Her destination was a luxurious apartment complex on Roosevelt Avenue. She recognized the pale blue, multi-unit structure as having been renovated for short-term leasing to visiting corporate executives. She found a parking place only a block away. It was so perfect to be out this evening, not a cloud in the sky, not a breeze to mess up her hair, the stars arranged just right. The next moment, she found the perfection frightening, as though things could alter shapes instantly.
Viktor opened the door, welcomed her in and apologized for the mess. The spacious living room, decorated with posh furniture was, indeed, untidy. Books, DVDs and a soiled plate subdued the effect of the fine dark wood floor. An ultra-slim laptop sat open on a desk cluttered with paper. The screensaver displayed the tricolored Russian flag: three equal-sized horizontal bands in red, blue and white.
‘I put that laptop together myself in Moscow.’ Pride crept into Viktor’s voice. ‘I do all my work on it.’
Viktor tapped a wall keypad, turned off the dome-shaped ceiling light and turned on the leaf-accented Tiffany floor lamp. It brought a softer glow to the room and highlighted the ivory walls while lessening the effect of the disorganization.
‘It’s stuffy in here,’ he murmured and went over to open a window.
He had a way of moving through space as though he didn’t expect to meet any resistance. As an investigator, she considered that to be a formidable trait in an opponent. She put her purse down on a marble-topped side table and sized up the place. In one corner, on a wooden, filigreed table rested a bottle of premium vodka and a pair of vintage drinking glasses, one of which had lipstick marks. Who did those lipstick marks belong to? She could tell she was frowning at the thought – a kernel of curiosity mixed with dread. On the kitchen wall facing her, she glimpsed a liquor cabinet. Directly below it stood an overfull, plastic-lined garbage pail. A curved-blade butcher’s knife gleamed on the counter, as did a sharpening stick.
When she turned, she found him standing behind her, his eyes sleepy, longing and magnetic.
A cellphone sang from his pocket, echoing the disturbance in Maya’s heart.
‘Pardon me, but I have to answer,’ he said. ‘My boss – he’s in Shanghai this week.’
The phone to his ear, face turned away, he drew back and listened for a few seconds. ‘One moment, please.’ He handed the phone over to her, whispering, ‘It’s your mother. She sounds frantic.’
Maya caught her breath. Uma – how on earth did she get hold of Viktor’s number? But then, since when had anything been impossible for Uma?
Maya adjusted her sari, exhaled and answered, knowing she sounded bewildered, maybe even displeased.
‘Where are you?’ Uma cried out.
‘In his apartment,’ Maya mumbled, hoping Uma wouldn’t detect wine in her voice.
‘What?’ Uma whispered. ‘Don’t you realize the danger you’re in? Leave immediately and come straight home. Tell him I got sick. Vomiting. I’ll tell you everything. In any case, it’s late. Almost eleven.’
Her hyper mother and her curfew. Didn’t she realize Maya was here to work on a case? However, the word danger roiled in Maya’s stomach. And she never liked to see herself or anyone else vomit. ‘Ma—’
‘Yes, right now, split.’ Uma hung up.
Maya handed the phone back to Viktor. How quickly the high feelings vanished, replaced by a sensation of stagnancy. ‘I have to go. My mother’s sick.’
‘How did she get my phone number?’
‘She has her ways.’
‘You said she had malaria?’ Viktor stepped closer. ‘So sorry. Should I come with you? Be of help somehow?’
Maya shook her head.
‘Shall we meet again tomorrow? Promise you’ll call me first thing in the morning. I’d like to wake up to your voice.’ He handed her a calling card with his Seattle number and escorted her down the elevator to street level, insisting on it for security’s sake. Normally, she’d have liked the solid feel of walking alongside a man so late at night. Now her legs froze.
The street was practically deserted, the night drawing out life from the landscape and leaving it bereaved, and yet Maya couldn’t have been more awake. In the bluish light of the street lamp, he searched her face. She saw him weaken. She let him give her a kiss on her cheek as she quickly moved her face to avoid his mouth.
