The Seven Sequels bundle

by Orca Various

  Katya is wide-eyed as she starts in on the second letter.

  “The second one is even better,” I tell Noah. “It’s from the State Department. Apparently, Mirella and Curtis kept after them to get Franken back. That’s the answer they finally got. It says that Franken—Waldmann—died in a Soviet labor camp shortly after he arrived there. Way before you were born. You want to show him the letters, Katya?”

  “So maybe my grandfather made a mistake about the time,” Noah says. “Maybe he saw him earlier.”

  “Thirty years earlier? That’s some mistake,” I say. “Especially for a guy who’s so good at remembering things like faces.”

  “What difference does it make?” Noah says. “It doesn’t make any difference. He saw him and knew it was Waldmann.”

  And a crook, I think. That’s what Noah said his grandfather told him: They were all crooks, and they all stashed their stuff in the same place.

  “What’s in that Swiss bank, Katya?”

  Noah answers for her. “That’s none of your business.”

  “I told you, Noah. I’m not ashamed.” Katya looks steadily at him. “It’s gold and jewelry, all of it stolen.” She doesn’t say who it was stolen from. She doesn’t have to.

  “So Waldmann was also a thief,” I say.

  Katya bows her head. She nods.

  “A thief with a fortune tucked away in a Swiss bank account that I bet you can’t wait to get your hands on.” I’m looking at Noah when I say that. His expression is stony. It’s Katya who takes offense.

  “We’re not doing this for ourselves. We’re going to give it back.”

  “Back? To whom? All the people he stole from are long gone. Most of their families are gone too,” I say.

  “To a good cause. To help people.” I can see she means it. “After what Waldmann did, it’s the least I can do.”

  “So why the secrecy? Why didn’t you tell your grandfather or your uncle what you’re up to?”

  She bites her lip. “Noah said it would be better to just do it. Things have been so tough at home. If Uncle Gerry knew about that safe-deposit box…” Her voice trails off.

  I get it. She wants to make sure no one is tempted. She really seems to want to do the right thing—with no interference. I have to give her credit for that.

  Noah pushes away from the fireplace. “Come on, Katya. We have to go.”

  When he turns to pick something up from the fireplace mantel, Katya looks past me and frowns again. That’s when I hear a floorboard creak. I think Noah does too, because we both turn at the same time.

  There’s someone else in the room.

  It’s Ed Mitron. I’m confused. What’s he doing here? Did my grandmother call him? Is he looking for me? If he is, how did he manage to find me? And why does he look like that—in a long overcoat, both hands behind his back in a casual pose, like a man waiting for a bus?

  “Who—?” Katya begins, then breaks off.

  Mitron nods pleasantly at me and then looks to Noah.

  “What are you doing here?” Noah demands.

  Not “Who are you?” but “What are you doing here?” Noah knows him. He knows Mitron. I start to get a bad feeling.

  Katya’s eyes search out Noah’s. “What’s going on? Who is this man?” She swings around to Mitron. “Who are you?”

  “That doesn’t matter, my dear,” Mitron says. He turns to Noah. “You have the key and the information?”

  Noah holds up an envelope. “What are you doing here, Ed? I have everything under control.”

  Mitron answers by bringing one hand from around his back and raising it. He’s holding a gun.

  “Give the envelope to the girl, Noah,” he says.

  Noah’s eyes are on the gun. When they finally flick up to Mitron’s eyes, I see acceptance. Or maybe confirmation. I’m not sure which. He hands the envelope to Katya.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask Mitron. “Did you follow me?” It’s the only explanation I can think of.

  “Follow you?” He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. In fact, I was disheartened when I got your note. It was never my intention to involve you, not if I didn’t have to. And I sincerely hoped I didn’t, Rennie. For your father’s sake.”

  “Ed—” Noah begins.

  Mitron ignores him. “You were at my house for ten days, you and your father, and we had a pleasant time, did we not? I was beginning to think that I had been wrong.”

