Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2

by Genelin, Michael

  “The Manager, the person who tried to kill him.” Levitin suggested. He too felt the evening cold, rubbing his hands.

  “Maybe there is more than one Manager?”

  “Perhaps. But your sister seemed to say there is only one. I think Koba thinks he knows who it is, but wants to be absolutely certain before he acts. I think he has an emotional reason for wanting this.”

  “I don’t think Koba can be emotional.”

  “Even the beasts in the forest feel emotion.”

  Jana wished she had a sweater. The small gusts of wind coming off the water made their perch colder than the interior of the city. “We have to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “They all want the code book, and we’re in the middle. I think we should give them the book.”

  Jana jumped down from the bench, Levitin following her lead, both of them walking to a crosswalk leading away from the sea.

  “Your uncle thought Koba was dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “So he must know there was an attempt on Koba’s life.”

  “By him or one of his associates, you think?”

  “I think.”

  “All we have to do now is find the Manager.”

  “We will know soon.”

  She took a last look at the bay, the water now turned from dark green to black. Jana thought about the water and how it looked in the daylight, a beautiful cobalt blue. “I can see why people like Nice. I could get used to living here when the sun is shining.”

  They walked into town.

  Chapter 56

  Jana made the phone call, arranging a meeting, then had to persuade Levitin not to come with her or follow her. The Russian was adamant, and it took all of Jana’s bag of threats, tricks, temper, and determination to finally wear him down. Only after insisting that she call him every half hour after she got there so he’d know she was safe, did he agree to let her go alone.

  Jana sat at a small table outside a café on Garibaldi Square. A heat lamp near the table gave off a welcoming halo of warmth. Jana was thankful for its comfort on this windy day. She placed the brown bag she was carrying on top of the table, then ordered a double espresso and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Moira Simmons arrived. A Rolls-Royce with a thin red stripe along its side let her off at the curb.

  There were two men in the car, both of whom gave Jana hard stares while surveying the area before they parked a few doors down. Neither of them left Jana with any doubt as to his profession. Moira Simmons took her security seriously.

  Moira walked over to Jana’s table, a smile on her face, and sat across from Jana, her eyes flicking to the bag, then coming back to Jana.

  “I’m so glad you called me,” Moira gushed. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened with your daughter last night. It must have been a terrible experience for you. I thought I might be able to help.”

  “That’s very nice of you, Moira. I should have listened and not made an attempt to speak with her. Jeremy had warned me.”

  “We never think about being estranged from our children. It should never happen, but it does, over and over, for a whole dictionary full of reasons. I used to want children; then I saw how much trouble they got into in the world, and how much trouble their parents had either with them or trying to save them, so that I finally concluded, for me at least, that it was perhaps better that I never had any.”

  “I understand.”

  “So you agree: One should not have children.”

  “No, I disagree. If one can, one should have children.”

  “Even after what happened at the ball?”

  “I still love my daughter. And, if I did not have a child, I would not have a grandchild.”

  “You are content to leave it that way?”

  “I haven’t given up. I just have to wait longer.”

  “Forever, maybe?”

  “Maybe.”

  Moira hesitated. “Tell me how you got my phone number.”

  “Foch’s address book. A legacy from his murder.”

  “Ah, yes. He would have had it. Poor Foch.” She reflected on Foch for a very brief moment, then decided to come to the point of the meeting. “What do you want from me? You called me. Why?”

  “I want to see Katka before I have to go back to Slovakia.”

  “Are you going back soon?”

  Jana sipped her coffee. “As soon as I see my grandchild, get to meet her, cuddle her a little, and tell her I love her.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “You want my help in arranging a meeting with your grandchild?”

  “I have seen how convincing you have been in the past. You are close to Katka. I think you might persuade her.”

  “And in return, what do I get? My payment?”

  “My eternal thanks.”

  Simmons’s face lost color, undergoing a transformation which changed the cast of her features to something bleak. She half-closed her eyes. “Nothing is free.”

  “The truly valuable things are free.”

  “Not so. Everything must be paid for, generally sooner than later.” She indicated the brown bag on the table. “What do we have here? Is this a present for me?”

  Jana drew the moment out, letting Moira anticipate what might be in the brown package.

  “You should have something to eat first. A coffee and perhaps a small pastry.”

  “Is there a book in the bag?” Moira asked.

  Jana pulled the brown bag closer to herself, resting her hand on it. “Maybe.”

  “My question is serious. Don’t be coy, Matinova.”

  “It seems to me that you have toyed with me.”

  “Toyed? No. Everything I do has a reason. We all do what we need to for survival. I simply do it better than others.”

  “Who is the real Moira Simmons?”

  “Whoever you want to think she is.”

  “When did you meet Koba?”

  “Koba.” Simmons mulled the name over. “I have heard that name. He uses other names as well.” She looked at the brown bag. “I could have my people take the bag and its contents from you.”

  “You think the ledger is inside the brown bag?” Jana stared back at Moira without blinking, letting the woman know she was not frightened.

  “You are on a road to disaster, Commander.”

