Once more her eyes began to fill with tears.
Miranda patted the grieving woman’s hand and turned to Gurka. He had one more question to ask.
After a moment he put his notebook away and sat forward. “Olga Nikolaevna, what was the name of the company Vladislav worked for?”
She raised her head, her eyes bloodshot and watery. “It is an MMA gym in the city. It is called Udar.”
Chapter Thirty
“Someone from that club killed Vladislav Zelenko.” Miranda said as she paced the wooden floor.
They were back in Gurka’s office mulling over what they had learned, a veil of depression settling over all of them.
Gurka rocked back in his chair. “I agree, but we have little evidence to point to his murderer.”
“We have circumstantial evidence.” From the guest chair Parker pointed to the flash drive that was still in Gurka’s spare laptop.
Miranda agreed. “That flash drive has to be what Olga was talking about. What Vlad was going to take from Udar the night he disappeared.”
“In America, that would not be enough to convict anyone,” Parker said flatly.
Gurka let out a sigh of frustration. “It is not enough here, either. Not under our new code.”
Miranda scratched at her hair and tromped over to a bookshelf. Not enough? Basically, they had no proof of anything.
A few minutes ago, Dr. Loboda had called to say she had completed the autopsy. She confirmed the cause of death as asphyxia caused by submersion in water. But she noted the bullet wound in the chest and that it had nicked the aorta. The victim would have been dead within five minutes outside the water. Otherwise Vlad had been in perfect health.
The wound was through-and-through so there was no bullet to track down. It was at the bottom of the Dnieper.
Miranda plodded over to her chair and sank down into it. “We don’t even have a crime scene. The body could have been shot anywhere along the river and floated around to the spot where it was found this morning.”
Parker steepled his hands. “So we’ll have to prove Udar’s criminal activity another way.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” Gurka said.
The technician named Anton entered the room again, carrying the cell phone. “I think I have a charge for this now, sir.”
Gurka pointed to Miranda and Anton handed it to her. She pressed the button on the side and it came to life.
“Good job,” she said to Anton.
The young man’s cheeks went red and he studied his shoes. “I did my best.”
“You did great.” She caught Parker’s sad grin.
Despite the gloom they were all feeling, he was pleased she had learned to praise subordinates after managing the team he’d put her in charge of. Besides, this guy reminded her a little of Becker.
The text on the phone was Cyrillic, of course. But she managed to find the icon for the recent calls.
She pressed it. “When did Olga say was the last day she saw Vlad?”
“The Friday after Dignity and Freedom Day,” Gurka said. “That would have been November twenty-third.”
She stared at the phone a moment, feeling as if she were looking at the call log of a ghost. “He got a call about fifteen minutes before two in the morning the next day. Saturday. Here.” She showed it to Parker then to Gurka.
Gurka scowled at it. “No name. Only a number.”
“Do you have a way of looking it up?” Parker asked.
“I do.” The Inspector turned to his keyboard and his fingers flew over it. He stopped, peered at the screen, typed some more. At last, he sat back in disgust. “It is from what you would call a burner phone.”
Miranda’s shoulders sank. “It’s untraceable then.”
“I am afraid so.” He sounded utterly defeated.
Gurka got up and took a turn around the room to work off the frustration. He stopped at the window to stare out at the square. “In Soviet times the purpose of the police, the militsiya, was to harass the citizens. Now our duty is to protect them. I much prefer this mission, but it is often a difficult one.”
“It always is when you’re in the right,” Parker told him.
Miranda could see he felt for the man. He knew the same frustration. They both did.
“In our old criminal code there was little defense for the accused. Many innocent people went to prison without recourse. But we have made progress in recent years. Now, under our new code, the case will be thrown out if there is not enough evidence for a trial. Plus there still is corruption in our court system. If Udar is powerful enough, they may bribe the judge and go free.”
That didn’t sound like progress. “Is that likely?”
Gurka gave her a dark look. “My investigation into Udar uncovered that the company was started shortly after Independence.”
“It’s been in business that long?”
The Inspector nodded. “We believe it was originally funded from Moscow, by a former KGB official.”
A chill went through her. “What does that mean?”
Parker answered for Gurka. “It means Udar may have connections to the Russian mob.”
What in the world were they getting involved in? Still, there had been two young men shot down in the prime of their lives. Miranda felt indignation start to bubble up inside her. “And so you need proof positive.”
“Exactly. As much as we can get.”
“Have you tried checking the names in that spreadsheet against your department’s database?” Parker suggested.
“Not yet, but I will get Anton to—” Without finishing his sentence, Gurka sat down at his desk, as if a brilliant thought just struck him. He brought up the spreadsheet on his standalone laptop, and began typing. After a moment he sat back as if someone had punched him in the chest. “Bozhe mіy.”
