Khitarov studied Archie contemplatively through the cloud of smoke created by his latest cigarette. “Today is good day. Much work done. Vladimir Alexeev coming back here and we now have Vor picture for database. Tonight we go to casino to get film from safe.”
Archie marvelled at how Khitarov, with his distinctive yet gentle baritone, was able to make himself heard above the noise of printers, telephones and the din of his colleagues themselves. It reminded Archie of the saying, ‘if you want to be heard, whisper.’ For his part, he found he had almost to shout in reply. “Will that mean breaking into the bodyguard’s office or will we be on official police business?”
“Archie, what do you think? You in Russia now. We can do it easy way or hard way.”
“What do you mean?”
Easy way is to break in. Hard way is to show police identification. Doors will shut for us.”
Archie was nonplussed. This was policing as he had never known it. “What do you suggest we do?”
“We rent nice clothes, we go to casino, we get film from office.”
“Okay, bro’, whatever you say.” Archie was feeling too rough to care. At this point, he only hoped he could stay awake long enough to go out that night.
Khitarov and Archie both looked up as Burgess approached.
“Hey, bro’, how did it go?” Archie’s tired, bloodshot eyes met his as he spoke.
Burgess shrugged, managing a smile. “A helluva lot better than any meeting with our superintendent.”
Archie showed him the computer-generated pictures of the Vor sent over from Bermuda and then filled him in on Khitarov’s plans for their evening.
Burgess surprised Archie by saying, “I don’t mind going to the casino but I need to get some shut-eye beforehand. We’ll need to be razor sharp for an operation like that.”
Amazed at the way Burgess had accepted the mission with no second thoughts, he turned to the Russian. “Hey, Khitarov, where can we rent evening dress for tonight?”
“You ask people in hotel. They will know. I pick you up at 11:00 o’clock. Go to hotel and sleep. If I get lead on this picture, I call. If not, see you tonight.”
Both Archie and Burgess were grateful for the opportunity to escape to their comfortable hotel rooms. Even though they had behaved quite outrageously since their arrival, they had also made headway on the case. At least, that was their story and they intended sticking to it. They both bade their farewells to those in the department and made their way outside to hail a cab.
CHAPTER 56
Alexeev was not a happy man. He sat in a Mallorquin police holding cell, which contained a bunk bed with a thin mattress. There was no latrine and it embarrassed him to continually request the toilet. A guardia would escort him there, waiting for him outside. He found the whole affair mortifying. To make matters worse, he began to experience all the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal, breaking into sweats and suffering from delirium tremens, hands shaking uncontrollably. He hated the sour smell of his body and could probably have knocked out the guardia just with his breath. To add insult to injury, the weather was glorious; he could see clear blue skies out the window and hear the birds twittering joyfully as the heat of the day began to rise. At this point, he had no idea what was going to happen to him and, now that he was becoming sober again, fear and anxiety were his constant companions.
He would have become even unhappier had he known what delight his apprehension had brought to the Moscow police and, even more fearful, had he known that a certain Vor awaited his arrival with eager anticipation. This Vor had received the information from a police informant in Khitarov’s division, who had proven helpful in the past and been well rewarded. He would receive a further large sum of money once he uncovered and divulged the arrival date and Moscow location of the director. The Vor, however, knew the value of patience and preferred to wait until Alexeev was back in his territory, rather than go after him in a foreign country. He also knew the Guardia Civil was military in nature and trained to deal with terrorists. Not only did they have the training but they had the weaponry too. No, better to wait until Alexeev was back on his turf. He had enough officers on the payroll in the Moscow police to ensure he would get his man - sooner or later. He rather hoped it would be sooner. He wanted to keep his promise to his girlfriend: capture and mete out justice to the man responsible for her young daughter’s exploitation and murder.
Alexeev looked up as the guardia entered the cell.
“Come with me.”
He dutifully accompanied him to an interview room, where he was met by a tall, impeccably dressed Spaniard with striking features. They shook hands and Alexeev felt intelligent eyes appraise him.
