Rogue Angel 51: The Pretender's Gambit

by Alex Archer

  “You know, I’m beginning to think that the more I know about what you do, the less I like what you do.”

  “I love what I do.”

  “Look out for Sequeira. He’s bad news. He’s supposed to have someone who’s good at making people disappear. It’s possible that’s the person who whacked Calapez and Pousao in front of the precinct. Until we get the middle guy, it’s going to be hard to connect Sequeira to those murders. But we think we have a lock on Calapez and Pousao for the murder of the neighbor across the street. Having a homicide on the sheets changes the game and I can now go after Sequeira harder if I’m somehow able to put him with Calapez and Pousao. As you’ll recall, though, they’re not talking.”

  Annja heard the annoyance in Bart’s voice and sympathized. “Before I ask for that favor, let me see if I can do one for you. Would your Interpol buddies have a working relationship with the police in Odessa?”

  “They might.”

  “If I can get hold of Onoprienko, maybe I can hand him off to local authorities who will get him to you.”

  “No. Do not do that. Onoprienko is a killer. You’ve seen some of his work firsthand. Forensics confirmed that the blunt object used to kill Maurice Benyovszky was the hammer we found in Onoprienko’s apartment. Do not get around this guy.”

  “If he has the elephant, that’s going to happen. If I get the chance to capture him—”

  “Do not!”

  “—I was thinking it would be good to have someone to hand him off to.” Annja paused. “Unless you’d rather I just let him go.”

  Bart sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. You said you needed a favor?”

  “Yes. The storage unit the elephant came from belonged to a man named Asaf—”

  “Chislova. Yeah, we know, Annja. Sometimes we’re pretty good at doing our jobs, too.”

  “I can put you in touch with the granddaughter.”

  “We’ve got her name, too.”

  “Well, then here’s the favor. The granddaughter didn’t know about the storage unit, or that it was lost. All she knew is that a lot of her grandfather’s things disappeared. She’d like to have a few of them as keepsakes.”

  “Sure, I can arrange that. Benyovszky still had some of that stuff in the storage unit he was using as a warehouse for the goods he was selling on the internet.”

  “Thanks. And if you can work out something in Odessa, let me know who I should call.”

  “What you should do is turn around and come back to New York.”

  Annja smiled, enjoying the fact that Bart cared, but she had her own calling to tend to. “That’s not going to happen. I’ll be in touch when I can.”

  * * *

  RAO WOKE AND had the distinct feeling someone was watching him. Without moving, he scanned the economy-class section of the plane, but there were no faces familiar to him that he could see. He sat up a little straighter and looked in the back section.

  Most of the passengers had nodded off, giving in to the long flight. Only a few people remained awake. The adults worked on computers, probably preparing presentations or crunching numbers for a project. The kids played video games with rapt attention.

  Unbuckling his seat belt, Rao walked back to the bathroom to get a better look at everyone. No one seemed to have any undue interest in him, but the feeling that he was being watched persisted.

  Although he couldn’t pinpoint the watcher, Rao was certain that he and Annja Creed were not alone on the flight.

  Chapter 22

  As the passenger jet began its approach to Odessa, Annja peered out the window and watched the large city grow closer. Odessa had always been an important port city on the Black Sea and in the surrounding region. It was one of the few warm-water ports in the area, and it had been a point of territorial aggression for hundreds of years.

  Residential and business areas occupied neat blocks and geometric shapes marked off by tree-lined streets. The verdant growth was so robust that it looked like the commercial structures had sprouted trees, or that the trees were threatening to climb over the buildings. Nature and industry warred over space, and in that Annja saw a reflection of Odessa’s restless past.

  Along the coast, docks thrust out into the harbor. Massive cranes moved like giant robotic arms to clutch cargo containers from the decks of ships and carry them to the docks where stevedores waited to move the goods where they belonged. A few boats sailed the water out beyond the commercial area marked off by buoys.