  Wrong? I don’t understand.

  “I was beginning to think you knew nothing. But that last day, for the first time since you arrived, you asked to use the Internet. The next thing I knew, you were off to see a friend in Argentina. Naturally, I had to know what that was about. And then when I heard you were headed for Detroit…”

  “What?” I say. “How did you know that?”

  Mitron just smiles. I’m totally confused. And then it hits me.

  “The guy who pulled me off the plane in Miami—you know him, don’t you?”

  I get another smile from Mitron, this one cryptic. Yeah, Mitron knows the guy all right. That’s why I got pulled aside. That’s why I got questioned. But why? What’s Mitron’s angle? He’s supposed to be a good guy, isn’t he? The Major worships him.

  “Why are you here?” I ask him.

  He glances at his watch again. What’s he waiting for? Or maybe the question is, who is he waiting for?

  “The real question, Rennie,” Mitron says, “is what you are doing here. It would have been so much easier, so much better for everyone, including your father, if you had simply gone back to Canada where you belong.”

  When I was little, I used to do stuff my grandma didn’t understand, usually dumb stuff that drove her crazy. She used to ask, “Why on earth would you want to do something like that, Rennie?” I’d pretty much give her the same answer every time: “I dunno.” And she’d sigh and say I was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. It was something a guy named Winston Churchill said once, and my grandma said it “described me to a T.”

  It also describes Mitron. Every time he opens his mouth, things get more puzzling. I guess my expression makes that point.

  “I didn’t follow you here, Rennie. I was going to come one way or another.”

  Noah stirs. “You said—” He stops when Mitron waves the gun at him.

  “What do you mean, he said?” Katya wants to know. “Noah?”

  Noah refuses to look at her.

  Mitron continues talking to me. “Your grandfather and I crossed paths once before, a long time ago.”

  That was news to me.

  “My father was in the government of Juan Péron. You know who he was, Rennie?”

  Yeah, I know. He was president of Argentina back then. My grandma insisted I watch the movie Evita with her—Madonna as Péron’s wife, Eva. I hated the whole thing from start to finish, but I didn’t tell Grandma. She belted out “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina” right along with the Material Girl.

  “Péron welcomed ex-Nazis with open arms. He thought they could help him with some of his domestic problems. That’s why there was such a large German population in Argentina after the war. Eichmann was there. So was Waldmann. He lived under an alias, but he was found out back in the 1960s. Your grandfather was sent down to bring him to America. He claimed he was ambushed and that Waldmann was taken from him—by the Russians, he said. It seemed plausible enough. The Russians were as interested in Waldmann as the Americans were, maybe more so.”

  “Why would they be interested in an ex-Nazi?” I asked. “To make him stand trial for what he did?”

  “Because he developed a biological weapon. It was reputed to be the most efficient biological weapon ever developed. It was highly virulent, extremely effective at a low dosage, easy to transport, easy to use, capable of neutralizing up to a few thousand square kilometers. Everything you could want in such a weapon. And this is the important part, Rennie—he also developed the vaccine to protect against it. The Americans wanted it. So did
the Russians.”

  I’m staring at him, trying to imagine why my grandfather would agree to have anything to do with Waldmann and his weapon.

  “The Russians never denied that they had taken Waldmann. In fact, I believe they made it known to the Americans that he had died in one of their camps.” He shakes his head. “They must have enjoyed the game. They must have laughed at how afraid the Americans were when they learned that Waldmann and his secrets had fallen into Russian hands. But these things happen. It’s part of the game.”

  Some game, I thought.

  “I didn’t think about Waldmann again—until I heard about your grandfather’s death and the missions he devised for you and your cousins. That tickled my memory. Things have changed in Russia now, Rennie. It’s much easier to get information if you have the right contacts and can pay for it. Even the Kremlin has started to open its archives. I wondered what had happened to Waldmann’s secrets. So I made inquiries.” He shakes his head again. “And do you know what I found out? The Russians never had him.”