In the brown depths of his eyes, she spied passion and a hint of design. She scrambled into her car and drove into the darkness.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Maya reached home, unlocked the front door and heard the murmur of a man’s voice. Who could it be at this late hour? She detoured to the dining area, taken by the spicy fragrance in the air.
Parked at the dining table, with a plate of food before him, Cal Chodron – pink hair and all, the Buddha-bright smile fixed on his face – was saying to Uma, ‘My sons would kill me if they found out I’m having an authentic dahl-bhat without them.’
‘It’s the simplest meal ever, made with red lentils and rice and a few spices.’ With Maya coming into view, Uma surged to her feet and circled her with her arms, joyously exclaiming, ‘Thank God you’re back.’
Maya threw her hands up in the air. ‘Why the drama?’
‘You were with a potential killer.’
A flutter of anxiety came back to Maya at this reference to Viktor: how much she still needed to be with him to get the rest of his story and what would happen if she lost the opportunity. Now Cal heaved himself out of his seat, gave her a once-over and boomed a hello. Although Maya returned his greeting, her mind went blank. What was the malaria volunteer coordinator doing in her living room? Until now she’d only seen him in his office on Aurora Avenue.
‘Are you all right?’ Cal asked.
‘Of course I’m all right,’ Maya replied.
‘In case you’re wondering,’ Cal said, ‘your mother invited me to come over and we’re having a most pleasant time.’
So typical of mother to invite strangers, so easy for her to engage them in a dialogue, but how did the two meet? And how did she get Viktor’s phone number? Maya held herself still, wishing she had a mint to hide the wine on her breath, and waited for her mother to speak.
‘You left your cellphone here.’ Uma motioned Maya to a chair and returned to her own seat. ‘When it rang, I answered it, guessing it might be you. It was Cal, calling from his office. We got to talking. When I told Cal where you were and with whom, he asked if he could come over.’
How could you trust Cal so much as to include him in this dialogue about Viktor, Ma? Maya silently asked herself.
Uma must have noticed the frown crowding Maya’s face. ‘Forgive me for ruining your date. As it turned out, Cal had Viktor’s phone number, so I rang you up. Before you got yourself in trouble.’
‘Trouble?’ Still baffled, Maya realized that, pouty, irritated and distracted, she wasn’t coming off well in this conversation. She turned to Cal and asked in a neutral tone, ‘How did you get Viktor’s phone number? How do you even know him?’
Cal leaned back, obviously relishing the fact that he had special intelligence on this matter. ‘Well, one of our employees had jotted down two names in her job application as emergency contacts: Ivan Dunn and Viktor Bhusan Chattopadhya. She also, of course, provided their phone numbers, which came in terribly handy this evening. I have access to the personnel files and was familiar with the names.’
Interesting, shocking and ultimately game-changing. Now that the effect of the wine had worn off, Maya saw things more clearly. Ivan, Viktor and Jennifer belonged to the same circle. What did they have in common? A common tongue – Russian, of course – and the tight-knit community they owed their allegiance to, although there must have been more to it, such as a common objective. What if the specimen had been stolen by none other than Jennifer – the tramp, the home-wrecker, the ex-drug-trafficker and a suspicious person?
‘Could the employee be Jennifer Marlow?’
Cal’s mouth hung open. ‘How do you know Jenn
ifer?’
‘We’ve met only once, by chance. What can you tell me about her?’
‘Once again, you’re questioning me about one of our employees. I’m not authorized to share that type of intelligence.’
‘But it might pertain to the mysterious deaths of Sylvie and Anna.’
‘What’s Jennifer got to do with that?’
‘If she has no direct or indirect involvement, then you should be free to talk about her.’
‘You don’t give up easily, do you?’ Cal blew out a breath. ‘OK, the women in our office don’t like her. They gossip that she’s real cunning; call her Ms Rasputin behind her back.’
A dizzy moment. Might there be bigger reasons behind this dislike of Jennifer? ‘Looks like you don’t like her much.’ Glancing at Cal, noticing his evasive eyes, sweaty nose and restless manner, Maya said, ‘You probably have your own sources?’
‘Yes, lately I’ve been getting a lot of reports on Ms Rasputin’s male companions.’
