Restless Waters Read online

  An enormous neck held up a head that looked way too small for his body. It featured a face smothered with acne and a tongue that darted in and out of his mouth. But the real showstopper was the creation erected with his bleached blond hair. It had been gelled into a stiff fin that rose straight up in the air, mimicking the raised spine of a pissed-off komodo dragon. There seemed no question but that Yakimov was either working out twenty-four hours a day, or this guy was one hell of a serious steroid freak.

  “You must be Gloria Gaines,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’m Stas Yakimov.”

  I grabbed onto a paw the size of a baseball mitt and was almost lifted off my feet. The five pit bulls promptly began to snarl. Yakimov kicked at the hounds, who scurried away with their tails tucked tightly between their legs.

  “Sorry about that,” he apologized. “I told Dwayne to make sure you came to the front door. Otherwise, the dogs are bound to think you’re a trespasser and are trained to attack.”

  Why, that lying little bastard, I thought, making sure to keep a smile plastered on my face. No wonder Rasta Boy had looked so happy as I drove away from The Sugar Bar. He’d planned to get rid of me.

  “He probably just forgot,” I said, and pretended to brush it off.

  But Yakimov had a lethal security system. It explained how he was able to keep all these reptiles outside without being robbed.

  “Dwayne tells me that you have a pet store on the mainland,” Yakimov said, checking out my physique.

  It was at times like this that I wished I were more pumped up. I was daydreaming about what body parts I’d improve when Stas reached out toward me. I nearly jumped, wondering what he was up to. His hand encircled my bicep, and gave the muscle a squeeze.

  “You must work out,” he declared. “You have well-toned arms.”

  “Why, thank you,” I responded, and began to blush.

  I couldn’t have been more flattered if I were a schoolgirl. What I didn’t tell him was that it came from wrestling lowlifes like Rasta Boy.

  “So, where did you say your pet store was again?” he asked, getting down to business.

  “East Meadow, Long Island,” I replied, figuring it was a safe bet that he’d never been there.

  “East Meadow? Sounds like a nice quiet place,” Yakimov responded, slipping into salesman mode.

  Just as I’d thought. He clearly didn’t know the area.

  “I don’t usually work with small individual stores,” he continued. “I generally prefer to deal with only the larger chains.”

  “Really? Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because they don’t give me any trouble. You know what I mean? They order in bulk, pay on time, and that’s that. No fuss, no muss, no pain in the ass,” he explained.

  Stas was decked out in a variety of gold baubles, making me wonder if he and Dwayne patronized the same jeweler. A necklace the size of a snow-tire chain hung from his neck. It matched the heavy link bracelet on his arm, and the solid gold S weighing down his ring finger.

  “Then your business must be very lucrative,” I responded, blatantly gawking at his jewelry.

  Stas followed my gaze and laughed. “You bet it is. I made close to four hundred thousand dollars last year.”

  Yikes!

  “You grossed all that just from selling reptiles?” I asked, in amazement.

  No wonder invasive species were booming in Hawaii, with that kind of money to be made.

  “Who said anything about gross? I’m talking net,” Yakimov bragged, lightly fingering his massive gold necklace. “And yeah, it’s mainly from selling reptiles, along with one other sideline that I’ve got going.”

  “And what might that be?” I casually inquired.

  “Nothing you’d be interested in” he said matter-of-factly.

  That’s what he thought. In any case, the invasive species trade was more lucrative than I could ever have imagined. I was equally struck by the fact that Yakimov felt safe enough to speak about it so openly. He’d obviously never been hassled by state or federal authorities, regardless of what the law might be.

  “Well, you have quite an impressive array of lizards and my clientele goes nuts for this stuff. So why don’t we talk prices and see if we can’t do some business? My store might not be large, but I move an amazing amount of inventory. Plus, if things work out, I have friends in other states that might also be interested,” I added, hoping to sweeten the pot.

  “All right, then. Let’s get down to it,” Stas agreed, rubbing his ring as if for good luck.

  We walked by cage after cage, as Yakimov rattled off prices.

