The Good Thief

by Judith Leon

  “We have entered Josefov, possibly the most haunted of all places in Prague, the old Jewish quarter, actually the result of a pogrom throughout much of Prague’s often tragic history. Be alert to the shade of Franz Kafka, who restlessly and angrily seeks out his former loyal friend and fellow artist through these streets. After all, the friend had the audacity not to destroy Kafka’s work upon his death as promised. Now look what Kafka must endure—lasting fame. Those who have seen him say he’s furious.”

  The guide did not tell them that in fact Kafka was buried elsewhere, in the New Jewish Cemetery, and the passengers commented and kidded about seeing Kafka just there or over there as they climbed down from the carriage. They followed the guide toward the side of the Pinkas Synagogue to “the cemetery, which was established in the fifteenth century.”

  Oddly, the tour guide thought he’d seen three or even four figures dressed in black scurry away at the end of the wall. The sight made his hackles rise. Had any of his customers noticed? He could swear that at least one of the dark wraiths had a mustache and thin goatee. The spirit of Flash Gordon’s villain, the evil Ming? At least the figures seemed to be leaving.

  He shook off the eerie feeling. Of course they had been men, not ghosts. They had to be. “Tonight,” the guide intoned in his spookiest voice as he unlocked the iron gate, “on this special tour, we are going to experience something few people ever have seen—a haunted graveyard at midnight. This old Jewish cemetery has bodies buried as many as twelve layers deep, perhaps more than a hundred thousand restless spirits here.”

  The customers had grown quiet. The joking stopped as they moved down a central walkway. Moonlight and his lone flashlight shone on the stunningly eerie sight of a jumble of tombstones crowded together, most leaning or tilting like broken teeth, as if about to fall.

  One of the tourists said, “Looks like the dead are pushing the ground up, trying to get out.”

  Other tourists shuddered.

  Pointing with the beam of his flashlight, the guide said, “Rabbi Loew is buried here. The creator of the most famous of the Golem stories of the clay giant who came to life and killed those who persecuted—”

  The guide stopped panning. The flashlight’s beam returned to where it had been a fraction of a second earlier. Behind a bed-shaped tomb stood two women, one with blood all over her chest, leaning against the other whose hands were bloody.

  Three tourists screamed.

  Another said, “You chaps do stage the most delightfully bizarre things.”

  The guide couldn’t seem to get his mouth closed or find his voice.

  “Please help us,” the pale pretty woman said.

  Lindsey had thanked the good people in the carriage for taking Zuza and her to the nearest emergency care unit, which, as it turned out, was only a few blocks from the cemetery. The tour guide also called in seeking help for the cabbie, but he’d already been picked up. He’d been hit at the base of his skull, and Lindsey dreaded hearing about his condition. Killed or maimed for life because he’d stopped to pick her up. Unbearable. And Zuza had lost consciousness, in dire condition, as well, also because of helping Lindsey. She left Zuza in the care of the doctors, found a pay phone in the hallway, and dialed the safe house.

  Marko hadn’t returned.

  Dread shot through her. She remained jittery, wired to the max. The whole demonstration with Jeremy, then the adrenaline racing through her veins during the chase, Zuza’s getting shot, followed by their discovery in the graveyard by what had at first seemed to Lindsey like some posse from the Inquisition. She slumped against the wall by the phone. Bendrich explained that she had messages from a Sam and a Tito. Both had experienced delays and weren’t sure when they’d arrive. Lindsey hung up and sank into a chair in the waiting area. Her brain boiled, hyper as an MTV clip. No Samantha! Even worse, maybe no Tito! Seriously bad news. They needed to get Teal out before morning. Somehow Lindsey had to make it happen. And where in God’s name was Marko?

  An adrenaline letdown nearly overpowered her. She suddenly longed to curl up into a ball in her hotel room with the thermostat set to ninety. She felt completely alone…as Teal must have been feeling for days now. The girl’s heroic instincts in not escaping when she had the chance were now endangering the lives of so many. And yet, they’d never have known about the sixteen other girls if not for brave, foolish Teal. There was such evil in what Jeremy and the bidders were doing. Those bidders…Foo Hai. At least one of her attackers had worn a calligraphy pendant like Foo Hai’s. Why had they tried to kill her and Zuza?