‘Would you care to explain the use of the plural?’
‘When her shift ends she’s usually met outside our clinic by young men, a different one each time.’
What was Jennifer doing with all these men? Drugs? Prostitution? Was Justin aware of it? A tiny, mean delight percolating in her, Maya directed her gaze back at Cal. ‘That in itself is probably not an issue.’
‘No. Maybe it’s even expected – she’s a bombshell.’
A bombshell could be trouble, Maya reflected, a bitter taste in her mouth. It quite often had been in her investigative work. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but have you observed anything unusual that concerns Jennifer?’
Cal maintained a stony-faced silence.
Maya leaned in closer. ‘You might be hiding potentially important data that the law enforcement would like to—’
‘If you insist. This is not for public consumption. Jennifer seemed to be doing fine, except … a week or so ago, I left my cubicle to go to a meeting. It was cancelled so I went right back to work, only to be surprised. Jennifer stood at my workstation, shuffling through a stack of papers. Though I was furious, I controlled my temper and asked her what she was looking for. She couldn’t meet my eyes, mumbled she was sorry and tried to walk away. I stopped her and asked her point blank why she was in my cubicle. She gave me one of her melting smiles, apologized in both English and Russian and promised she’d never do it again. It was obvious she wouldn’t admit anything, and I wanted to gather more evidence before recommending to her boss that she should be terminated, so I dropped the whole matter at that point.’
‘You dropped it? You must have sensitive data about the malaria trial in your cubicle.’
‘Yes, but she didn’t get it – all the relevant details are digitized.’ Cal gave a snort of anger.
‘And that’s not the end of it. I bet it was Jennifer who stole the blood sample tube you mentioned to me the last time. Am I correct?’
Again, Cal was silent.
‘Come clean with me, Cal.’
‘Yes, we can pin it on Jennifer, and that’s why we’re investigating her.’
‘I doubt Jennifer will personally have any use for the specimen,’ Maya said. ‘But maybe one of her “friends”?’
‘That’d be my guess, too.’
A thought sparked in Maya’s mind: it would have been easy for Viktor, the charmer, to persuade Jennifer to steal the blood sample tube. But for what purpose? ‘Any idea why a person might want to steal a malaria trial blood sample?’
‘My boss, Inez, did a bit of digging regarding Jennifer’s involvement with the missing blood sample and its implications,’ Cal began. ‘At one point, she even talked to a scientist in New Zealand.’
It flashed in Maya’s mind – Viktor’s mention of his visit with a New Zealand scientist who, according to him, had proved to be uncooperative. She now outlined that story to Cal. His eyes sharpened and he leaned toward her in a gesture of cooperation. Maya liked him better now. He’d come over to help her mother. In this homey environment, he acted so much like a family friend.
‘And that brings me to my next point.’ Cal’s expression betrayed a hint of smug self-satisfaction. ‘Viktor tried to steal the formula from that New Zealand lab by bribery. He got caught and was shown the door.’
Maya, trying to construct the timeline in her mind, thought out loud. ‘Right after that he came to Seattle, where an accomplice was waiting for him – Ivan. The two were already friends from Moscow.’
‘Are you saying that, with Ivan’s help, Viktor got hold of Sylvie’s formula for the vaccine?’ Cal asked.
‘No, that would have been impossible,’ Maya stressed. ‘Sylvie had destroyed her hard drive and all backups so no one could get the formula. It had to come from another source.’
‘So Sylvie did worry that someone, like Ivan, would steal her research work?’ Uma said.
‘Right,’ Maya said. ‘And so Ivan and Viktor sought an alternative. I’m still trying to figure out what that is.’
‘Let’s look at this from another angle,’ Uma said. ‘Anna, the sweet-maker. Why did she take her life? What was her role in all this?’
A strained silence ensued. Maya had no answer.
‘Did Anna ever mention Viktor’s name to you?’ Maya asked Cal.
