“You are Tatyana Trevena?” he said without looking up.
“Yes —,” Anna replied, but was interrupted immediately.
“Why did you change your name to Anna Rykov?” he said, still focused on the file.
“And who are you to detain me and ask such questions?”
“You are a Russian national, correct?”
“I am a naturalized American citizen.”
“Yes,” the man said flatly, “by marriage to another Russian living in New York.”
“That arrangement was made by my parents!”
“They sold you for passage to the United States.” Anna saw that the man was trying get her to lose her composure.
“Such arrangements were commonplace in the old country,” she said calmly, “and Fyodor Rykov was also a naturalized American citizen.”
“The records at the time of his entry into the United States were not as thorough as they are today, and his citizenship can be retroactively revoked with justification.”
“And why would you go to such trouble?” Anna said with irritation. “What have I done to merit this treatment?”
“You studied at Columbia,” the man continued, ignoring Anna’s annoyance, “but you went back to the Soviet Union to do your fieldwork. While you were there, you had several visits from the NKVD. Why were they so interested in an archaeological expedition?”
“The NKVD was suspicious of Americans in their territory. The dig was sponsored by Columbia —”
“But the lead archaeologist was a Russian,” he glanced at the file, “Aleksey Sergeyevich Uvarov.”
“Yes, this is correct.”
“And Aleksey Sergeyevich Uvarov had been previously barred from entry into the United States as a suspected NKVD agent.”
“I know nothing of this,” Anna said, still annoyed. “Professor Uvarov is the foremost authority on the Varangians, who were the subject of my thesis.”
“Was,” the man said, looking up for the first time. “He was executed by the Soviets for sedition a few weeks ago.” The man was looking to gauge Anna’s reaction, but she maintained a practiced, neutral expression. “You are not surprised by this information?”
“Conditions in the land of my birth are precarious. That is why so many wish to leave.”
“And, of course, being a Jew, like Marx and Trotsky, was especially perilous for you in the Soviet Union,” the man said pointedly. “You would have done anything to get out. Like marrying an old man for entry into the United States to establish yourself as a sleeper agent.”
“That is preposterous!”
“And yet,” he said, throwing a handful of photographs and papers onto the table in front of Anna, “we have photographic evidence and witness statements suggesting such activities.”
Anna examined the “evidence.” There were several photographs of her in New York City with the gangster Mickey Elder and his dominatrix colleague Rose. There were also photographs of her with Harry Lamb and the vagrant Ganon, who had turned out to be Lamb’s commanding officer in the Great War.
She noted a signed statement from Felix Wilkinson, Administrator of the Oak Valley Sanitarium, where the spiritualist Brian Teplow had been confined in secret, among others. Wilkinson swore that he had been coerced by Anna and her colleagues to divulge protected doctor-patient information, and that she had had knowledge of the gangsters who had brought Teplow to his facility.
“You have been documented consorting with known criminals, intimidating officials like Detective Halley, and conducting strange and disturbing researches.” He closed the file with a snap. “Cease your inquiries into the Hooverville situation, and your involvement with Ogden Shroud.”
“You know what is happening, you do not want it to stop, and you do not want me to bring attention to the situation. Who are you, and what do you know of these events?”
“I am J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the Bureau of Investigation.” He paused to let that information sink in, but Anna’s expression remained neutral. “You have no business pursuing this matter. Leave it alone or the Bureau will look into your affairs more closely.”
Hoover nodded, and he and the other man left the room, taking Anna’s purse with them.
Chapter 14
March 12, 1930
Suddenly, Anna was overwhelmed by a feeling of vertigo, swooned, and laid her head on the table. She was dazed. Had they drugged her somehow? No. Her mind had been suddenly flooded with images and information. What she received were images of J. Edgar Hoover heading the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as his organization would ultimately be called, through years of glory and infamy while collecting secrets used to blackmail the rich and powerful. At the same time, she saw Hoover exposed as a homosexual and ostracized, ultimately taking his own life. And she also saw Hoover arrested and imprisoned for abusing his power.
Along with the imagery of Hoover, she saw Ogden Shroud being committed to an asylum for the shootings in Germany and eventually dumped on the streets of Boston. She also saw him summarily executed for the events at the farm. And she saw Shroud promoted to an officer on account of his experience and serving in a principal espionage role in another war against the Germans. Anna reasoned that, in her bewilderment following the interrogation by Hoover, she must have inadvertently sent a flood of inquiries to the collective.