  “Tell me what you see, Annja.”

  Annja glanced over her shoulder at Klykov. He’d woken up shortly before the jet had begun its descent. “I thought you’d been to Odessa before.”

  Klykov smiled. “I have. Many times. But I’m not talking about what you see below. Everybody sees that. That look I saw in your eyes in the reflection in the glass tells me you are looking at more than what is out there. Tell me what you see.”

  “Odessa was settled by the Greeks. Some of the artifacts that have been found in the eastern Mediterranean are from the same time period as those found here. So I can see the Greeks here, flourishing with fields of olives and beautiful buildings.”

  “Then where are these buildings?”

  “They would have been destroyed by the Pechenegs and Cumans, the ancestors of the Ottoman Empire that fought so hard to reclaim Odessa. They won it back for a time, then lost it again to Catherine the Great. Sometime before Catherine’s armies took this place, the Mongols were led by Batu Khan, who was the grandson of Temujin, who became the greatest threat the civilized world had ever known at that time.”

  “I do not know this person.”

  “Temujin was known by another name. Genghis Khan.”

  Klykov nodded. “That name I do know.”

  “Batu Khan formed the Ulus of Jochi, and they were also known as the Golden Horde.”

  “Because they came to rob the gold?”

  “No. Because of the color of their tents.” Annja could almost see the Mongol campsites that had littered the hills. She could imagine the burning villages along the coast, the survivors huddling in fear at the savagery the invaders had displayed. “The Mongol language translates their name literally into Golden Horde, which some people think was due to the color of their tents, but for Mongols it probably simply meant ‘central camp.’ But legends grow up around such things. After the Mongols, the Ottoman Empire claimed the area.”

  “Why?”

  “For the same reason Odessa is so important today. It’s a warm-water port this far north. Trade can get through. The military can get in. Back before planes changed the geography of war, the lines were drawn by accessibility. You can’t march an army into enemy territory without a supply line. Once you get into Ukraine, you can go east into Russia, or west into Europe. The country has been in the center of some particularly nasty military operations, and many of them were staged here.”

  The seat-belt sign flashed on, followed by the captain’s orders to buckle them.

  Annja secured her seat belt, still lost in the history of the place, aware that Klykov was listening intently. “For a while, the Ottoman Empire took control of the city, but they couldn’t hold it against the Russians. Catherine the Great named the city Odessa because they believed it was the site of the Greek city Odessos. Later, historians found out that probably wasn’t accurate. Odessos was more likely over in Bulgaria, near Varna. Catherine built the city on the bones of Khadzhibey, the prior Turkish town. The Ottoman Empire and Catherine the Great fought over Odessa for a while, but Catherine’s forces held the city.”

  The plane banked and began a sharper descent. Below, the surface of the Black Sea grew close enough to see the chop of the waves.

  “You know many things, and it is interesting to hear them.” Klykov’s eyes twinkled and his smile was broad. “You have a remarkable mind, young lady.”

  Annja shook her head. “What’s remarkable is history. Anyone who studies it can open up whole worlds, each different and exciting. They can
be as small as an Englishwoman trying to make a living after the Napoleonic War when the men returned from the army, or as large as the World War II campaigns. I can take someone from now and put them in the shoes of someone who lived thousands of years ago, show them that the daily concerns and needs and fears are pretty much the same. Despite the fact that hundreds or thousands of years separate a person of today from someone in the past, if I do it right, they can feel what it’s like to live that person’s life. That’s why I love what I do.”

  “It is always good to have passion. I have always said this. Life without passion is nothing.” Klykov looked through the window once again. The jet sailed on toward the airport, and the runway was only a few feet below them. “Soon we will have that elephant you are searching for, and then you will find more stories to tell, da?”

  “I hope so.” The jet’s tires hit the runway and Annja resisted the forward momentum the reduced airspeed caused.

