The Pretender's Gambit

by Alex Archer

“I know.” Annja’s pulse crept up as she stood waiting for one of the six elevators to arrive.

  “Who told you Sequeira has found us.” Klykov fished his phone from his pocket with his left hand and hit a button on speed dial.

  “Bart.”

  “Your policeman friend, da?”

  “Yes.”

  “He is in New York. Someone must have told him.”

  “He didn’t say. When we get somewhere safe, I’ll ask.”

  “This is most troubling.” Klykov spoke rapidly into the phone and put it away. “Vladi stayed in hotel down the block. He will get car and meet us outside.”

  That was news to Annja. She had assumed the driver had gone home.

  “I thought it best if Vladi remained available while we were in Moscow,” Klykov said. “In light of events in Odessa.”

  The elevator on the other side of the waiting area and on the right dinged as it arrived. Annja nodded and headed for it as three young men stepped out of the cage. She watched them for any sign of trouble, but they appeared caught up in their conversation. As they approached, she smelled cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes that clung to their clothing.

  At the same time, two men emerged from farther down the hallway. One of them glanced at the elevators and spotted Annja. He called to his companion and pulled a silencer-equipped pistol out of his pocket.

  The three young men tried to scatter, but the gunman’s bullets slammed into them before they could get away.

  Annja darted into the elevator and pulled the sword from the otherwhere as Klykov joined her. One of the gunmen darted in front of the elevator before the doors could close. He had his pistol up and firing. Bullets thudded against the back of the elevator cage.

  Chapter 33

  Standing to one side of the elevator doors, taking advantage of the meager cover offered there, Klykov fired his weapon from the hip. At least two of his three rounds struck the gunman standing in the hallway while the other went wide of the target. Then a fourth round smashed into the man’s forehead and he dropped back against the opposite wall as an elevator there opened to reveal two more young men.

  The recent arrivals in that cage dodged away from the falling dead man, hesitated for just a second as he dropped among them and brought out weapons, as well. The elevator Annja and Klykov were in started to close its doors, then a hand wrapped around one of the panels and stopped them.

  With a quick flick of the sword, Annja severed the restraining fingers and punched the button to close the doors. The doors swept closed just ahead of the fusillade of rounds that cored through the doors, scattering laminate veneer and metal splinters. Annja and Klykov sheltered behind the extra thickness of the sides of the cage and that protected them.

  Calmly, Klykov replaced his partially expended magazine for a fresh one. He nodded at Annja’s sword. “Where did you get that?”

  “Found it in the elevator.” Annja felt only a little guilty and hoped that Klykov did not press her about it. Of course, they had other distractions taking place, as well.

  “This is a most strange place to leave sword.”

  “I’m just glad to have it.”

  “You are very lucky to be finding swords so easily.”

  “We seem to be finding gunmen even easier.”

  Klykov smiled and shrugged. “This is unfortunately true.” He glanced up at the digital readout as the numbers decreased. “They will have a team waiting in lobby.”

  “Yes, but we’re not taking the elevator to the lobby.” Annja hit the button for the second floor and the elevator began slowing at once. When the doors opened, she checked for gunmen, found the hallway empty except for a few obvious hotel guests and stepped out with the sword still in hand. “We’ll take the stairwell to the lobby.”

  “That is a good plan.” Klykov trailed her toward the end of the hall on that floor. His phone rang, he answered, spoke quickly and put it away. “That was Vladi. He will meet us in alley around back of hotel.”

  “He moves quickly.”

  “That is why he is good driver, and one of the reasons I hired him to chauffeur us.”

  In the stairwell, Annja checked to see if the way was clear, then, not spotting anyone, she started down. She reached the door without incident, but something whipped through her hair and tore into the wall beside her head. She ducked and spun to warn Klykov.

  The old man had already stepped out to put himself between her and the next bullet. He pointed his pistol and fired four times at the gunman leaning over the railing three floors up. At least one of the bullets struck the gunman in the face because blood obscured his features and the man fell back out of sight.

  “Go!” Klykov waved Annja to keep running.

  She pushed through the door and entered the main lobby. She held the sword down at her thigh to hide it from the handful of people occupying the chairs and sofas in the center of the room. None of them appeared to be threats, but four suspicious-looking men stood near the bank of elevators.

  The side emergency door leading out to the street was only a few feet away near a matched pair of potted plants with large leaves. Annja headed toward the door.

  At the elevators, the men turned suddenly toward the stairwell and spotted Annja and Klykov. Without warning, they lifted their weapons and opened fire. Bullets tore into the plants, ripping through the leaves and stems and shattered the massive pots, spilling earth onto the tiled floor.

  Annja hit the door’s crash bar, setting off the security alarm, and passed through, almost running over the two armed men waiting on the other side. Astonished by how quickly the gunmen had responded to her location, realizing then that someone somewhere was controlling their movements, Annja threw herself forward, following the line of the sword.

  Even though the blade was made more for slashing attacks, the point crashed through the man’s chest, through his heart and out his back. Annja released the sword as she shoved the dead man backward and willed the weapon into the otherwhere. By the time the surviving gunman recovered and took aim, Annja had pulled the sword back from the otherwhere and swung the blade across his midsection under his outstretched hands.