“Are they treating you okay?” His English was flawless, with only a hint of an accent.
“I can’t complain but I’d like a shower and change of clothes.”
“That can be arranged. My name is Joaquín Soto Alvarez. I am a lawyer and I work with Interpol. Your presence has been requested back in Moscow and we are putting together the paperwork to enable you to return to your country, where you will be charged with the murder of Eva Sidorova.”
Alexeev gasped. Although he had no idea which one of the girls she was, he understood that his life, as he knew it, had now come to an end. No more would he travel on his private jet, sail his yacht to exotic locations, cavort with adoring young starlets, drink champagne with highflyers or rub shoulders with Russian politicians and billionaires. He hung his head as his eyes filled with tears, not of remorse but of self-pity. Alexeev was not a man given to introspection nor did he have a conscience. His life was all about him: his success, his pleasures, his excesses and his comforts. Now, he realized, he was about to rejoin the real world and pay for his actions. He knew there would be those who would delight in seeing him brought down. He had treated many badly in the film industry and they would revel in his humiliation and glory in his fall from grace.
“When will I leave for Moscow?” Shoulders slumped, voice brittle, the director cut a pathetic figure. Soto Alvarez almost felt sorry for him but, in his line of work, had met with war criminals and other bottom feeders who, when the chips were down, looked equally pitiful. Knowing, however, how they had behaved towards their fellow man, the lawyer had long ago become inured to their apparent distress.
“You will leave in the next day or so.”
“So soon?”
“Yes, do you have a problem with that?”
“No,” breathed the broken man. How could he tell him he would be thrown to the sharks once he was home? How could he explain that to this clean-cut, earnest and well-meaning man with a zeal for processing fugitives for Interpol… to this handsome do-gooder? He would never understand.
CHAPTER 57
The hotel lobby was abuzz with tourists. Archie and Burgess quickly made their way to reception to ask for assistance with the rental of evening dress. An attractive young blonde attended them. Archie leaned towards her, deciding she was truly worthy of one of his famous charm attacks. Flashing his trademark lady killer grin, he inquired how they could rent tuxedoes for the evening. Cobalt blue eyes gazed back at him and wrote directions in Russian for them to hand to the taxi driver. Archie was smitten.
“I am glad to see you have both recovered,” she called after them.
“What do you mean?” Archie turned back, puzzled.
“You did not look so good at four o’clock this morning.”
“You saw that?” Now Archie was feeling less sure of himself.
“Oh yes, I did the late shift and stayed on a bit longer today. Enjoy your evening tonight.”
Burgess hid a smile as Archie moved away, clearly embarrassed that she had seen him not at his best in the wee hours of the morning.
“Hey, bro’, did I do anything stupid when we went through reception last night?”
“Like I’d remember? Console yourself with this. You were in good company.”
They made their way out to Tverskaya Street to hail ano
ther Moscow cab. Burgess reflected that he was not looking forward to submitting his expense report to the superintendent but at least they were paying in rubles.
As the two detectives were busy trying on dinner jackets in a small Moscow tailor’s shop, Pamela, De Souza and Skinner were drinking coffee and eating sandwiches in the murder room. Pamela was reading them Burgess’s e-mail regarding the capture of Alexeev and their progress thus far. He had, of course, left out the part that they had illegally entered the bodyguard’s apartment and completely failed to mention that they were going to break into his office at the casino that evening. His team was all delighted and began planning De Souza’s next report to the superintendent.
Skinner, whose secondment was coming to an end, was eager to be of help. “I think you should show him the computer-generated identikit pictures and let him know that these have been circulated to Interpol and the Russians direct.”
“Oh, you bet I will. They’re great pics, by the way. I don’t know how you managed to put them together but they’re so much better than those sketches we’ve had to work with in the past.” De Souza wanted to let Skinner know how much they had appreciated all his work on the murders. “We’re going to miss you when you go back to the private sector. Sure you don’t want to halve your salary and stay with us?”