“What is it?” Miranda hopped up and peered at the screen. She couldn’t make heads or tails out of it.
Gurka raised his hand and pointed to a highlighted cell. “I searched for the name Ilya Elkovich Dudnik. And there it is.”
“The man who killed your nephew?”
“Yes.”
“Udar must have given him his manufactured identity.” Miranda turned to Parker. “Is this spreadsheet a list of all the fake names for the fake IDs they created?”
Parker tapped his chin with his finger. “So it would seem. But we still can’t prove it conclusively.”
“So the identity theft angle isn’t to steal funds from innocent people. It’s to mask the real identity of the criminals in Udar’s employ.”
Parker nodded. “If that’s so, you may have a readymade list of criminals right there on your screen, Inspector.”
Miranda agreed. “That’s what Vlad wanted to take to the police.”
Gurka rubbed his mustache as he turned the ramifications over in his mind. At last, he shook a hand at his screen. “There must be more to this data. These are only names. There must be some sort of legend explaining who these people really are and what they do for Udar.”
“And how much money they bring in,” Miranda said.
Gurka growled under his breath. “Mixed martial arts has a reputation for being brutal, but the professional organizations are not criminal. We have other gyms in the city that are perfectly legitimate. But that club, Udar, is a disgrace to the sport. They are harboring killers.”
“Creating them, so it seems,” Parker said.
Gurka turned and pointed a finger at Miranda. “You said you posed as an amateur trainee and her manager.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So you could go back there and use the same tactic to get into the club again. You could get the missing part of this file.”
Miranda could only stare at him.
Gurka stared back. “We know this flash drive came from Irina Voloshyna’s office, do we not?”
They’d told him too much at lunch. “You want us to go into that hot head’s office and steal her data?�
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“Borrow it.”
She smirked. “That’s not exactly the kind of evidence that would hold up in a court back home.”
“It would lead us to other evidence, if we knew more precisely what we were looking for. They may have records on drug drops or bank accounts or anything like that. Who knows what you might find?”
Miranda sat down, taking it in. It was darn risky. But to avenge those two young men? To bring their killers to justice? It might be worth it.
Then she turned and saw Parker’s face.
He turned to Gurka with a rock hard expression. “I’m sorry, Inspector. We’ve already put ourselves at too much risk.”
“Of course. I did not mean to impose.” Gurka’s tone dripped with sarcasm. He turned to his screen to close the file.
“Parker,” Miranda said to him softly. “We can’t leave this case this way.”
Parker leaned toward her, fire in his eyes. “At the club we visited last night there were at least a dozen well-trained, physically fit young men. If half of them are working for Udar we would be no match for them.”
Good point. They fought off two, but a whole gang of them?
Gurka brightened. “You are right, Mr. Parker. You will need fire power. And back up.”
He produced a key, opened a drawer with it, and laid two sleek black handguns on the desk before them. From another drawer, he produced several boxes of ammo.
Miranda drew in a breath as she stared down at the weapons. “What are they?”
“Fort-17s. Standard issue for our officers. They are semiautomatic with a thirteen round magazine each.”
She picked one up, checked the chamber, racked the slide, pulled the trigger a few times. “It has a nice feel. I like the grip on the handle.” She put it back down on the desk.
Parker remained silent.
“I will have men stationed around the building. And as I told you, I have a man inside as well. I just need to know what time you will be there.”
Miranda heard a rumble from Parker’s chest. He did not like being pushed.
But finally, he picked up one of the Fort-17s and studied it himself. After a moment, he slipped it into his pocket with the ammo. “Miranda and I need to discuss the wisdom of this venture.”
“Very well.”
“We also need some rest. We’ll go back to our hotel and will let you know what we decide. If you would kindly have one of your officers provide us a ride, we would be grateful.”
“Of course.” Gurka picked up his phone, summoned one of his minions, and after a moment there was a knock on the door.
“Yes, Inspector,” said the same officer who had fetched them this morning.
“Please take Mr. Parker and Ms. Steele back to their hotel.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Inspector.” Parker got to his feet, nodded to Miranda.
She shoved the Fort-17 into her pocket with the rest of the ammo and followed him to the door.
“And Mr. Parker,” Gurka said just before they were through it.
Parker turned back. “Yes, Inspector?”
“I want to thank you both in advance for your cooperation.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Irina Voloshyna sat at the desk in her office staring at the numbers on her computer screen.
They were fair, decent. But the man she paid tribute to would want more. She wanted more. Everything was riding on tomorrow night.
Her door opened and Sergei entered the room. Had he finally decided to come to work?
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you follow them like I told you last night?”
He sauntered over to a chair in his careless way and sat, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Those two Americans?”
“Of course, those two Americans,” she snapped. “Who else would I be talking about?”
