He waved it aside. The chill in his eyes told me we were back to business.
“Exactly what do you want from me?”
“There’s only one thing I want. And it’s not that treasure. That damn thing’s covered with centuries of blood, and it keeps demanding more. You can have it with my blessings.”
I could still hear doubt in his voice. “Then what?”
“I want my life back, with you and all of your people out of it. I’m willing to give you the secret to the treasure to get my freedom in exchange. It’s that simple.”
He sat back. He had Mr. Devlin’s habit of putting his hand to his jaw when he was playing verbal chess. The idea of anyone not willing to sell his soul for anything that could be turned into money was straining his comprehension. I knew he’d have to poke it on all sides to see if it could be real.
“If it’s that simple, why not just hand over the violin? Right now. We’ll follow the lead ourselves. You’ll be out of it.”
“You asked me to speak plainly. Is that still your wish?”
“Of course.”
I pulled my chair closer and dropped my voice again for his hearing only.
“Then here’s how it is. The truth is, you would not be able to accomplish what I believe I can. Your methods would not work. Your threats of violence won’t work on the kind of people who have the information we need. Then you’d be back in my life to get me to unscramble the pieces for you. By then, the trail would be trampled out of existence. This is the plain truth. Your best chance of getting the treasure—my best chance of getting my life back permanently—is for me to find the treasure and just tell you where it is.”
I said it with passion. I realized that I was gambling that he’d see enough logic behind my blunt words to douse the anger I could see rising. I could only pray that his greed for the treasure would trump his urge to squash the demeaning bug in the blue suit.
He was silent. I could sense him holding his anger in check for at least half a minute. The heat seemed to dissipate slowly, but I had no idea what would take its place.
At last, he simply took a deep breath. He slowly looked around that room. If I could read him, he was breathing in the sense of power he felt in being surrounded by an army of killers who would commit any act at his command. I could almost see it healing any effect my words could have had on his sense of total control.
It was time to play my last trump card. This time I did it in a voice they all could hear. “Mr. Laskovitch, this is the deal. If you give me your word, just your word, that you’ll call off the guns as of right now, you’ll have my trust. I believe you’ll act as a man of honor in front of these men you lead. On that basis, I’ll give you my promise. The next time you’ll hear from me will be to give you the location of the treasure. We’ll shake hands, and the deal will be done.”
I could see him slowly tasting it in his mind. A radical new way of controlling his world. Trust, in place of raw violence. I prayed that it could take root.
“Those are fine words, Mr. Knight. Well said here in this room while we’re face-to-face. But what assurance do I have when you walk out that door?”
“Two things. You’ll have my word. Ask around. That’s the best assurance you’ll ever have.”
“And the second thing?”
“If you ever find that I haven’t kept the promise I make to you here today—you know how vulnerable I’ll be to your vengeance for the rest of my life. This city is my home. I’ll be easy to find. If you know me as I think you do, you know I’ll never let it come to that.”
That was my last card. I looked down at the table. The game and my life were in his hands. If I’d had anything left in this life to wager, which I didn’t, I’d have had no idea in the world what outcome to bet it on.
He sat back down. Our eyes met again. He seemed to be trying to draw some unspoken message out of mine. I sensed that he was on the tilting edge of a decision, but needed one more push to take the plunge. I had no more to give.
I noticed his glance for a fraction of a second to one of the goons standing behind me. Before I could move, I felt an arm clamp like a steel band around my chest. It held me paralyzed. The band tightened until my lungs could only take in air in quick gasps. I thought I was about to be suffocated, until a hand came around my shoulder. It held the point of a blade directly on top of my jugular vein.
I was frozen still. The only thing running through my consciousness was a prayer. I became vaguely aware that Laskovitch was standing, looking down at me. Whatever he was saying I couldn’t make out.
He leaned across the table. He was still speaking. There was a roaring in my ears that garbled his words. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t have responded anyway.
I thought I saw him look up and nod to whatever thug had me in his grip. I felt the tip of the blade dig into the skin. A trickle of moisture started running down my neck.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on a prayer for the people to whom I’d never have a chance to say goodbye.
Somewhere in that fog, I became aware that Laskovitch was shouting. He was barking out the word “Stoy!” I felt the blade slip a quarter of an inch deeper. Laskovitch yelled it one more time. Louder. “Stoy!”
This time it was punctuated by the crack of his fist slamming the table.
What little consciousness I had left began telling me that the tip of the blade was moving back out of my skin. A second later, the steel band on my chest was gone. I took three deep breaths to make up for lost air. When I could look up, I saw Laskovitch glaring at me.
“Now, Mr. Knight. Now we’ll talk about an agreement. You have a taste of what will happen if you should be less than faithful to your promise. Your talk of trust in your word is good in a room of your fine lawyers. In this room, I want the consequences of betrayal clearly understood. You made your point. Now I’ve made mine. Do we agree?”
I wasn’t sure I could get out words, but the agreement I needed was on the table. I nodded assent.
“Good. Then we have a bargain. I’ll not be the first to break it.”
My voice sounded hoarse, but it came out. “Nor will I.”