  “These rosy boas generally go for forty-five dollars, while the panther chameleons are one-hundred twenty bucks apiece. Those Jacksons over there? They sell for fifty-five smackers. As for the bearded dragons, they usually run forty for males and sixty for females.”

  I quickly realized why Yakimov was doing so well. His prices were better than any I’d heard on the mainland.

  “Of course, that’s if you’re buying in bulk,” he clarified. “You know, like a Pets Galore or Leapin’ Lizards chain. But you seem like a nice woman, so I’ll give you a special introductory deal. After that, we’ll see what happens based on how much you order and if you bring in other clients. Who knows? Maybe I can even come up with some better prices.”

  Stas was definitely savvy when it came to doing business.

  “Do you mind if I jot those numbers down?” I asked, trying to keep them straight without wanting to make him suspicious.

  “Of course. Go ahead. Be my guest,” he magnanimously said. “Now see these beauties over here?”

  We stopped in front of a crate of veiled chameleons. They stared at me reproachfully, as if aware of my secret.

  “These are my pride and joy. They’re a hot, hot item on today’s reptile market. In fact, I can barely keep up with the demand for them.”

  Yakimov ran a hand lightly over his spiky blond hair. The chameleons seemed to nod their own fins in agreement.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get them out of Saudi Arabia and Yemen these days? I’ll tell you. It’s damn near impossible. Let me fill you in on something else. You have these babies in your store window and they’ll be snapped up faster than you can say Al Qaeda. In fact, I’m going to make you a terrific offer. Order ten or more, and I’ll let you have them for the same price I give Pets Galore. One hundred twenty-five bucks a piece. Be sure to write that down,” Stas instructed, stabbing a sausage-sized finger at my pad.

  What a guy, what a guy, I thought, and quickly made a note of it.

  “I’m going to give you another hot tip,” Yakimov said. His tongue nearly darted in my ear as he pulled me close, as if to tell me a secret. “Advertise them as ‘bin Laden’s beasts,’ and I guarantee you can jack the price up to three hundred and fifty smackers each. All the local yahoos will be buying them faster than if they were hotcakes. Pretty smart idea, huh?” he said with a laugh.

  His muscles had a life of their own, as they jumped and jerked and vibrated. The guy would have made a hell of a Chippendale dancer with this kind of muscle control. As it was, I half expected him to turn into the Hulk and rip off his clothes.

  I pulled away, pretending to take a closer look at the chameleons.

  “That’s terrific, Stas. They’re definitely on my ‘to buy’ list. In fact, I’m thinking of ordering two dozen,” I replied, figuring that ought to make him happy.

  I was right. Stas wrapped his arms around me, nearly breaking my bones.

  “See how well we’re getting along already?” he cheerfully said, his fingers prancing up and down my spine.

  It actually felt pretty good, and was one way of getting a free massage. However, Yakimov seemed to be getting the wrong idea about us. I placed my hands against his chest and pushed him away.

  “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?” Stas asked, scrunching his face until his acne turned into one giant pimple.

  “I have to admit, I
am a little worried about something,” I said, pretending to pout the slightest bit.

  “Don’t be silly. You’re in Hawaii and you’ve just met me. What could possibly be better?” Stas modestly countered. “Unless you’re concerned that I’ll sell to competitors in your area. In which case, you’ll have to make it worth my while.”

  I didn’t even want to ask what he meant by that.

  “My concern is if you’ll be able to meet my demand,” I retorted, giving his chain a yank.

  “Oh you are, are you? Why? Are you all that insatiable?” Yakimov asked coyly. “Because I have something that will take care of that.”

  Oy veh. Now I got it. He was out to prove himself more of a sex toy than Rasta Boy.

  “Very funny, Stas,” I responded, and shot him a withering look. “I’m talking about the reptiles. You have such a large and unusual assortment that I’m worried what will happen if your suppliers dry up.”

  “That’s something you don’t have to fret your pretty little head about,” Stas said with a wink.

  “And why is that?” I questioned, ignoring his sexist comment.

