by Alex Archer
Annja accepted the papers and began leafing through them. All of them were in Russian, which disappointed her.
“If you don’t have someone who can do the translations, I will be happy to provide them,” Peter offered. “I had not thought to transcribe them in English, but I thought you might like the copies.”
“Yes, thank you. I have someone who could do it, but if you have time, that would be wonderful.”
“Absolutely.” He nodded. “As to the story, it is a small enough tale, but very enigmatic. Perhaps even a bit sinister. Only a few weeks after Catherine the Great received the elephant, an attempt was made to steal it back from the Winter Palace where she was staying. Captain Argunov was there, possibly thinking even then of stealing something from the queen. Evidently the attempt made by the bandits convinced him as to what he should take.”
Annja made notes diligently on her tablet, but her attention never wavered from the young historian. He had a speaker’s natural voice and used it to enhance his tale.
“Captain Daikokuya Kodayu commanded the few surviving Japanese sailors that had sailed from Amchitka in the Rat Islands. His return home was not direct. He landed in Russia in 1784, but it was not until his audience with Catherine the Great in 1791 that he was returned home. And that audience was, strangely enough, made possible through the efforts of a Finnish-Swedish clergyman named Erik Gustavovich Laxmann. In addition to serving in the church, he was also a scientist and an explorer. Men wore many hats in those days.”
The details of the story dovetailed with what Annja had learned from the internet while awaiting Sophie and Peter. “It took Captain Kodayu a long time to get back home.”
“I think the Japanese captain had a bit of wanderlust in him, as well. It was a time when the world was new and there were so many things you simply had to see for yourself. There was no Discovery Channel after all.” Peter grinned. “I envy you all the places that you go and the things that you see.”
“Sometimes I miss the time to devote to studying,” Annja replied. “Traveling eats up a lot of hours, and you can spend weeks or months at a dig and not learn much.”
“The elephant,” Sophie reminded. “You two can talk like old women later.”
Klykov grinned and winked at the pretty ballerina.
Peter toyed with his empty wine glass. “The decision to return Captain Kodayu and his men to Japan was not entirely an act of humanitarian kindness. Queen Catherine chose to do so in hopes of opening trade with Japan. She hoped it would be an opening gambit in a new trade empire.”
“At that time, all of Asia was pretty much closed to the rest of the world,” Annja said.
“Things didn’t turn out as well as Catherine had hoped, but she did manage to establish trade relations of a sort.”
“A trading post on Dejima.” Annja had looked into the Japanese end of the trade voyages, too.
“Exactly.” Peter nodded happily. “Dejima has a fascinating history, as well. Since the Tokugawa shogunate forbade foreigners to enter Japan, and Japanese merchants wanted foreign trade, the locals dug a canal through the peninsula at Nagasaki and created an island to carry out their exchange of goods. Even then, the shogunate imposed strict rules about who came and went on the island.”
“It’s always about trade,” Annja said. “The quest for profits built roads, railways, shipping lanes and in this case, an island.”
“Yes. Catherine sent Captain Adam Laxmann, Erik Laxmann’s son, to take the Japanese crew back to Nagasaki. Meager trade was allowed in time, but it was never what Catherine had hoped it would be. Captain Laxmann brought back the elephant as part of the gifts given by the shogunate for the safe return of Captain Kodayu and his crew. Then, only weeks after Captain Laxmann’s return to Russia, bandits broke into the palace and attempted to take the elephant.”
Peter pulled out one of the papers that had a copy of a pencil drawing and placed it in front of Annja. She studied the image of robed figures armed with swords that dueled with Russian guardsmen in a great hall.
“This page was taken from Captain Argunov’s journal,” Peter said. “Captain Argunov was visiting the palace at the time, though his affair with Catherine was over—he was even involved in the fight.”
“The bandits were never identified?” Annja asked.
“No. Captain Argunov at first thought they were Japanese, but investigation into the matter revealed that they were monks from Cambodia.”
“How did he find that out?”
“As men do, Captain Argunov was telling the story over drinks in a tavern. One of the captain’s acquaintances, a Portuguese merchant named Joao Clemente, had a look at the drawings of the men and their personal effects, and identified them as Cambodian.”
“How did a Portuguese merchant know about Cambodians?” Sophie asked. Evidently parts of this story were new to her.
“Because, dear one, the Portuguese had, in their day, been ambitious traders. They had traded with Longvek and other cities of the Cambodian kingdom. The trade was given up in light of the wars between the Siamese and the second Le Dynasty, though. People often forget that Asia has been swallowed up in one war after another, which is why Japan and China remain so standoffish these days. They’ve had trouble enough inside their continent without seeking more elsewhere.”
Sipping her wine, Annja thought about the connections, turning them over in her mind, trying to fit the pieces together. Russia had been an interesting connection to make, but the thought of feudal Asia with all its various dynasties and kingdoms was even more so.
“Captain Argunov was never able to find out where the elephant came from?” Klykov asked.