He pounded his fist on the table. He looked around at the thugs surrounding us. “Hear me, all of you. I’ve given my word. It goes for all of us. I’ll deal with any man who betrays that word.”
He grabbed the bottle of vodka. The grin was back. He was filling both glasses with the remains of the bottle. He raised his glass. In the last minute, I’d become totally sober. I picked up my glass.
“Mr. Knight, a toast. Very traditional Russian. ‘May there be as much trouble in each of our lives … as there shall remain drops of vodka in these glasses.’” We both swallowed every drop.
We stood. My last words to Mr. Laskovitch were from the heart. “I thank God that your man with the knife finally obeyed your command. I assume you were telling him to stop. I had serious doubts that he would.”
Mr. Laskovitch came close enough to whisper. “I had serious doubts myself, Mr. Knight. The man you shot in Romania. The man who died. The one you called ‘Boris.’ He was this man’s brother.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
SINCE THIS LUNACY began, I’d been walking with each foot in a different pool of quicksand—one Chinese and one Russian. For the first time in what seemed like a year, I let myself feel freedom. I drove to the Wallachia Café in Roslindale without once looking back or even pushing the speed limit. I still aggressively contested the right of way at all of the intersections, because to do otherwise would only confuse the other Boston drivers.
On the way, I called George. This time I was inviting him to lunch. It was a late lunch, because I had one important milestone to reach first. I returned both rental cars. I asked the second rental company to meet me to pick up its car at our home in Winthrop. My confidence in getting the two bands of gorillas off my back ran so deep that for the first time since that dinner at the China Pearl Restaurant at the start of this odyssey, I drove to the café in my very
own Corvette.
George and I sat at the table in the same private room where we’d first had an open discussion. He offered a toast with a new bottle of tuica. I sipped enough to cover the bounds of courtesy, but then switched to straight Coca Cola. My system was still recovering from its earlier immersion in Russian vodka. George understood.
He sat back and just shook his head with a broad smile. “Michael, you’re a damned fool. I did not expect to see you again. How the hell did you do it with the Russians? I want every detail.”
It took ten minutes in the telling without interruption. It seemed like a release for me to relive it out loud. The last thing I described was my agreement with Laskovitch.
George looked at me for about five seconds and then just nodded. “You were there, Michael. As far as it’s possible to read that mobster, you seem satisfied. I knew you were when you drove up. You were in your Corvette.”
“I have no choice. I have to trust both the Russians and the Chinese to keep their end of the bargain. It’s the best I can get.” I leaned a bit closer. “You do know, it also means I have to keep my word to them. As I told you, it’s all part of the plan. Are you still on board?”
“I’m in all the way. But you have the heavy oar. Remember, I’m here to do anything you need. When do you want to leave for Istanbul?”
“Tonight. Do we still agree that the first contact has to be the woman who translated the journal of the ship’s doctor? Professor Sakim?”
“Yes. I called her after I talked to you. She has an office in the classical languages department of Koc University. I’m afraid you’ll have to sell your story all over again.”
“Is she willing to talk to me?”
“She’s willing to see you. Whether she’ll talk to you about the treasure? That’s another hurdle. She did admit that she kept a part of the ship doctor’s journal out of the translation. She’s the only one who knows what it says.”
“Do you know why she did that?”
“I’m not sure. She wasn’t about to pour it all out to me over the phone. We’ve never met. Remember, she’s an academic, not a gangster. My guess is that she held back the key to locating the treasure for the right reason. She knew that if the wrong people got to it, it could be disastrous.”
“I’ll give it my best shot, but I’m wondering. If you’re right about her reason, why should she trust me?”
This time he was grinning. “I don’t know. Why did I trust you? You have that boyish innocence.”
I forced an innocent smile, and he laughed. “Then I’d better get this boyish innocence over there while it lasts. I’ll fly out tonight.”
“What can I do?”
“How well do you know Istanbul? Around the university?”
“I’ve been there.”
“Good. Can you book me a reservation at a hotel near the university? And can you get me an appointment with her tomorrow? Let’s make it in the afternoon? I better get a few hours’ sleep before this one. I know I won’t sleep on the plane.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
“I’ll need the location of her office. And her full name.”
“I’ll get it. I’ll call you this evening. Anything else?”
I sat back and looked him in the eye. “As a matter of fact, there is. If I’m going into this thing with a partner, I’d better know his full name. Might we even say his real full name?”
That brought a smile. “It would seem that for some reason, I’ve trusted you from the start. George is my real name. George Calinescu.”
I held out my hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Calinescu.”
He took my hand. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Knight.”
* * *
In my newfound freedom, I went home to Winthrop to pack for the flight instead of sneaking into Macy’s to restock. After packing, I settled into my favorite chair on our front porch with a few fingers of Famous Grouse Scotch over ice cubes made of good Boston water. I set aside fifteen solid minutes for just mindlessly looking out to sea. Graves Light was the anchor of my random focus. My attention floated gently from sails on the horizon to the occasional lobster boat fisherman pulling up traps between the near shore and Nahant.
My fifteen minutes were cut to ten by a call from George. “Where are you?”
“In the Garden of Eden.”