  Seeing the grievous wound leaking blood, the man dropped his weapon, wrapped his arms around himself as he cried out in pain and fell to his knees. He died before he took his next breath, going slack and tumbling to the ground.

  Traffic stopped out on the street as onlookers stared.

  Annja didn’t know how many street cams Moscow had these days, but she hoped she hadn’t been caught by one. Klykov followed her out, took in the dead men at a glance and kept moving to the right.

  “Quickly, Annja. We must keep moving.”

  Sparing less than a minute to pick up one of the dropped pistols, Annja ran after Klykov, surprised by his speed but catching him easily.

  Klykov shouted a warning in Russian and waved his pistol in the air, emphasizing the immediacy of the threat.

  Early morning pedestrians got the message then and ducked away from Klykov and Annja.

  Klykov instantly shifted direction and took up a stance behind a car parked at the curb. He raised his weapon and aimed at approaching gunmen who fired a volley of bullets that shattered the vehicle’s windshield. Klykov’s coat collar jerked and his fedora leaped from his head, but the old gangster never wavered. He squeezed the pistol’s trigger and one of the men dropped back, bleeding from a face or head wound.

  Annja stopped behind the next car down and let the sword return to the otherwhere. She steadied the pistol, took aim, and fired at another of the men, catching him center mass with two shots in rapid succession. He stumbled back but didn’t go down. He didn’t appear interested in continuing the battle as he swayed drunkenly on his feet.

  Glancing over her shoulder at the alley, Annja wondered where Vladi and the car
were. Then two more gunmen ran from the alley and she realized the building had been surrounded.

  “Leonid!” she called out in warning.

  Klykov turned, but Annja knew they were both caught in a bad place. Then a long black sedan wheeled from the street and drove into the two men, knocking them away before they could open fire. The car rocked to a stop and Vladi got out with a pistol in each hand. He shouted at Annja and Klykov to get inside the big car.

  Racing to the sedan, Annja opened the rear door and clambered in, followed almost at once by Klykov as scattered shots slammed into the vehicle but did not penetrate the interior.

  Vladi slid behind the wheel again, tossed his pistols into the passenger seat beside him and pulled the transmission into Drive. He roared forward along the alley. He glanced into the rearview mirror and shook his head in apology.

  “Sorry. Traffic this morning was terrible.”

  Annja reached forward and patted the chauffer on the shoulder. “Thank you, Vladi.”

  He shrugged. “Is no problem. Now where you want to go?”

  * * *

  IN DISBELIEF, SEQUEIRA watched the black car race along the alley, carrying Annja Creed and the elephant away from him. He glared at Kramskoi. “These were your best people?”

  “Other than myself, da.” The man didn’t look any too happy either. “This is Moscow. She cannot go anywhere I will not find her. I will be in touch when I locate her again.” He opened the cargo door. “There is no payment till I settle this matter.”

  Sequeira nodded and stepped out of the van. He texted Brisa. SHE GOT AWAY.

  I KNOW.

  ARE YOU STILL TRACKING HER?

  OF COURSE.

  Sequeira took a deep breath and felt only a little relieved. He could hardly wait to put a bullet through Annja Creed’s heart.

  * * *

  LOOKING AT ALL the debris and the Moscow law enforcement surrounding the streets where the violence in the hotel had spilled over, Rao was again surprised at Annja Creed’s propensity to survive in life or death situations. He stood in front of the parking garage across the street from the hotel. Wind tugged at his jacket and ran cold fingers along his exposed flesh. Judging from the violence that had taken place, she should have died a dozen times over.

  His phone rang and he answered.

  “This is Bart McGilley.” The detective did not sound pleased.

  “She got away, Detective McGilley,” Rao replied.

  McGilley let out a relieved breath. “I haven’t heard from her. Is she okay?”

  “I believe so, although several of her assailants are not.” Rao watched an emergency medical team remove yet another body on a stretcher while a crowd stood by to observe.

  “Sequeira’s people?”

  “No, these appear to be local criminals, judging from the few conversations around me I have been able to understand. Perhaps Sequeira hired them to apprehend Annja Creed. I cannot see any other reason these men would have gone after her.”

  “Her work has turned out to be a lot more involved than I had known.”

  “Yes.”

  “Look, you called me and I was able to alert her, so I owe you, but I need to know how you fit into this.”

  “I want the elephant, Detective. That is all I have wanted from the beginning.”

  “Why?”

  “That I may not tell you. There are some secrets I must keep.”

  McGilley cursed.

  Rao turned from the scene. “I would earn your continued support in this matter if I may, Detective. I give you my promise that I wish no harm to Annja Creed. I have acted to save her when I have been able.”

  “I know Annja. She’s not going to give up that piece until she figures it out or she has no choice.”

  “The people I serve have come to realize this and they have allowed me permission to share with her the information I have. If she will permit that.”

  “She doesn’t trust you. And I don’t know that I do either.”