  * * *

  WHILE WAITING AT the car rental agency, Klykov called his contact, Fedotov the fence, and talked quickly in Russian. Annja couldn’t pick up enough of what was said to know for certain what was going on. She tried not to let herself become anxious, but that was difficult. There was no way to know if Onoprienko was going to actually show up at the place, or if Fedotov could keep Onoprienko there.

  There was also the possibility that Fedotov would tell Onoprienko that people were there looking for him so that he could renegotiate the amount he’d agreed to pay for the elephant. The fence was a thief, after all.

  While she stood a short distance away, a Hispanic woman approached her with a travel book in one hand and a hopeful expression on her face. She was in her midthirties, dressed conservatively and wore little makeup. She didn’t need it. She was a pretty woman without it. She wore her hair cropped short and stood almost as tall as Annja.

  “Pardon me,” she said in English with a definite Western accent. “Have you been to Odessa before?”

  “I have.”

  “It’s my first time and I feel pretty lost.”

  “Where are you trying to go?”

  “I’m supposed to meet some friends at a restaurant called Ode to Odessa?”

  Annja nodded. “I’ve been there. It’s a good place to eat. It’s located just a short distance off Deribasovskaya Street.”

  “That’s one of the main streets?”

  “Yes. It’s in the center of the city.”

  Annja found the restaurant on the map easily and pointed to it. “Here. Are you taking a cab or a rental?”

  “I was thinking of renting a car.”

  “Okay, in that case you’ll need to plan your parking. Deribasovskaya Street is purely pedestrian traffic.”

  “All right. Thank you.”

  “If you’ve got time later, I’d advise a sightseeing trip to the park.” Annja shifted her finger to another place on the map. “The park was built at the turn of the nineteenth century. There are a lot of monuments to document the city’s history, including a sculpture of a lion and lioness with cubs.”

  “For The Twelve Chairs, right? The story about the hidden jewelry?”

  “You know your literature.”

  The woman laughed. “I teach at San Antonio, Texas’, English Department. Emphasis on foreign literature. I read the book on the plane during the flight. I’m here for a conference on Russian lit.”

  Annja nodded. “Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “Thank you. And you do the same.” She smiled and walked away, merging with the foot traffic leaving the terminal. Thinking about the park and the restaurant, Annja wished she was there on a less stressful agenda. She’d enjoyed her time in Odessa, and there was still so much of the city she hadn’t seen.

  Finally, Klykov hung up and turned to Annja with a smile. “You are tour guide, da?”

  “I don’t mean to be, but I like this city.”

  “Maybe we will take a day or two after we get the elephant for you. A celebration.”

  “Only if we have something to celebrate.”

  “Fedotov says Onoprienko has been in touch with him. Onoprienko is in the country now. He has been for a couple of hours. So far Fedotov has been able to keep Onoprienko waiting.”

  “Is Onoprienko there with your friend?”

  “Annja.” Klykov’s face turned grim. “Something you must keep in mind. Fedotov is no friend of mine. He is an acquaintance. A man who does business, who keeps his eye on the bottom line at all times. You understand this, da?”

  Annja nodded.

  “I am sure Fedotov will not betray us or I would never endanger you by taking you there. Fedotov has no real honor, but he does have a very strong self-preservation instinct. He likes to live and he likes to eat. He knows that if he tries to betray me, I will have him killed.” Klykov didn’t try to put a polite face on things. That should have bothered Annja more than it did, but these were dangerous men. “Even if I do not live through his betrayal, Fedotov’s death would come as surely as winter in Russia.”

  “I understand, Leonid. Don’t worry about me so much. I can take care of myself.” Annja thrust her hands in the long coat that hung to midcalf. The weather was a little warmer here than in New York, but that was only while they were in the city. If they traveled far from the coast, the temperature would drop.

  “It is my job to worry about you when I bring you here,” Klykov said. “I do not think this policeman friend of yours would allow me to get you hurt and not take umbrage with me.”