  “Because I’m growing them right here on Oahu,” Yakimov revealed, proudly puffing out his already enormous chest.

  “That’s amazing,” I responded, feigning astonishment. “How did you ever manage to do that?”

  Yakimov’s cockscomb stood up a bit straighter, as if pleased that I was impressed. “I’m a friendly guy. I go and talk to people at bars in Waikiki. You never know who you might meet. It turned out, one of my “new friends” was a reptile wholesaler who was vacationing in Honolulu. We had a couple of drinks and soon he started to tell me his life story.”

  It seemed that Yakimov and I used some of the same techniques. Stas placed his hands on his hips, so that the veins in his arms popped out and stood at attention.

  “It didn’t take long for him to complain about having to place five-dollar-a-minute phone calls to Madagascar to try and track down lizards,” Stas continued. “Not only that, but he was handing out hundred-dollar bribes just to get the damn things shipped over to him. Except that half the time, people would take his money and never send the critters. He said he’d gotten tired of it and asked if I’d like to take a shot at raising them here in Hawaii. I thought, why the hell not? So, he smuggled a few over. The next thing you know, I’ve got myself a booming business,” Yakimov crowed. “Best of all, there’s not much overhead since everything is ranched in the wild.”

  Now all I needed were the names of those people that Yakimov dealt with on a regular basis. I figured that should be easy enough to learn in another visit or two.

  “You mean, I could send a couple of water monitors over here, and you’d actually start a colony of them for me?” I questioned, hoping to gather more information.

  “Absolutely. Except you’d have to come up with something better than that. I’ve already got plenty of those,” he revealed with a shrewd smile. “In fact, they’re just about ready to be caught and shipped to the mainland.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” I replied in disbelief.

  Water monitors grew to be seven feet in length, and were highly aggressive. Someone was in for a hell of a shock the next time they jumped in their local water hole to go for a swim.

  “Why don’t you think of a reptile that’s a little more original? Perhaps along the lines of what I have back here,” Yakimov suggested.

  He led the way to a bunker built out of cinder blocks. Sitting in front was a crate that had been raised off the ground.

  “I bet you have no idea what those things are inside,” he challenged.

  My breath caught in my throat at the sight of six long, graceful critters with whiplike tails and small, pointed heads. Light forest green in color, each had black stripes running down its back, and sharp claws attached to big strong feet. I instantly knew that I was looking at one of the rarest lizards on the planet.

  “Oh my God. Those are green tree monitors from New Guinea,” I responded in a hoarse whisper, unable to imagine how he’d gotten hold of them.

  “How did you know that?” Yakimov sharply questioned and stared at me. “The only people who usually recognize those are experts in the field.”

  Damn! I should have known better than to appear quite so knowledgeable. I quickly scrambled to cover my tracks.

  “I own a pet store. Remember? Besides, I’ve always loved chameleons. I had every lizard memorized by the time I was eleven years old,” I brazenly lied. “Not only that, but I recently read an article that green tree monitors are being captive bred at the Bronx Zoo.”

  That seemed to temporarily appease him. Yakimov’s complexion returned to normal, and he unclenched his fists.

  “Oh yeah. I think I read about that too,” Stas said with a slight nod, as if recalling the information.

  I leaned in for a closer view and let loose a low whistle. My heart jumped as it was answered by a hissing and spitting that hadn’t come from the three-foot lizards standing in front of me. Rather, the sound emanated from somewhere inside the cinderblock prison. I gazed up to meet a pair of feline eyes that angrily glared out through a small window.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaimed in surprise and leaped back. “What in the hell have you got in there?”

  “Well, well. Look who’s asking. If it isn’t the big animal expert,” Yakimov gloated in unconcealed delight. “I guess you aren’t as smart as you think. What you just saw is my cougar, Rocky.”

  I flashed back to the streak of brown that had run across the road the other night. Could Stas be crazy enough to attempt to breed mountain lions in the rain forests of Oahu?

  “You aren’t ranching those things, are you?” I asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

  If so, he’d never be able to catch them again.