  “Then we are at an impasse. You wish Annja Creed to have protection while she investigates the elephant, and I am limited in what I can do to aid her if she continues to view me as a threat.”

  McGilley hesitated. “I’ll talk to her, but I can’t guarantee that she will listen. She tends to have her own mind about things. Which is one of the reasons I like her. But I promise you now, if you’re lying to me and you hurt her or get her hurt, I will find you and there will be a reckoning.” He hung up.

  Replacing the phone in his coat, Rao couldn’t help feeling that he and Annja Creed were both in small boats on a treacherous sea with no safe harbor in sight.

  * * *

  “PROFESSOR ISHII?” ANNJA walked into Domodedovo International Airport, thinking that using Moscow’s other large airport might be a good idea. Sequeira was somehow trailing her so easily. She hadn’t yet returned Bart’s phone calls because she’d been busy watching her back and trying to get in touch with the history professor.

  She felt a little safer inside the terminal with all of the security around them, though she knew Klykov wasn’t so happy without a weapon close to hand. He’d had to abandon his. Again, he’d pointed out. There had been no sign of Sequeira, but Annja knew that the man and his enforcers were out there somewhere.

  “Hai, this is Professor Ishii.” The man’s voice sounded strong and authoritative. “To whom am I speaking?”

  “Annja Creed. You had left word you wanted to speak to me, and I would like very much to speak to you.”

  “Ah, this is good, Creed. We are in agreement regarding our need to meet. You have the elephant in your possession, yes?”

  “I do.” As she admitted that, Annja couldn’t help glancing around to see who might be listening.

  “I had heard you have had some trouble keeping it.”

  “I have.”

  “I see. Are you safe now?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Can you come to Tokyo?” Ishii’s voice remained level and unchanged, but Annja detected the keen interest in his words more because he sounded so calm.

  “I can be there tomorrow. I haven’t yet secured tickets, but most likely I can get there by the morning. If that’s acceptable.”

  “But of course. I will clear my schedule for this day and the day after. And, if need be, for longer, as well.”

  Annja thought, all things considered, the offer was being overly generous, and she wanted to know why. “What do you know about the elephant, Professor Ishii?”

  “Enough that I look forward to seeing you, Creed. Unfortunately, there is much about that elephant, if it is the one I believe it to be, that I do not know, but I have stories to share with you. And perhaps a path you may follow that will lead you to the rest of the history.”

  “Maybe you could give me a preview.”

  “And spoil the surprise?” Ishii laughed good-naturedly. “You will find what you are looking for in Nagasaki, Creed, not the final answer you seek, but enough to put you onto the last trail you will need to follow. I promise.”

  Despite her wariness, Ishii’s words made Annja tingle in anticipation. “All right.”

  “Email me the details of your flight and I will happily meet you at Haneda Airport.”

  Annja promised she would and hung up.

  * * *

  “DO YOU GROW weary of my companionship, Annja?” Klykov gazed at her guilelessly. He knew perfectly well that he was trying to guilt her. “Is that why you’re suggesting I remain behind now?”

  “No. I just think that you’re not going to fit into Japan as well as you do Brooklyn, Ukraine and Moscow.” Annja sat across a small table at one of the restaurants in the terminal. They had dined on a Russian menu that was far better than she had expected, then followed it with Ki
ssel a la Russe made with raspberries and cream.

  “I will fit in where I need to fit in,” Klykov declared. “You should not be alone.”

  “I’ve often been alone. I work better that way. I mean no disrespect, and you have been very helpful.”

  “Then tell me I am holding you back and I will be gone.”

  Gazing at the old man, Annja knew her suggestion, made as politely as she could, had stung Klykov’s pride. She tried to harden her heart and let him know that she didn’t intend for him to risk his life on her behalf anymore, but that was difficult. Klykov had helped her throughout Ukraine and Russia. In fact, she figured things might have gone much differently in those places had he not been along.

  “I can’t tell you that because it wouldn’t be true.”

  “Good.” Klykov smoothed his coat. “I am not some old man to be put on a shelf and left to wither away.” His eyes twinkled. “Well, perhaps I am old, but I prefer a life of adventure. Tell me truly, Annja, were you my age, would you not want to chase after adventure if it came your way?”

  Annja made no reply, but she knew Klykov knew what her answer would be.

  “Then allow me the same privilege. This undertaking has been exhilarating. Do not seek to push me away when we are so close to the goal that you seek.” Klykov looked humbled. “Would you break an old man’s heart so willfully?”

  Unable to stop herself, Annja burst out laughing loud enough to attract the attention of nearby diners.

  “What?” Klykov demanded, and he even managed a look of indignation.

  “That,” Annja said, “is the biggest con job I’ve heard in a long time.”

  Klykov tried to hold his stern face, but a few seconds later, he was laughing, too. “So,” he said when they regained themselves, “I am allowed to come?”

  “What if I said no?”

  “I would come anyway.”

  “That much was obvious.”

  “I am not a man to be denied without concentrated effort. Possibly even physical restraint.” Klykov shrugged. “You already have several people following you. Doubtless I would be lost in the crowd, but at least I would be on your side when those others are not. My presence could be very useful.”