“My biblical history’s a bit rusty. Where might that be?”
“Right here on the shore of Winthrop Beach. I’m home. What’s up?”
“I have everything arranged. Can you take notes?”
I grabbed a pen and notebook. “Shoot.”
“I just spoke with Professor Sakim. Elena. She’s in her office at the university.”
“What’d she say?”
“I wish I could say it’ll be an easy sell. She’s willing to see you, but I wouldn’t count on her opening the store on information about the treasure.”
“Did you get a sense of why?”
“I think I was right. I believe she has strong fears about what would happen if the wrong people got hold of that treasure. I’m sure that was why she held back on translating that part of the doctor’s journal. Nothing’s changed in that respect.”
“Has anyone else asked her about it?”
“My guess is no. Both the Chinese and the Russians have been focused on getting their grubby little hands on the violin first. You know that story.”
“I do indeed. Well, that’s good. I like the idea that I’ll be the first one to talk to her. At least the ground won’t already be poisoned.”
“True. I still think you’ll need every ounce of that boyish innocence.”
“Uh-huh. Where do I meet her? And when?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. Four o’clock. She’ll meet you after her last class. She’ll be in the small outdoor amphitheater at the base of the tall clock tower. You can see the tower from anywhere on the campus. It’s a beautiful university. It’s on a sixty-acre estate. About sixty-some buildings with connecting courtyards. You can walk across the whole campus in about fifteen minutes.”
“Good. And where am I staying?”
“You have a reservation tomorrow night at the Yuva Hotel. It’s right on the shore of the Black Sea. You’ll feel at home by the water. I set you up with a rental car at the airport. It’s an easy drive to the hotel, and from there to the university.”
“That covers it. Thank you, George. I’ll keep in touch.”
“Mult noroc, my friend.”
“If that means ‘Good luck,’ I accept the wish.”
* * *
I spent what was left of the afternoon making the familiar loop with updates on my immediate plans. It was the first chance I’d had to bring Mr. Devlin in on the long-term plan I had for ending this entire adventure. Like George, he probably thought it was like shooting at the moon with a slingshot. Fortunately for me, he had been on enough improbable rides with his junior partner to suppress conveying his doubts. He just came on board with an open offer of help.
The most important assist I needed from Mr. D. was an unrelenting riding of the backside of the combative deputy district attorney, Billy Coyne, to solidify arrangements with the U.S. Attorney for witness protection for Ming Tan and her family. Mickey Chan’s case was going to get my full attention as soon as I landed back on American soil.
After the call to Mr. D., I made another to Julie to have her book me an evening flight to Istanbul.
Then I filled the rest of the afternoon with a call to Terry. Her honest trust seemed to call for a full explanation of how I hoped, planned, and prayed to tie up all the loose ends. Her support for this last inescapable venture was clearly hinged on more than a promise from me to stop playing Indiana Jones in the future. We were completely in sync, especially since both of us clearly had in mind the life that was going to make our duo a trio.
* * *
I landed at the Ataturk Airport in Istanbul early the next morning. The rental car was waiting for me for the drive along the Bo
sporus Strait to the Yuva Hotel. True to George’s word, it was right on the coast of the Black Sea. The temptation to explore the area was overcome by the need for a few hours’ sleep before my appointment with Professor Sakim.
* * *
I rehearsed my pitch as I drove through the forested hill country that surrounds Koc University. I was parked in the university’s periphery parking area by three thirty. Oddly, as I walked through the campus, I felt a resonance that I could only attribute to the fact that the entire university was designed by the Iranian-American architect Mozhan Khadem who’s headquarters are in Boston.
I found the small outdoor amphitheater at the base of the clock tower. I’d sat for about five minutes when I saw a woman I’d place in her mid-fifties in professorial slacks and jacket coming toward me. She approached with her hand out and a genuine smile.
“Mr. Knight, I presume.”
“I appreciate your meeting me, Professor Sakim. I know you’re busy.”
“As I assume are you. And yet you took the time to fly all this way for our chat.”
“I wish I were here strictly as a tourist. I love universities. This one is exquisite.”
Her smile broadened. If there was any tension, it seemed not to be on her part. “Thank you. Let’s walk. I can treat you to a cup of Turkish coffee. Perhaps some of our pastry?”
That brought instant recall of the homemade pastry I shared with Mr. Oresciu at our first meeting. There was no possibility of refusing.
Our walk through interlocking courtyards between crisply designed academic buildings was an unexpected delight. My guide illuminated the identity and significance of each building and statue with an understated but obvious pride. By the time we reached what at Harvard would be called the faculty dining hall, we were on a first name basis.
The conversation was easy. We talked of many things, but the pleasurable encounter went over the top when a student waitress brought to our table a Turkish desert called kaymakli kayisi—sweet golden dried apricots grown in Malatya, simmered in red wine, stuffed with kaymak—buffalo milk clotted cream—and coated with fragmented pistachios. To combine it with Turkish coffee, hot and strong, in the warm afternoon sun on a patio in the heart of a truly top-drawer European university is to define a setting that could only set one’s mind at peace.
High Stakes Page 21