  Marko, I need you. Where are you?

  Was he okay? Rats. It sure didn’t help her focus to be worrying about him. After he’d lost contact with her, he probably decided there was no point in waiting around.

  “Ha!” she said aloud. Some watchdog. Some help if he’d drifted off somewhere.

  But what if something bad had happened to him? Annoying man. She didn’t need the drag of having to watch out for anyone else, thank you very much, K-bar.

  She looked up to see an elderly woman and younger man sitting together across from her chair, staring at her. Lindsey nodded; gravely, they nodded back.

  Ah, her fatigue had been talking to her. She shook her head and pictured Marko following her out there in the middle of who knew where, not speaking the language…Marko was valiantly trying to help, and if he was in trouble, she needed to get on it immediately. She sat up and sucked in a deep breath. Only something pretty serious would keep Marko from calling in, she decided. If something had really happened to him…

  She thought of the looks that came over his handsome face when she was around him, a look of fascination intensely focused on her, of fun, of patience, of heroic willingness to help. Okay, she had to try to find him. It was 12:36. Get it together and—

  “Lindsey?”

  Marko was striding toward her. She flew at him. Their mouths locked together upon contact, arms clamping each other through heavy coats, his colder than hers. His lips warmed quickly next to hers. Applause sounded behind her.

  Lindsey broke away and turned to see the old lady smiling gently and clapping. Lindsey waved back.

  “I was sick that I’d lost you,” Marko said.

  Lindsey explained about Jeremy’s interference device. “And, when I thought something had happened to you, Marko, I…” Uh-oh, she was turning sappy. She cleared her throat. “I knew how much I’d hate to lose a guy so good at first aid.”

  He grinned. “I only kept the damn Rolly on because I knew K-bar would hunt me down and carve me up if I lost you.”

  She made a face.

  His expression went serious. “I never gave up, Linds, and when the signal finally came on again, well, I don’t know where I was, but I followed it until it led me here.”

  Her throat tightened with all the feelings that stirred inside her, feelings they didn’t have time for. She grabbed Marko’s arm and headed for the exit. “Do you still have the car?”

  “Barely. It works, though.”

  Barely? She knew at once that a bad story lay behind that one word. But not now. Time for his story later. “Then let’s go.”

  Chapter 29

  A t the sight of a jagged hole in the rear windshield of Marko’s rented car, Lindsey halted midstride; she really might have lost Marko. The spare tire, one of those small temporaries, looked pitiful.

  “I froze my culo changing the tires,” Marko explained. “The other rear tire I patched from a small emergency kit in the trunk. It’s so cold, I doubt that the adhesive will stick much longer. Could blow anytime.”

  Lindsey climbed into the passenger’s seat and they headed for the safe house. “Who did this, Marko?”

  “Well, I know they looked Asian.”

  “Two of the bidding teams are Asian. One is, I think, North Korean and the other is…well, I don’t know who they represent, but the bidder is one scary beast. I’d say Chinese.”

  Marko made a turn. “I fired back,” he continued
, “and they took off. I don’t think they expected me to be armed. And Linds, there was a chopper flying around and a car with someone who looked Eastern European, possibly a local. My gut says we were all looking for the same thing.”

  “These people are clearly dead set on getting their hands on that poor girl. I guess they’ll do anything. I’m virtually certain that the men who attacked Zuza and me were with the man who calls himself Foo Hai. He probably led the attack.”

  “Perhaps he was helping to take out someone he thought might outbid him.”

  “That’s been my guess, too. And I have more bad news.”

  Marko looked at her quickly, then back to the street.

  “There are sixteen more girls scheduled to be future kidnap victims.” She told Marko about the disks for sale that would provide the names and identities, locations and talents, of more exceptional girls like Teal.