He waved a hand in the air as if batting away a fly. “I had a couple of the recruits do that and rough them up a bit, per your orders. The woman is a fighter. She wasn’t lying about her abilities.”
“You think they are legitimate?”
“For now.”
“You are a fool, Sergei. Americans do not come to us for training.”
He shrugged. “They did not come back to the club.”
Irina huffed at him.
Men. They think they know everything. They are so cavalier, so careless. She could not afford to be careless. “If they do come back, get rid of them.”
“It could be bad for business if I run them off. They might make a stir, bring us undo attention. That would not be good with the event tomorrow.”
That thought gave her pause.
Tomorrow night was the contest in the sports arena in the city. Important for Udar. It would also be the biggest, most important transaction of her life. If it went well, she would be wealthy in her own right, not living off what her brother and father had earned. She would prove herself at last to those above her and below her.
She did not have time for those Americans.
Images flickered on her computer screen. She turned to it and saw a woman in a dark coat with a microphone standing near the Dnieper.
It was the news.
She turned up the sound and listened. The woman’s words made her chest pound.
She let out a growl.
Sergei scowled at her. “What is it now, Irina?”
She flicked a hand toward the screen. “Do you not hear? Did you not know about this?”
“About what?”
“They pulled a body out of the Dnieper this morning.”
Suddenly concerned, Sergei leaned over and watched the screen a moment. He did not say anything.
Irina shot to her feet. “Is it him? Is it?”
“It cannot be.”
This could not be happening. Not now. “Is that Vlad? Did they find him?”
“Shh,” Sergei told her, and listened to the reporter another moment. He shook his head. “The body is unidentified.”
“But they will identify it.”
“Do you know what a body that has been in the water that long looks like?”
“What does that matter?”
“They will not be able to identify him.”
“How can you be sure?”
Sergei only shook his head at her, making her want to slap him.
“What if it is Vlad? What if they find that flash drive?”
“They will not.” Disgusted, he rose and went to the door. “I have work to do.”
“Sergei,” she snapped, furious he would go before she dismissed him.
“Yes, Irina?”
Irina pointed at the computer screen where the news was now covering another story. “If this has any impact at all on our plans tomorrow night, it will be you who will have to answer to our boss.”
His cheek twitched, but he knew better than to strike back. Fixing her with a cold dark stare, he simply shook his head.
“You worry too much,” he said, and went out the door, leaving her alone with her troubles.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Back in their luxury suite in the hotel, Miranda had a hot bath and a nice long nap. When she awoke, she noticed a delicious scent coming from the sitting area.
She got up, pulled on a robe and padded into the next room.
Among the princely furnishings she discovered Parker perfectly groomed and dressed in one of his expensive suits. A small table for two stood near the ivory fireplace. He had ordered room service, and there was a sumptuous dinner waiting for her.
If they were going on this hunting expedition tonight, he was going to make sure she was well fed.
She let him seat her in a gilded chair.
After she slid in, he set a plate before her and lifted the silver cover. “Your salad, Madame.”
She laughed. “You make a pretty sexy waiter.”
He grinned slyly as he seated himself across from her and poured coffee. This time dark and rich and with no milk.
It tasted fresh and was loaded with shrimp, avocado and truffle oil. Must have cost a bunch of Euros or maybe rubles.
She took a sip of the wonderful brew. Though she was enjoying the pampering, she knew what Parker was up to.
His subtext read, Wouldn’t you like to go home and continue our exploration of fine restaurants there?
In response, she played her own little game. As if she were making small talk, she said, “That Inspector Gurka is a real trip, isn’t he?”
“Presumptuous is the word I would use.”
“Yeah.”
Her thoughts turned grim. The events of the day were still swirling in her brain. Vladislav’s body on the snowy bank of the Dnieper. Their trip to the morgue, then to the eastern side of the city. The cries of Vlad’s poor bereft fiancée. The name of the man who’d killed Gurka’s nephew in that spreadsheet.
She had to ask. “So we’re still on the case, right?”
Instead of answering, Parker took her salad plate and replaced it with a dish of delicious looking duck fillet slices over mashed potatoes. She took a bite and found the luscious tender meat drenched in a citrus cream-and-almond sauce with a touch of black garlic.
“This is heavenly, Parker,” she said, wiping her mouth.
“I’m glad you’re pleased.” He poured her more coffee and they ate a while in silence.
Finally Miranda put down her fork. Enough games.
“So?”
Parker’s dark brow rose. “So?”
“The case?”
He settled back in his chair. “Which case are we investigating, Miranda? Vladislav, Gurka’s nephew Rinat, or Sasha?”
Why was he being difficult? “Sasha, of course. It’s what your father hired us to do. But I care about the others, too. Don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. But as much as we want justice, we can’t fight every battle all over the globe.”
Vanishing Act Page 14
