Chapter 16
I gave Kelly a kiss goodbye at 6:15 AM and headed for my office. I met briefly with Uri’s contact, Igor Shmalko, and by 7:10 we were on a conference call with Odessa Police Lieutenant Victor Sanchenko. Igor had a brief exchange with the lieutenant, then told me to ahead with my questions.
“I’m a detective in San Diego, California. Recently, a man was murdered who was under contract to Ivan Chofsky. I began investigating Chofsky and, since then, have been shot at, had subordinates tied up and beaten, and my office was burglarized by his cousin’s men. It appears that he’s connected to the Russian Mafia. Do you think this is possible?”
Igor translated, “No, Ivan Chofsky could never join the Mafia.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Chofsky has a contract on his head. I know from informants that the contract is still in force.”
“Chofsky now owns a record company. The murdered man was a star performer who was about to leave Chofsky’s company for another. So far, Chofsky has refused to cooperate with the police and is using strong-arm tactics. Why would he do this?”
“Chofsky doesn’t trust the police anymore. But he will never trust the Mafia. I tell you that with absolute certainty,” he said.
“I read the Tass articles leading up to the recovery of Ivana, but there were no accounts of how she was returned. Can you fill me in?”
Lt. Sanchenko paused. “As one detective to another, I will tell you if Mr. Shmalko agrees to keep this information completely confidential.” Igor agreed.
“Chofsky cooperated with me and consented to arrange an exchange of the money for his daughter. We set up an ambush, using 25 officers. It turned into a massacre. Twelve police officers were killed and another six were wounded. Eighteen Mafia men were killed and twelve were wounded. It is not the kind of news that gets reported.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“There are still people who feel we were better off under the USSR. Bad news like this makes it look like we aren’t able to maintain order.”
“How did the Mafia know you were waiting for them?”
“They had an informant at police headquarters.”
“Is it possible that Chofsky might have been working with both sides to give his daughter the best chance for survival?”
“None at all. I made it very clear to him that they had no choice but to kill his daughter. As long as she was alive, she could testify against her captors. When they mailed her finger to him he knew we were right,” Sanchenko said.
“Then why would he now resort to Mafia tactics himself?”
“I assume he fears the Mafia will catch up to him. He probably surrounds himself with tough men who will stand up to them. We Russians are suspicious by nature. Anyone born after the Russian Revolution into the USSR lived with the prospect of a neighbor or even an occasional family member turning him in for minor crimes against the state. I would not be at all surprised if Ivan suspects you of being part of the Mafia.”
“Last week a television station reported that they thought Ivan was connected with the Russian Mafia. They showed his picture and told everyone he owns Cerise Records. Do you think the Mafia will be coming after him soon?”
“If they mentioned the Russian Mafia and showed his picture, I’m sure assassins are on their way if they aren’t already there.”
“Last night I photographed four men who I think are Russian Mafia. One is definitely living in San Diego, but I’m not sure about the others. Can I email you their pictures to see if you can identify any of them,” I asked.
Sanchenko agreed and gave me his email address. I attached the clearest of the pictures.
“Lt. Sanchenko, can you tell me anything about how organized the Russian Mafia is in the United States?”
“The Russian Mafia is located throughout the world. Wherever there is money to be made you will find them. The United States has been a major target since your economy is so affluent.”
“Do they have their own local Mafia dons?” I asked. Igor had a problem interpreting dons, but they finally figured it out.
“Each cell has considerable autonomy, but each is beholding to Mother Russia. If a cell fails to pay its share to the home country, men like the ones you described from last night, pay a visit and collect in blood.” As I was formulating my next question, he said, “Your email just arrived.”
“Do you recognize any of the men?”
“The man in the middle, with the striped shirt, is Boris Schmelnikov. He is a professional killer based here in the Ukraine. The man on his left is Dimitri Nazaroff. He finds people who don’t want to be found.”
“Thank you very much for your time,” I said.
“You can thank me by putting a bullet in Schmelnikov and Nazaroff,” he replied and hung up.
I thanked Igor and impressed on him the need for confidentiality.