  Jana let the words hang in the air before handing the paper bag over. Moira ripped the book from the bag and read the title on the cover. Then she opened the covers, riffling through the pages, becoming more and more agitated. With great effort, she quieted herself, gently laying the book on the table.

  “A volume of Montaigne’s Essays.”

  “He was a very wise man.”

  “Not what I expected.”

  “You want the ledger.”

  “The account book, the ledger, whatever you want to call it.”

  “A few questions have to be answered first, and then I need a favor.”

  “It depends upon the questions, and the favor.”

  “You say you have heard of Koba?”

  “He is dead.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Some men I know killed him.”

  “On your orders?”

  Moira stared at her without answering. The silence was explicit enough to tell Jana what she wanted to know.

  “Next question,” Moira prompted.

  “Are you the Manager?”

  “If you want to call me that. My friends do not.”

  “Is that a ‘yes’?”

  “A yes or no, whatever you make of it. Enough questions. What about the favor?”

  “You already know it.”

  “You want me to persuade your daughter to let you see your grandchild?” She relaxed, now in control. “Do you have the ledger?”

  “I have it.”

  Simmons took the torn bag that had contained the book of essays, writing an address on it.

  “Call, and then deliver it to me.”

&nbs
p; “You’ll have it . . . when you have persuaded my daughter to let me see my granddaughter, and it is confirmed to my satisfaction.”

  Moira smiled, a show of teeth rather than an expression of cheer.

  “I will expect the book.”

  “Good.” Jana pushed the volume of essays toward her. “Please take this one in the meantime. A small gesture of good faith.”

  Moira took the book, then rose from the table and walked to the Rolls. One of the men opened the door for her. She got in without looking back, and the car pulled away from the curb and out of the square.

  Jana sipped her coffee. It had gotten cold. She laid down money for the bill, then walked to middle of the sidewalk and, glancing up and down the street, wondered where Koba was.

  She saw no one she could identify as him. There were too many people about to single anyone out. But, as sure as the sun was in the sky, she knew Koba was there.

  Jana walked out of the square.

  A few minutes later, a tanned man seated in the café next to Jana’s got up from his table and casually sauntered away. He was content, if not happy. He knew who all his enemies were.

  Chapter 57

  Jana had a hard night. She could usually sleep when she was investigating even the most serious cases, but tonight there were too many nightmares. People were chasing her daughter, then her granddaughter, intent on hurting them. And Jana was tied by a wire leash, unable to help, her hands bloody from trying to work herself loose from the embedded wire, her mouth sealed by a metal strip, prevented even from screaming for help. She was glad when the bedside phone rang, freeing her from her half-sleep.

  She mumbled a “yes” into the phone. It was Trokan.

  “What are you doing sleeping?”

  “It’s normal to sleep.”

  “I let you go to Nice to work on a case.”

  As she spoke to Trokan, Jana began to dress. “I’m working on the case.”

  “Not wearing an evening gown today?”

  “I’m back to being an ugly police officer.”

  “I called to welcome you home.”

  “I’m not home yet.”

  “A friendly reminder. The deadline remains. There will be consequences if you are not back by the time we agreed upon. The French police have also told me you are not being as cooperative as they would like.”

  “I’m cooperating. They are just being French.”

  “The French say a lot of odd things.”

  “How are my blind cats?”

  There was a long pause. Jana did not like the pause.

  “Tell me,” she ordered, knowing it was bad news.

  “Both dead. They died yesterday. No real reason we could see. Just died. I thought about having a veterinarian perform an autopsy, but who ever heard of an autopsy on a cat in Slovakia?”

  Jana was silent, trying to absorb the blow. She had grown to love the helpless little things.

  “Jana,” barked Trokan, sensing her emotion. “These things happen.”

  “I wish they didn’t.”

  “We’re adults. We know they do.”

  “Yes. Thank you for telling me.”

  “I debated whether I should or not. The truth, unfortunately, won out. What is happening there?”

  Jana gave him a fairly detailed rundown of the events that had occurred over the last few days, then told him what she planned to do.

  “You are sure?” Trokan muttered.

  “No.”

  “Then why are you going to do it?”

  “All of them have surfaced. Now we need to prompt the rest of their actions.”

  “You have no control over what they will do.”

  “The truth is, we never do.”

  “You sound angry about that fact.”

  “There are things we get angry about.”

  “Good. I consider anger to be a marvelous motivation for all my subordinates. Stay well.”

  He hung up.

  Jana had breakfast in the hotel restaurant, then went back to her room, expecting a call. An hour later, Jeremy telephoned. He was quite cheerful, the bearer of good news for Jana. Their mutual friend Moira Simmons had talked to Katka. She had been incredibly caring and sympathetic. No, Katka would not come, but wonderful Moira had persuaded his wife to let Jana see her granddaughter. Jana could visit with her for an hour in the late afternoon at La Colline du Chateau, an old park with even older ruins on the top of a small mountain overlooking the Côte d’Azur.

  The thought of seeing her granddaughter lifted her depression over the cats’ deaths. Things might work out. At least she could hope they would. Now she would have to keep her end of the bargain.