Peter shook his head. “Nor have I been able to, though I have spent many days investigating. However, I may have had a breakthrough.” He glanced at Annja. “I have followed the story of the elephant of late, tracking back through the various news stories that have surfaced concerning it. I hope I did not offend, but I did want to give Sophie and Nadia Silaevae answers if I was able.”
“Certainly,” Annja replied.
“Given what I knew, and of the high profile that elephant has gotten in the United States recently, I managed to get in touch with Professor Ishii in Nagasaki in hopes that the history of the elephant might be better investigated there. I have inquired at the history department of the University of Tokyo several times before, but no one was interested.” Peter smiled ruefully. “Perhaps I would not have gotten an answer this time, but I dropped your name, Annja. Professor Ishii replied only minutes before we met here. He is open to meeting with you, and he believes he has information about the elephant.”
“He couldn’t just give you the information?”
“He would like to meet with you.” Peter reached inside his jacket and took out a sheet of paper. Professor Hamada Ishii’s name, phone number and email were all written neatly in English. “He says if you cannot come, he might be able to make arrangements.”
“What do you know about Professor Ishii?” Klykov asked.
Peter shrugged. “Only what I have read about him on the university website and in papers he has written. He appears to be very erudite and quite knowledgeable about Asian history, particularly Cambodian and Vietnamese.” He paused. “If the elephant did, indeed, come from one of those areas, he might very well know where it came from.”
Annja hoped it wasn’t that easy. She loved the chase. When things were just handed to her, a lot of the excitement was lost.
She took the paper, folded it and stored it in her tablet cover. “I’ll give him a call in the morning and see if we can work something out.”
“Perhaps,” Klykov said, “this Professor Ishii will also know why Nguyen Rao pursues the elephant so rigorously, as well. You have so many mysteries, and so few answers.”
Chapter 32
“You cannot keep p
ursuing Annja Creed, Nguyen Rao. We barely managed to get you into Moscow.”
“I am trying to catch her, Venerable Father, but the path she takes is unknown to me, and Sequeira and his minions make the task more difficult.” Rao spoke quietly on the cell phone as he rode in the backseat of the Russian cab. “I know part of the path she must yet take if she discovers the nature of the elephant, but we do not know where it will lead in the end.”
The old man was silent for a time. “We know this as well, and we have been thinking upon your suggestion to join forces with Annja Creed. You have risked your life on several occasions, and we constrain you by insisting that you continue to operate independently of her.”
Some of the tension inside Rao relaxed. Finally the elders were starting to see that they had asked him to engage on a battlefield on two fronts. Even though Annja Creed was not an enemy the way Sequeira was, she still thwarted his attempts to recover the elephant and divine the secrets that it hid.
“You feel that you can trust her?”
“I do, Venerable Father. I think Annja Creed would only wish to know what we believe the elephant holds secret. She does not intend to take that which is not hers.”
“In that we have reached agreement. Contact Annja Creed, and tell her what you know of the elephant. Perhaps together you will discover the rest of its story.”
“Thank you, Venerable Father.” Rao peered out at Moscow’s colorful nightscape. In the distance the lighted skyscrapers towered over the Volga River that snaked through the heart of the city. “Unfortunately, though I have arrived in Moscow, I do not know where Annja Creed is at this moment.”
“We have found her.”
“How?” Though he had been raised around the temple all of his life, the methods of the monks remained mysterious to Rao.
“Some of the younger members hacked into Fernando Sequeira’s computer network.”
Rao grinned at that and felt foolish. Sometimes he forgot that the temple was wired into the modern world, as well. The elders kept the doctrine and the teachings, but they availed themselves of younger acolytes that knew about the internet and electronic communications. After all, they had recruited him to follow the elephant and Annja Creed because he had his own skill set.
But another problem troubled him.
“Sequeira knows where Annja Creed is?”
“He does. He is going there now.” The monk gave Rao the name of the hotel, which Rao relayed to the cab driver.
“How far away is Sequeira?” Rao asked.
“We do not know.”
The anxiousness that had lifted returned with a vengeance. Judging from the violence Sequeira had unleashed at the Seventh-Kilometer Market, Sequeira was no longer interested in taking Annja Creed alive. The Portuguese crime lord only wanted the elephant, and no one knew for certain how much he knew about its history or where it would lead.
“We do know Sequeira is getting his information from someone named Brisa.”
“I have never heard this name.”
“Nor have we, but we will continue searching for information. Until then, be safe.”
Rao thanked the monk and thought furiously for a moment. Annja Creed was in immediate danger; in fact, he might already be too late to help her. Still, he wondered what he could do to warn her.
Then he thought of the police detective, Bart McGilley, and he realized there might be a way after all.
* * *
SEQUEIRA GLANCED UP at the impressive hotel as he strolled along the street. The downtown area was quiet in the early morning hours after the nightlife finally gave way to impending daybreak and responsibility. If Sequeira were not so pressed for time, he might have been tempted to stop at some of the clubs he had seen to enjoy the festivities.
Unfortunately, he was pressed for time, and he had his prey almost in his crosshairs. Annja Creed had arrived in Moscow hours ahead of him and had enjoyed a temporary lead, but the distance had now closed. He was upon her and she didn’t know it.