‘It gives me the creeps now,’ Cal said, ‘but I’d heard Viktor’s name – first name only – mentioned by Anna several times when we had coffee together. “Met a most interesting man,” she once told me. Then, another time, “Viktor speaks Russian rather fluently.” And yet another time, “Finally met a guy I really like. Victor is cool, suave, good-looking and generous, with strong family ties.” She began seeing that rascal regularly and fell for him. He kept her on a leash. Poor girl – she was totally devastated when she realized she didn’t mean anything to him. That broke her. Ultimately, that’s what did it. He lost interest in her or perhaps he’d never been in love with her. Smart as she was, she lost interest in living.’
Maya sighed. ‘Maybe temporarily, but that doesn’t mean she’d want to commit suicide. She must have had help. And since—’
‘I’ll never forgive that sonofabitch, that scoundrel.’ The light in Cal’s eyes flared. ‘Makes me both sad and furious.’
Sad and furious – that also described Maya’s current state of mind. How similar their stories were – Sylvie’s and Anna’s. Both of Tibetan origin, both jilted by the men they loved, Ivan and Viktor. Maya wanted to shout at both of them: How could you be so vile?
‘I had a gut feeling Viktor would turn out to be an evil character,’ Uma said to Maya. ‘But I couldn’t really stop you from going on a date with him. You’re a big girl.’
Maya took a second to steady her nerves. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have uncovered this much if I hadn’t—’
‘My darling daughter – she doesn’t mind putting herself in harm’s way in order to break a case wide open for her client,’ Uma interrupted.
On the sidewalk outside, a passerby whistled a tune. Cal lifted his shirt sleeve and peeked at his watch. ‘Goodness, I had no idea it was this late. I have to go. Anything else I can do for you, ladies?’
Maya visualized Viktor’s apartment with all the messiness. He wasn’t who he seemed to be and she needed to collect much more proof for the police. ‘For my next visit to Viktor’s apartment, I’ll need to figure out an escape route for my use, in case I need it. You have rental agency contacts, don’t you?’
Cal looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, let me find out who Viktor’s landlord is and check to see if he’ll cooperate.’
‘And if it’s necessary to pull some strings with the SPD …?’ Maya asked.
‘My boss Inez could help us with that.’ Cal got to his feet. ‘Her father, a retired cop, knows the ropes.’
Cop – an image of Justin flew into Maya’s mind’s eye. Still seated at the table, she glanced at the centerpiece, a fruit bowl consisting of an appetizing mélange of pears, apricots and red grapes. As she gazed at the rich c
olors of the arrangement, she had an interesting thought. Jennifer, a recent hire at the clinic, hadn’t used Justin as a contact person in her job application. Why not? With residual feelings about Justin still bubbling inside her, Maya recalled how, only the other day, Jennifer had called out to him in a seductive voice. She would only get him in more trouble. Oh, Maya, why concern yourself? Why not let him go? Mentally, she cut the fragile threads of their bond and was swept up by a feeling of relief.
While Uma showed Cal out, Maya used her cellphone, which was lying on a living-room table, to Google MSP. What she found: a conglomerate whose U.S. headquarters were located in Los Angeles, MSP developed, produced and marketed pharmaceutical products. The company had a poor reputation and was not well regarded by the regulatory agencies but still had a banner year. As far as clinical trials go, it was believed to lack transparency. To think Sylvie’s research would end up there, Maya mused bitterly.
She also went over the details of the evening in her mind. It occurred to her that Ivan, the man responsible for Atticus’s beating, had tried the same tactic on her by attacking Uma. The rock that was thrown was either him or one of his boys. Yet Ivan must have realized that it had not been enough to stop her. He knew Maya was still trying to unravel the real cause behind the two suicides and now Ivan didn’t want her to be scared; he wanted her to be gone. Her date with Viktor had been a setup. Ivan had brought them together and assumed an attraction would develop between them from the way they looked at each other. He’d wanted Viktor to stop her, tame her, use her and now probably murder her. Fortunately she’d seen through much of it.
The puzzle pieces were beginning to fall in place. Yet, instead of making her happy with the progress she’d made, they choked her chest.
After closing the door, Uma stepped in and resumed her seat. ‘What a nightmare. You got out in time – I’m so relieved.’
Season of Sacrifice Page 21
