seem scared?”
    The question wasn’t one she’d been expecting. “What? No, I’ve never seen him scared.”
    â€œSo you’ve known him for a while.”
    â€œI—yeah, I’ve met him before. Never been on the boat before, though.”
    Wolfe nodded. “He probably brings you around on special occasions, right? When he’s celebrating something?”
    She smiled, but it was automatic reflex, as devoid of real emotion as an infomercial. “He likes to have a good time. I don’t ask why.”
    â€œNo, but I can see you’re intelligent—you must have some idea what he was celebrating.”
    â€œIt was some sort of business deal, I think. I don’t know any details.”
    â€œWhat kind of business is Mister Dragoslav in, exactly?”
    And now the smile was practically frozen on her face. “I don’t know.”
    Wolfe shook his head and pushed his chair back from the table. He could see this was going nowhere—at least he’d gotten the detail about the business deal, though it was so vague it wasn’t worth much. “All right, Ms. Shen, you can go. If we have any more questions we’ll be in touch.”
    She thanked him in a detached way and left. Wolfe sat at the interview table a while longer, gathering his thoughts.
    Dragoslav takes a group of hookers and a business-woman out to party in his yacht. They’re attacked at sea and there’s a massive shootout, which wipes out both sides except for seven people who hide in a concealed meat cooler. We search the boat and don’t find anything obviously illegal. No drugs, no weapons other than the ones used in the battle, no stolen merchandise or counterfeit money or anything else unusual — except one ugly, overgrown tuna.
    It didn’t add up. Something smelled rotten, and it wasn’t the fish…

5
    â€œH EY , N ATALIA ,” said Cooper, knocking on the door jamb to the layout room. “Wanna go watch some porn?”
    Natalia looked at him and blinked. “Why, Cooper, you smooth talker,” she said. “I thought you’d never ask. Are we going back to your place, or are you going to spring for the back row of a sleazy theater?”
    Cooper grinned. “I was thinking more along the lines of the AV lab. I like my own equipment, if you know what I mean.”
    â€œNot sure I want to,” said Natalia. “But lead on.”
    They talked as they walked. “Okay,” said Cooper, “I’ve been checking out Marssai Guardon’s sex video.”
    â€œWhat a surprise.”
    â€œAh, but there is a surprise. Guardon’s always claimed the video was made without her consent, but she’s never denied it was her.”
    â€œAre you saying it isn’t?”
    â€œYes…and no. You’ll see.”
    They reached