“You’re putting me on the spot with that hard sell. I’ve really enjoyed working with you all.” His glance slid towards Pamela and the action was not missed by the ever-observant De Souza. “I need the money I get from the private sector to pay my mortgage but I sure do love the cut and thrust of homicide.”
“I know.” Pamela smiled. “It’s a little like working for one of the international companies … only less violent! Anyhow, you know where we are. Maybe you can consult from time to time.”
“That’s really a great idea. I could see whether I could get permission to do that from my company.” Skinner suddenly looked brighter.
“Back to the superintendent,” Pamela wanted to return to the topic of handling their big boss. “De Souza, why don’t you also tell him about the fact there is a DVD implicating Alexeev and that Buddy and Archie plan on collecting it tonight. You could also tell him a bit about the bodyguard’s confession. At least we now know and will soon have proof, that he killed the girl, with Alexeev as his co-conspirator.”
“Yes,” agreed the sergeant. “That should keep the superintendent happy for another day or two. As long as he doesn’t want to hold any more press conferences... Did you see what a mess the government made with the one about the Minister for Information? The jokes that have been flying around the internet about that. What an idiot. How could he say he was resigning for health reasons? That was just too ridiculous for words. Do they think the public are stupid?”
Pamela laughed. “Jacintha told me Buddy’s grandmother listens to the People’s Corner every afternoon. If you want to know what’s really going on, then that’s the show to listen to. No one is backward in coming forward with an opinion or two on just about everything local. Anyway, according to Nana, the entire show erupted into a total comedy. She said people were making one hilarious comment after another. The minister will never be able to show his face on this island again without everybody laughing behind his back. Talk about humiliation on a grand scale; he’s regarded now as half-pervert, half-buffoon.”
De Souza nodded and chuckled. “That’s what happens when you live on a small island. If you screw up, everyone is going to know about it and you can be scarred by your mistakes for life.”
“Tell me about it.” Pamela was warming to the discussion. “My aunt, who is a pillar of society, married to my uncle with three great kids, once when she was nineteen, moved in with some guy who smoked pot. Well, I can tell you, there are some dowagers who even today refer to her as ‘that girl who moved in with a deadbeat and smoked dope’. It was the sixties, after all. Anyway, she’s never been able to live that down.”
“That’s why I left the island and went to university in Canada,” interrupted Skinner. “It’s best to do all your experimenting and growing up off-island.”
“Well, tell me more, you two. I’m beginning to find all this very interesting,” De Souza chimed in. “Should I be making any belated arrests?”
Pamela could not resist asking, “Did you ever do anything wild?”
“Are you kidding? I grew up in the Azores. You practically had to court your girlfriend standing outside her window. You could look but not touch. I have no regrets, though.” He looked momentarily thoughtful. “Anyway, enough of this. Do you think we have overlooked anything with regard to these murders?”
“I’d like to go through the file once more on the Bambases. I have a nagging feeling I may have forgotten something.” Pamela was determined to be as thorough as her colleagues.
“Okay.” De Souza began to gather the remains of his lunch. “You know the power of re-reading files, reports and our notebooks with fresh eyes. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
They all stood up, collecting tin foil and coffee cups and made their way out of the murder room.
CHAPTER 58
“Bond, James Bond.”
“Oh, cut it out, Archie. Put you in a dinner jacket and you go completely overboard.” Burgess was laughing in mock exasperation.
“Well, I’m feeling pretty cool in these duds.” Archie spun around in front of the elevator’s mirrored wall, looking debonair in his tuxedo and bowtie. “I just hope it’s not like Las Vegas and everyone’s wearing jeans.”