  When she’d filled him in on everything that happened at the demonstration, Marko said, “This just blows my mind. The science itself, and that these people want to become gods and don’t give l’oca who gets hurt.”

  “Goddess, in the case of the Russian woman.” Lindsey instantly thought again of the goddess in the painting, totally unlike Galina. The figure in the mural was a friendly, beautiful goddess. Wait a minute…” 1920s. Art nouveau. Alphonse Mucha!”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a Mucha! The mural in the room was painted by Alphonse Mucha. I’m sure of it. We might be able to figure out exactly where Jeremy’s place is! The goddess’s headdress was distinctive, but I couldn’t remember right then exactly why. It was in the style of art nouveau—only done realistically! I’d bet you’d recognize all the posters he did in Paris at the turn of the century up though the twenties. He practically invented art deco. But he also did more serious epic paintings and murals on commission that weren’t as well known.”

  “I don’t see how this is so helpful.”

  “Because if we can find a record of his commissioned works, we’ll be able to find Jeremy’s place.”

  “You can put hands on this information in the middle of the night?”

  Lindsey slouched. “I don’t know. It is our best lead, though. Oh, and I also have a twig from a tree lining the road near his place. An avenue of trees on both sides, all looking the same. I think we can go over satellite photos and maybe narrow things down.”

  Marko turned the car into the street with the tobacco shop just as the car bumped drastically in the right rear. A flat. Lindsey and Marko both groaned. They were only about four blocks from the safe house, so they pulled over and walked, Marko carrying the Rolly unit. The bitter cold stung Lindsey’s face again as they hurried through the streets of Stare Mesto, Old Prague, now empty and quiet.

  With time growing painfully short, Lindsey gulped black coffee and suppressed any urge to rest or sleep. People were hurt, maybe even dead. Monsters were on the move and Teal was still trapped among them. A long hot shower was what Lindsey craved above all creature comforts. Well, maybe even more, a hot shower with Marko. She settled for a change into her day clothing and another hit of coffee as she forced herself to plan for an extraction that had to happen—somehow.

  Sam was suddenly unreachable, so Lindsey called Christine and Allison. She reached Christine, who was stunned to learn about the sixteen other girls.

  Bendrich, now awakened, joined them and entered clearance codes that allowed Marko to work on satellite image photo-reconnaissance data. A CIA feed from satellite recon in the Prague area was, fortunately, a piece of technology the safe house did have. Marko sat fully engrossed in front of a computer screen. Lindsey caught herself staring at him. She was deeply in trouble about Marko.

  She made a rough sketch of the curved road leading to the flat stretch with the trees and the probable orientation of the building, and then asked Bendrich if it was possible he could find a forensic botanist, not entirely sure there was such a thing.

  “Oh, yes indeed,” Bendrich said. “And she loves to be involved in big cases. She travels often, but if she is in Prague she’ll surely come. The room she rents is very close by.” He seemed pleased to have a specific task.

  Allison called from Maryland where it was only a few minutes after 7:00 p.m. as opposed to just after 1:00 a.m. in Prague.

  “Where’s Sam?” Lindsey forced her voice to sound calm.

  “There’s a downpour of freezing rain in London that is slowing air traffic,” Allison said. “The plane will leave as soon as the storm dies down. She should be there in three hours or so on a chartered jet.”

  “That means she won’t be here until after 4:00 a.m. at the earliest! For what I plan, we need the cover of darkness. And in my view, predawn would be the last possible good moment to stage this thing.”

  “You know where Teal is held?”

  “Well, no…not yet. But listen to this. You’d better sit down.” Lindsey told her about the sixteen other girls scheduled for “sale.”

  “Dear God,” Allison breathed.

  In the instant of silence, Lindsey heard the rapid clack of Marko’s fingers hitting computer keys, saw the flashes of light at his computer station as scenes changed on the screen. He was comparing day and night satellite images of the terrain around Prague.

  Allison said, “No doubt all of the sixteen girls were born to mothers who looked to the Zuni Fertility Clinic for help. This is such awful news.”

  Lindsey went on to describe the bidders and how Marko was attacked and her own attack that ended at the cemetery with Zuza critically wounded and the cabbie near death.