  “What?” I say. “You think Waldmann is still alive?”

  He laughed. “That would be a neat trick. He would be well over a hundred years old if he were. No, I don’t think he’s alive. And now I know the Russians never had him, despite what the Americans said. My sources tell me that the Americans never got their hands on him either and that they genuinely believed the Russians had him. That’s what they told the family. I suspect that something went wrong and he never made it out of Argentina.”

  Katya goes still. “Then it’s possible that Noah’s grandfather saw him in Mexico,” she says softly.

  “Noah’s grandfather?” Mitron chuckles. “Believe as you wish,” he says, “but give me that envelope so that I can be on my way.”

  Katya doesn’t move.

  “Give it to him, Katya,” I say.

  “Do it, Katya,” Noah says.

  Katya refuses. “It’s not his.”

  “It’s not yours either, my dear,” Mitron says. “So, please.” He extends a hand.

  I look into his eyes. There’s no hesitation there.

  “Do it,” I say to Katya. “Whatever your great-grandfather did, it’s not worth dying for.”

  “He’s right, Katya,” Noah says. “Give him the envelope.”

  Mitron’s hand is still extended.

  Katya moves toward him.

  A shot rings out. What the—? Then another.

  Mitron buckles. He stares at Noah, at the gun in Noah’s hand, and crumples to the floor.

  Katya opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

  Noah turns the gun on me. The only thing that surprises me is how calm I am. Maybe it’s like they say—you can get used to anything. And in this town, I’m getting used to people pointing guns at me.

  Noah steps forward, his eyes and his gun still on me. He eases the envelope out of Katya’s hand and slips it into his pocket.

  “Katya, I need you to do something for me.”

  She turns wide-eyed to him.

  “I need you to get that gun.” He nods at the weapon in Mitron’s hand.

  She stares at him as if he’s crazy. He wants her to touch a dead body? Her head starts to shake: no, no, no.

  “Katya, listen to me. That man is a criminal. He just wanted the money, and he was ready to do anything to get it.”

  “Unlike you,” I say.

  He ignores me.

  “Get the gun, Katya. Please.”

  Tears are rolling down Katya’s cheeks.

  “Please, darling. Then we can go.”

  “Noah lied to you, Katya,” I tell her again. “His grandfather never saw Waldmann. You heard what Mitron said.”

  “He was the one who was lying,” Noah says. “He was trying to confuse you, Katya.” He puts an arm around her. “I love you, Katya. You know that. Give me that gun and then we can go. Remember our plan? It’s what you wanted to do, right? We can go. We can take care of everything. Then, when we come back, we can get Eric and take him back to Boston with us.”

  “He’s lying, Katya.”

  “Shut up!” Noah glowers at me.

  “What about him?” Katya asks. She’s looking at Mitron.

  “Don’t worry about him. Just give me the gun.”

  “But why did you do it, Noah? Why did you shoot him?”

  “Because he was going to hurt you. Katya, there are lots of men like him around. Treasure hunters. He knew about your great-grandfather, didn’t he? He knew about the safe-deposit box. He was going to take the envelope, and then he was going to hurt you. He had a gun, didn’t he?”

  She nods.

  “Do as I say.”

  This time she does. She picks up the gun and hands it to him. I notice he hasn’t taken off his gloves. I notice Katya isn’t wearing any.

  Noah points the gun at Mitron and fires again and again. Katya cowers, her hands clasped over her ears. Noah doesn’t stop firing until he empties the gun. Then he holds it out to me.

  “Take it.”

  I don’t.

  “Take it,” he says again.

  “Or what? Or you’ll shoot me?”

  “You can take it now or I can put it in your hand later. Your choice,” he says.

  Katya comes alive at that. “What are you going to do?”

  “We’re going to leave. But before we do, we’re going to call the police and tell them where they can find a murderer. Do you have your phone, Katya? Make the call. I’ll tell you what to say.”

  She’s shaking her head again. I don’t know how she thought this was all going to work out, but it’s clear to me that she never imagined this.