After a couple of hours in a deep and restorative sleep, they had decided to take a coach tour and spent the afternoon visiting Red Square and some of the sights of Moscow. They had managed to see the Kremlin, Lenin Hills, Bolshoi Theater, Christ the Savior’s Cathedral, as well as some of the smaller streets and squares of the city. Burgess had been entranced by the department store GUM, with its ornate façade and contrasting modern interior – all light and glass roofing. There he had bought an exquisitely painted icon of the Madonna and child for Nana and, for Jacintha, he had chosen a brightly coloured, beautifully embroidered silk shawl he knew she would love. Archie had purchased some of the famous Russian painted wooden dolls to give to several of the ladies in his life. It was a profitable three hours and gave them a taste of what they might want to see in more depth, when time permitted. They secretly thanked Pamela for booking them on Tverskaya Street, learning from the tour guide that it had started life as an ancient trade route from Moscow to Tver and St. Petersburg. Serving as the main artery for Moscow, it was always easy for them to find their way back to the hotel. As the day wore on, both detectives found themselves approaching the evening’s mission with a renewed sense of purpose, accompanied by the ever-present and, by now, familiar tingle of apprehension residing like an unwanted guest in the pit of their stomachs.
Down in the lobby, Burgess put through a call to Bermuda to update them on their plans and arrange for a call-in time the next day. He then dialled Jacintha’s cell phone and left her a cheery greeting and a promise to call at the same time the next day. Putting away his cell phone, he caught a glimpse of an imposing figure at the entrance – Khitarov, resplendent in evening dress, with his normally unruly hair slicked back to give him a distinctly Hollywood air. “Bro’, check out Khitarov.” He nudged Archie.
They made their way over to their new Russian friend, greeting him like long-lost buddies, with much laughter and commentary on his new appearance. Khitarov, not to be outdone, gave them as good as he got. Emotions were riding high as they made their way to a waiting stretch limousine.
“Khitarov, who’s paying for all of this?” Archie exclaimed in delight, whilst Burgess prayed it would not end up on his expense account.
“Shhh. We undercover, so we have to play part. Driver is friend of mine. Owe me favor.” In rapid-fire Russian, he gave casino’s address to the driver. Before moving off, the driver turned to the three men and gaily tipped his hat to them with his white-gloved
hand. They all laughed in a release of tension and settled back for the drive to Alexeev’s casino. What would the famous film director have thought if he knew this bastion for the rich, famous and infamous was about to be invaded by three lowly detectives?
Back in Bermuda, Jacintha listened to her messages and snapped her phone shut in irritation. She must have missed Buddy’s call by mere minutes. She had been washing up after an autopsy on a young man who had died from diabetes and had not heard the phone ringing in her jacket pocket. Now she would have to wait another twenty four hours before he called again. Jacintha knew how disappointed Nana would be when she got home that evening without all the latest news about Moscow and the intriguing Khitarov. Nana had taken a particular shine to him, based on a somewhat embellished description from Burgess. No doubt, in her imagination, the Russian police detective had taken on the proportions and appearance of some romantic character in ‘War and Peace’. At least, she reflected, she could tell Nana that Burgess had specifically mentioned in his message that he had found his grandmother the perfect gift from Russia.
A few miles away, Pamela was busy looking through the files once more. She was re-reading the autopsy report on Mr. Bambase provided by Jacintha when she suddenly froze. There, clear as day, was the detail and comment regarding the wounds to Mr. Bambase’s face: “Consistent with a ring bearing some sort of raised emblem, such as a cross and most likely worn on the right index finger.” She had forgotten that detail and it could be significant. Immediately, she crossed to the murder room and scanned the whiteboards. There, for all to see, was the notation. How could she have missed that? Firing up her computer again, she hastily drafted an e-mail to Khitarov, flagging this fresh detail for addition to the picture and profile of the Bambases’ unknown assailant. With a sigh of relief, she powered down her computer, gathered her belongings and said her goodbyes to the cleaners. It was getting late but finally the nagging feeling had left her. Wait till she told Skinner. She was now ready for that nice glass of crisp white wine over at his place.
Never to Dead to Talk (Detective Inspector Burgess Series) Page 18