  “Not yet. I’m still waiting for his girlfriend to arrive. She’d better come soon, though. ’Cause Rocky’s getting impatient for female companionship, if you know what I mean,” Stas imparted with a laugh.

  He kicked at something, and I saw that it was a piece of cougar scat.

  I pointed to it and asked, “You don’t let Rocky outside by any chance, do you?”

  Hopefully, he had more sense than to play at being Siegfried and Roy.

  “No, no. Rocky goes into a large crate whenever I clean his shed. I’m not about to let him escape like the last one did. That cost me way too much time and money.”

  Whadda ya know? So I hadn’t been crazy, after all. There was a cougar running around loose in the mountains. I could already see the headline that would one day be splashed across the Star Advertiser and the Honolulu Bulletin.

  MAN-EATING MOUNTAIN LION GOBBLES YET ANOTHER HUMAN

  That should do wonders for Hawaii’s tourist industry.

  “Why don’t we go inside and finish our business? That way we can relax and you can give me your order,” Yakimov suggested.

  My, my. But wasn’t Stas eager to seal the deal? It was fine with me. I’d get a chance to snoop around inside his house.

  I peered through the bunker window once more. Rocky anxiously paced back and forth, as if he were a condemned prisoner. I’d certainly hate to be his girlfriend when she finally arrived.

  We approached the house, where a large mobile hung outside the back door. It looked like something that Fred Flintstone might have owned, touting real bones in place of chimes or cute little figures of angels. A whisper of a breeze made them clatter together like skeletons engaged in a macabre dance. The sound reverberated in the air, ominous as a death rattle.

  Yakimov played with them as we stood near the door.

  “You like this thing? I made it myself,” he announced.

  “It’s very interesting. What sort of bones did you use?” I asked, curious as to the type of animal he’d killed.

  “These are from my old pit bulls,” Yakimov divulged with a peculiar grin. “This way, the dogs are always with me. I like to think of myself as a sentimental guy.”


  Funny. I was beginning to think of him as a muscle-bound, lizard-breeding, environmentally polluting pervert.

  I scurried past the mobile and followed Stas into what appeared to be the kitchen. The interior of the house perfectly mirrored its shabby exterior. The only thing that could have helped the place would have been a wrecking ball. Paint was peeling off the walls, and pots and pans were scattered about.

  But it was the mind-boggling noise inside that made it seem as if every critter he’d ever sold had come back to haunt him. The ruckus was nearly deafening. It sounded as if something large were pinned behind the walls and desperately clawing to get out. It reminded me of hundreds of feet shuffling against gravel.

  “Sorry about the racket. A delivery of crickets came today,” Stas shouted, and pointed to dozens of boxes piled high on the kitchen floor. “I like to feed them to the lizards right before they’re packed up for shipment.”

  So that was it. The sound came not from one creature, but thousands of crickets crammed inside boxes. Terrific. Yakimov was importing alien insects to feed his invasive species, in a never-ending cycle that spelled disaster for Hawaii.

  We picked our way through the mess and headed into the living room, where I viewed its unique decor. The place had a definite S&M feel about it. Probably because the furniture looked as though it had been beaten with chains and smothered in dog hair. All this was set against walls that were painted Day-Glo red.

  But the true piece de resistance was the life-size pit bull that stood stuffed and mounted on a glass coffee table covered in dust. The pooch wore a tight spike collar, with teeth bared, as if ready to attack on command. Stas walked over and affectionately petted the thing before leaning down to give it a kiss.

  “This is Sparky, the love of my life. I think my wife knew it as well, which was why she didn’t like him. The bitch finally gave me an ultimatum. Only one of them could stay. The other had to go. So guess which one ended up getting the boot?”

  I looked at Sparky and hated to imagine what must have happened to Yakimov’s wife. Stas seemed to confirm my suspicions as our eyes met. Suddenly, something didn’t feel quite right. Perhaps it hadn’t been such a wise idea to come into the house, after all. A subtle change appeared to be taking place within Yakimov. It was definitely time to wrap things up and vamoose.