  This also hit Allison hard. “There was no way to anticipate this, Lindsey. It’s a relief that your father sent this Marko Savin and that he’s helping.”

  She thought of him getting lost and said nothing.

  “So the North Koreans were there,” Allison continued. “Not unusual. The Russians, sad but not terribly surprising, and, of course, the good old Kestonians. The one who was excessively sweating…”

  “Todor.”

  “Something’s bothering me about this Todor and his condition. I’m going to do some checking. Also the Chinese bidder you mentioned is quite puzzling.”

  “The only thing I know about that one is that he’s here with at least two other thugs in addition to his psychic and that he seems independent of any government. He wears a gold calligraphy pendant. I’m sorry I couldn’t memorize all of it, but I’ll send a partial sketch shortly.”

  “Well, that would be a start. I’ll run it all through databases. And I absolutely agree that we need to move ASAP, not only to get Teal out but now to stop Jeremy’s potentially catastrophic little auction. You must get those disks, Lindsey. Even at great risk. You know that, right?”

  This was Allison making clear that in the face of having sixteen more children in jeopardy, Lindsey might have to make some very, very hard choices as to who would live and who might die. “I fully understand, Allison. I will do what is required.”

  Lindsey told Allison about her theory that the mural was painted by the famous Czech artist Alphonse Mucha and that she needed a record of his commissioned murals.

  “I’ll get on it. Research is just my cup of tea. You work it from your end, too.”

  “I will. Allison…” Lindsey spoke softly. “Teal is truly amazing. She was poised and performed beautifully in the psychic demonstrations. And her running ability is breathtaking. I’m certain she understood that an Athena woman was there. I wish you could have seen the hope flash in her eyes. I’m not going to let her down, but I’m really a novice at extractions.”

  “I’ll send you a tactical ops brief. When you receive it, you can use it as a guide to plan as much of the extraction as you can—the approach, the weapons, positions, if possible. Have you ever worked on a tactical team mission before?”

  “No, I’m sort of a lone cowgirl, but K-bar is putting together a tactical squad for emergencies with his personal security company and is continually adding more to t
he NSI arsenal of less-lethal weapons, so I’m familiar with the gear and some of the concepts. Marko probably is, as well. I can fire and do combat reloading of less-lethal as well as standard weapons, and I’m trained in weapons safety, use of green laser optic targeting…A mix of skills. The friend I said was on the way, his people are fully equipped with cutting-edge gadgets and are experts. If they can get here before it’s too late.”

  “Do I need to remind you that Athena cannot—must not—be implicated in this? You can’t involve any local authorities who would demand answers to a lot of questions. Whatever happens, we don’t know you.”

  Sheesh! How could Allison think Lindsey didn’t know this? “No reminders necessary.”

  They rang off and she dialed Tito. “We’re about ready to take off,” he said. “The weather is not cooperating. We’ll arrive as soon as we can, Lindsey. I’ll keep you posted.”

  Chapter 30

  I n the safe house common work area, Lindsey watched Bendrich’s body language as he spoke on the phone to someone at the emergency care center. He kept nodding.

  “Ano…Prosim?…Prosim k sluzbam…ano.”

  Lindsey understood enough Czech by now to translate that last part perfectly. He’d essentially been saying, “Yes, Yes? Yes, and yes.”

  Bendrich hung up the phone. “Zuza and the cabbie are stabilized with blood transfusions and have been sent to a larger hospital, Motol. Both alive. Zuza conscious. Cabbie unconscious. They are both scheduled for surgery.”

  The elevator dinged and shortly afterward a buxom, attractive woman in her fifties stepped into the entry and then into the workroom. Her chin-length hair was mostly black, gone white around her face in beautiful streaks. Dita, the forensic botanist. She smiled, bleary-eyed but gracious. Lindsey showed her the twig with a partial brown leaf still attached and explained how the trees had lined the road at the site in question. Dita ran it under warm water at the tiny kitchenette, essentially a sink, cupboard, microwave and coffeemaker.