He anticipated that victory, and he wished he was leading the team inside the hotel. That wasn’t possible, though. Language was a barrier, as well as knowledge of the premises. In order to achieve the results he’d wanted, he’d had to rely on others.
Brisa had set up the liaison with a local mafia enforcer named Mikhail Kramskoi. The man trafficked in arms, and it was possible he and Brisa had met while involved in that business. Sequeira didn’t know everything that Brisa did, though he promised himself that one day he would.
A nondescript black cargo van sat across from the hotel in front of a parking garage and government building. The early hour guaranteed that no government interference would occur, and the parking-garage attendant had been paid off.
The back door of the van opened as Sequeira approached, revealing three men and one woman seated inside at a built-in computer desk. Bald and heavily tattooed on his face, neck and exposed forearms, Mikhail Kramskoi looked like the photograph Brisa had sent Sequeira over his phone.
Dressed in a black V-neck pullover with the sleeves pulled up almost to his elbows and black slacks, Kramskoi was all muscle. He stood loose and ready, a half smile on his twisted lips. Stubble lined his hard chin.
“Mr. Sequeira.” Kramskoi’s voice was a deep, pleasant baritone. His Russian accent was almost undetectable.
“Mr. Kramskoi.”
Kramskoi’s grin widened. “You may call me Mikhail. Brisa spoke very highly of you.”
“Brisa also spoke highly of you.”
“You wish to see the capture?”
“I do.”
“It would be better if you stayed away from this operation entirely. I am sure Brisa told you this.”
“Do you intend to get caught?”
“No.”
“Then I am just as safe here.”
Kramskoi grinned again. “As you wish. After all, you are paying for this.” He extended a big hand and effortlessly pulled Sequeira into the van, closing the cargo door immediately afterward.
The van was roomier than Sequeira had anticipated. He stood beside Kramskoi and they stood behind the woman operating the computer. The other two men evidently stood by as security and watched video feeds of the street coming from outside the vehicle.
The computer station had six feeds coming into the large 42-inch monitor. The views were divided into a three-by-two template and moved constantly, letting Sequeira know they were coming from cameras mounted on men inside the hotel.
“You have six men inside?” Sequeira asked.
“I have twelve men inside,” Kramskoi replied. “Only six of them are wired for video feed. Brisa said you wanted to make sure you intercepted the woman.”
“She’s proven elusive. Do not underestimate her.”
“I won’t. The people I have sent are very good at what they do.”
“You know which room she is in?”
“Yes, her and the old man. One of the night clerks has done work with me before. It was all easily arranged.”
“You were also told about the piece she is carrying?”
“They have their orders. Take the woman alive if possible, but kill her if necessary. And no harm is to come to the elephant.”
Feeling tense, Sequeira watched the video feeds as Kramskoi’s warriors crept through the hotel.
* * *
THE VIBRATION OF her sat phone woke Annja from a sound sleep. She hadn’t realized how tired she’d really been till she’d hit the bed last night. After her bath, which she’d luxuriated in, she’d taken her tablet to bed with her, thinking she would catch up on email, other leads she was pursuing and maybe even download a television show. The tablet lay nearby and she hadn’t even unpacked her backpack.
Feeling a little groggy, not as refreshed as she’d expected to be since
she and Klykov had agreed to brunch instead of breakfast, she reached for the phone. She’d planned to connect with Professor Ishii and set up a meeting time.
A glance at the viewscreen showed Bart’s photograph. She thought about letting the call go to voice mail, then felt guilty. Then she realized Moscow time was 4:30 a.m., and Bart would have known that.
So this wasn’t just a social call.
Curious, she answered. “Bart?”
“Annja, you’ve got to get out of the hotel. Sequeira knows you’re there. He’s closing in on you as we speak. Don’t ask questions. Don’t think. Just go.”
Already moving, Annja left the football jersey she slept in on, then pulled on her khakis and stepped into her boots. She shoved the sat phone into the thigh pocket of her khakis, grabbed her tablet and dumped it into her backpack, then slung the backpack over her shoulder. She sprinted for the door, not bothering with any of the rest of her things.
She barreled into the hallway, surprising a maid who was already making the rounds. She tried to remember the layout of the hotel. Klykov was on the same floor as her. She raced to that door and banged on it.
“Leonid!”
“Annja?” Klykov opened the door, looking very concerned. “Is something wrong?” To her surprise, he was already dressed for the day.
“Sequeira’s found us. We need to get out of here now.”
Klykov didn’t ask any questions. He retreated for just a moment to get his coat, then returned and joined her in the hallway. His right hand was buried in his coat pocket.
Annja led the way to the elevators in the center of the floor.
“They will be watching elevators,” Klykov objected.
“We’re seven stories up,” Annja countered. “If we use the stairwell, they’ll box us in. If we get down to the lobby, I don’t think they will try anything there. We should be safe till we reach the street.”
Klykov smiled. “Very good, Annja. Still, is chancy proposition.”