  “Call them and tell them you heard shots coming from this house.”

  “But Noah, you—”

  “We’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

  I bet the plan is that I’ll still be here.

  “Make the call, Katya.”

  “Don’t do it, Katya,” I say. “Don’t trust him.”

  “Shut up. Make the call, Katya.”

  “Your prints are already on Mitron’s gun, Katya,” I tell her. “Now he wants mine on them too. But he’s wearing gloves and he’s got the key to the safe-deposit box. He lied to you once. He’s lying to you again.”

  Noah is on me like a flash. His hand darts out, and he hits me hard on the face with the gun. I reel backward. The pain is overpowering. I wonder if I’m going to lose any teeth.

  “My car is outside,” Noah says. “Go wait for me there. I’ll make the call.”

  “What are you going to do?” Katya asks.

  “I said, go wait in the car, Katya.” His tone is sharp. Clearly, he’s an in-charge guy, but the stunned look in Katya’s eyes tells me that this way of speaking to her is something new.

  “Katya, I just want to make sure he doesn’t tell anyone anything until we’re gone.”

  She picks up her purse and slips its strap over her shoulder.

  “Ask him how he’s going to do that, Katya,” I say.

  At first I think she’s going to ignore me. But she doesn’t. She’s frowning when she turns to look at me.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Ask him.”

  Noah wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her on the cheek. She melts against him.

  “Go wait outside,” he says softly. “Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

  But she doesn’t move. “Noah, did you know about my great-grandfather before you met me?”

  “Of course I did. I told you that. My grandfather—”

  “I mean, did you know he was my great-grandfather?”

  “No. I told you that too, Katya.” His voice is soft, reasonable. “But did I know about Waldmann? Yes, I did.”

  “Because your grandfather saw him?”

  “That’s right. That’s what he told me, Katya. I swear it is.”

  “Then why did that man say Waldmann never made it out of Argentina? And those letters. They said that Waldmann died a long time ag
o.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that Mitron was lying?”

  Katya’s confused. I’m not.

  “I know Mitron,” I say. “He had no reason to lie to me. He was here to get that key. He knew what was in that box. Just like you and Noah did.”

  Noah’s lips brush Katya’s cheek. “Trust me, darling. Go wait for me in the car.”

  “Don’t go, Katya. He’s going to kill me. That’s how he’s going to make sure I don’t say anything. Katya, he’s holding a gun that has Mitron’s prints on it. Mitron’s and yours. Not his. Yours. He’s going to kill me as soon as you’re out of the house and—”

  Noah hits me again. This time I fall to the floor. This time he’s definitely broken something. This time I hope it’s a tooth, because that would be better than if it’s my jaw.

  “Get up,” Noah says.

  I struggle to my feet. There’s blood in my mouth. I spit it out.

  Katya starts to walk from the room. A look of triumph crosses Noah’s face. He raises the gun. He’s just itching to use it—I can see it in his eyes. He’s looking forward to it. Nothing is going to stand between Noah and the treasure he’s worked so hard to get.

  Up comes the gun. It’s pointed at my chest—the biggest and surest target, especially at that range. And I already know he can shoot.

  He’s waiting, listening for Katya to leave.

  But she doesn’t. Instead, she walks slowly back to Noah, swings her purse to get some leverage and hits him on the side of the head with it before he knows what’s happening.

  He lunges forward. The gun goes flying.

  I dive for it.

  I grab it and get up on my knees before Noah can recover. I hold the gun on him and pray he doesn’t make me use it. I don’t want to have to shoot anyone—ever.

  Katya is the only one standing. Tears well in her eyes.

  I think, I should call someone.

  The only person I can think of is Detective Carver.

  FIFTEEN

  I’m in the police station again, in a small room with Carver, who is shaking his head. He’s also recording every word I say.

  “So about this cell phone,” he says, nodding at the phone on the table between us. It’s bagged and tagged as evidence. “Tell me again how you came to have it in your possession.”