  “Probably not.” Admitting that made Annja feel good.

  The car rental clerk handed a set of keys to Klykov and they spoke in Russian while the clerk pointed them in the right direction. Klykov nodded and then handed the keys to Annja.

  “You will drive. I have always liked being the passenger in a car. I can sightsee.”

  Chapter 23

  The keys belonged to a silver BMW X3 SUV that sat out in the rental lot of the Odessa International Airport. Annja hesitated when she saw the vehicle, then looked at Klykov. “That’s an expensive car.”

  “Then it should be a good one, da?”

  “The guy at the counter stiffed you, Leonid. We should get a more economical car. You don’t need to spend this much money. I’m going to go in halves on this rental.” They’d already argued over the airplane tickets, Annja insisting on paying for her fare. Klykov had won that round, but Annja was determined to keep herself on equal footing with the old man.

  Klykov just kept walking, pulling his carry-on behind him. The wheels groaned and rattled across the pavement. He wore a thick coat against the winter chill that gusted across the parking lot. “It is okay. I asked for this one. The clerk showed me a picture and I said this one. I wish to have the leg room. You are tall. You will appreciate the leg room, too. And I like that the car sits up tall so that I can see everything on the street. This will be a good vehicle for us. Come. You are wasting time that Onoprienko may not be so generous to give us.”

  Annja gave in and used the key fob to open the rear door. They stowed their luggage in the rear and got in.

  Behind the steering wheel, Annja adjusted the seat and the rearview mirror as the engine warmed. “Where are we going?”

  “Have you been to the Seventh-Kilometer Market?”

  “No. I’ve seen it a few times as I’ve driven by, but I’ve never gotten to stop there.” The few times Annja had been to Odessa and landed at the airport instead of coming in by ship, she had been in a hurry and hadn’t been able to visit the place.

  The Seventh-Kilometer Market lay between the Odessa International Airport and the city itself. The marketplace got its name from the fact that it was seven kilometers outside of Odessa.

  “We will be going there today,” Klykov said. “That is where Fedotov is. But first we must make a small stop.”

  “Where?”

  Klykov waved forward. “Along the highway away from the airport. I will tell you.”

  Annja opened the ma
p navigator on the console and punched in the address for the Seventh-Kilometer Market when Klykov gave it to her. The software only took a moment to locate the destination and plan the route.

  “Along this way?” she asked.

  Klykov nodded. “This way will be fine.”

  Annja put the transmission in gear, watched the traffic and put her foot on the accelerator. Klykov took out a cell phone he had purchased inside the terminal, made a call and spoke in rapid-fire Russian. A few minutes later, she’d pulled onto the Odessa-Ovidiopol Highway that would take them to their destination.

  * * *

  CONFIDENT THAT HE wouldn’t lose Annja Creed or the old man getting out of the airport, Rao sat in his rental car and watched them leave. He’d already arranged for a car and his check-in time had been short, allowing him plenty of opportunity to shadow his quarry.

  While he’d done that, he’d searched for anyone else that might be following them. No one had acted overly concerned about losing sight of Annja and her companion.

  Then he realized that if anyone had been following them on the flight, they could just as easily have had someone waiting at the airport. An overlap of observation would be easy to arrange. His anxiety grew; even though he wanted the elephant, he didn’t want Annja Creed harmed.

  He put the car in gear and rolled out of the parking lot toward the access road that would take him toward Odessa. He was tired of always being concerned and in unfamiliar foreign territories. He longed to be back in the museum cataloguing artifacts.

  * * *

  “OVER HERE.” KLYKOV pointed at the side of the highway.

  According to the tripometer, they had only gone three miles from the airport. Annja looked at the small bronze sedan parked on the side of the highway as she turned on the signal and stepped lightly on the brake.

  “We’re meeting someone?” she asked. The idea of a clandestine meeting by the road didn’t appeal to her. They were too exposed.