  Jana called the hotel business office for a messenger, then picked up the ledger, idly leafing through it. It was time to use it. Jana wrote carefully worded notes for Moira Simmons, Viktor Levitin, and Inspector Vachon. When the messenger arrived, Jana gave him the ledger with instructions to reproduce two copies, one for Moira and the other for the inspector, then handed over her three notes with explicit instructions on how to deliver them and the two copied ledgers.

  The note to Moira Simmons read, “I have kept my end of the bargain.” The note to Uncle Viktor was as terse. “Moira Simmons has obtained the ledger.” The third note, to Inspector Vachon, read, “Here is the Koba ledger. You will hear more in a little while.”

  Then Jana decided she had to get out of the room for a walk. The remnants of Carnival were being cleared away, the stands disassembled. The lights that had been hung in celebration were being loaded onto trucks. The Niceans were very quick to clean up their city after Carnival and to welcome a return to sobriety.

  Jana watched for a moment as a large papier-mâché lion’s head was set on the street for a moment before being picked up by a crane. Part of its face had been smashed in the dismantling. There was a sad-looking, lopsided grin on the beast now. It looked so woebegone that Jana had a sudden fleeting fantasy that it was still alive, but now forlorn, desolate that its brief span of life was nearly over.

  She walked on, looking toward the area by the harbor. Dark gray clouds were moving in from the sea. There would be rain, brief but heavy from the look of it. The Boulevard Jean Jaures was emptier then usual. Perhaps people had anticipated the new storm moving across the city and decided to stay indoors.

  For Jana, the breeze that was sweeping in over the water was cold, though not as cold as it had been in Slovakia. The fresh air felt delicious, redolent with the smells of the Mediterranean.

  Then she saw the Rolls-Royce sailing down the boulevard. From its direction, Jana assumed its destination was the Negresco. Either Uncle Viktor or Moira Simmons must be behind the dark windows, one or both thinking that they might soon own the world.

  They were in for a terrible surprise.

  Koba, the legend, had not lasted as long as he had by being careless. Largess was not part of the man’s makeup. He guarded the keys to his empire carefully. The ledger would not come free.

  Jana eyed the dark clouds that were nearly overhead now. When it broke, the storm would be a big one.

  Chapter 58

  Late that afternoon, idly watching the rain from her hotel-room window, Jana received a phone call from Inspector Vachon, summoning her to the Negresco. There had been another crime, and the inspector wanted her opinion. Jana took a cab from the taxi stand near her hotel, riding through the pouring rain to the Negresco. Inspector Vachon’s adjutant met her in the lobby, then accompanied her to a deluxe suite on an upper floor.

  There were police, forensic personnel, and medical staff all over the huge suite. It was immediately clear that they were performing their assigned tasks in the investigation of a murder.

  Jana was taken through the anteroom into the large living room. Levitin was seated in a wing chair, his tall body slumped in resignation, his face bleak. Across from him was Vachon, who looked up from his notes as Jana was led into the room.

  A few meters behind the inspector was a plastic-bla
nket-covered body on the floor. From the foot and shoe that protruded, it was a man. No one was paying any attention to the corpse, so Jana assumed they were through with their preliminary examination. The inspector waved her to a nearby love seat.

  “Coffee for Commander Matinova,” he ordered a nervous hotel employee. The man quickly fixed a small silver tray with coffee and accompaniments and brought it to her. Levitin appeared to pay no attention, staring fixedly ahead, clearly miserable.

  Jana sipped at her black coffee for a moment, waiting for the inspector, who had gone back to his notes. He finally looked up.

  “Viktor Levitin was murdered.”

  She thought about it. “I do not think it will be a loss to the world.”

  “His two bodyguards were also killed.”

  “I have similar feelings about them.”

  “One of them is behind me, on the floor. The other is in the bedroom with Viktor. Investigator Levitin informs me that Viktor Levitin was his uncle.”

  “Not a kindly uncle.”

  Vachon waved a hand, as if to say “That’s the way things are in the world.” He thought for a moment.

  “The person who killed him was not kind either. Whoever murdered Viktor Levitin also cut off his testicles and stuffed them in his mouth. Judging by the bleeding from this wound, he was probably alive at the time. A rather dreadful way to die, wouldn’t you say?”

  “In my experience, there is no pleasant way to die, Inspector.”

  Levitin finally looked up. “He liked beating up women. He was not a man. So his balls were superfluous.”

  “You didn’t like your uncle?” Vachon asked.

  “Once. Not now.”

  The inspector nodded. “Still and all, a bad death.” He shifted uneasily in his seat, a thoughtful look on his face. “Whoever the murderer was, I do not think I would like to meet him in a lonely place without a pistol in my hand.”

  “I would suggest that you have a bullet in the chamber of the gun with the safety off and the hammer of the weapon cocked as well,” Jana interjected.

  “Thank you for the good advice.” The inspector darted another glance at his notes. “I understand you and Mr. Levitin, the murdered man’s nephew, met him the other day?”