Another volley of images entered Anna’s mind. This time she saw herself carefully rise and make her way discretely out of the police precinct. She also saw herself locked in an asylum and forgotten. And she saw herself back in Brian Teplow’s world as the dutiful elder daughter, with Sobak and her family in their home. Anna realized that the first of the three images was the best outcome.
She slowly sat up. The vertigo came, but subsided quickly. Anna pulled a pair of pins from the cuff of her jacket sleeve and picked the lock of the handcuff. Then she rose to her feet and waited a moment until she felt stable. Then she padded quietly over to the door.
Through the frosted window, she saw no signs of movement on the other side. She tried the handle, and the door was not locked. Taking a deep, centering breath, Anna opened the door and stepped confidently out into the hallway. As she rounded a corner, Anna saw a side exit from the building. She walked casually up to it and out into an alley. The door closed behind her, and she noted no handle on the outside.
She walked carefully down the alley, away from the front entrance. She took a circuitous route back toward the Ritz-Carlton, but as she approached the front entrance from the south, a heightened awareness alerted her to several young men, of similar build and in similar suits and hats, arrayed strategically on the block by the front entrance.
No sooner had Anna spotted the agents staking out the hotel than she was grabbed by the arm and pulled into the coffee shop she had visited the previous night. She turned to see Ogden Shroud holding a duffel bag. Instead of his uniform, he now wore an old corduroy jacket over faded overalls with the collar of a faded, red flannel shirt peeking out, and a black watch cap. Shroud led her deeper into the shop, out of view of the front window.
“I saw some of those guys in the hall,” the soldier said quietly, “and they looked like trouble. They went to your room and started looking around, so I hightailed it out of there.” He handed Anna the bag. “I don’t know what you did, but those G-Men aren’t being too subtle about their interest in you.”
“Mr. Hoover himself told me to abandon my inquiries into the events in Hooverville,” she looked pointedly at her companion, “and to part ways with you. I suspect that they know of what you saw in Germany, and they have classified it as a military secret.”
“Well, they know about your interest in the strange things going on, and they know what you look like, so you’d best change into the stuff in the bag. It’ll help you blend in better on the street.” Anna looked in the bag.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was donated by the some of the folks in Hooverville. They’re prepared to hide you among th
em so you can continue your investigation. They're watching Cletus now.” He pointed to a door in the back of the shop. “You can change in there.”
When Anna emerged again, she had been transformed. She had replaced the skirted suit with a pair of worn and patched men’s trousers, a long-sleeved flannel shirt, a stretched-out sweater, an over-sized, worn, wool jacket, and fingerless cotton gloves. She had wrapped a kerchief around her head to conceal her hair and knotted it in the front. Lastly, Anna had adjusted her makeup to be more subtle but still conceal the scars on the right side of her face.
“That should do,” Ogden said, eying Anna up and down appraisingly. Noting that she was carrying the duffel bag, he said, “Leave that. You won’t be able to wear those things anymore.” He guided her back toward the rear of the shop. “Out the back door.”
As they crossed the room, Anna noted their image in a mirror hanging on a wall. She looked quite different. Poor, but not like she had as a child in Russia. She looked American. And in their matching attire, she and Ogden looked like just another young couple overcome by the financial collapse.
◆
The two returned to the tent colony from the north, the opposite direction from the Ritz-Carlton. They could hear laughing children before they caught sight of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument. There, they found the young people chasing Cletus around the marble pillar, enjoying the big dog’s random changes of direction.
“I thought seeing him running loose would make the G-Men think you had abandoned him,” Ogden said.
“That was a good idea, but they know I am investigating the deaths here. They will keep this area under surveillance.” She scanned the immediate vicinity, but did not see any of the similarly dressed young men. “We had best get into hiding until after dark.”
“This way,” the soldier said, taking Anna’s hand in an intimate manner.
At first she was surprised by his forwardness, but she realized that his gesture was for show to establish their new personas. She let the young man lead her through the crowd. Many of the women judged her with their gazes. Despite her attempts, Anna still appeared to be in better condition that those around her. However, Anna noted when some of the women recognized her and distracted their neighbors to allow the pair to disappear into the shanty town.
Shroud led them to a collection of scrap wood, cardboard, and some bricks that turned out to be covering a deep hole dug into the snow. Inside the makeshift shelter, Anna saw Rosemary and Joseph arranging the small space. By the light of an oil lantern, she could see six sleeping areas, as defined by piles of blankets and straw. The two farthest from the entrance, and least visible, appeared to be of recent construction and unoccupied.
“You can stay here as long as you need,” Joseph added. “We’ll lead anyone looking for you away.”
At Rosemary’s beckon, the newcomers examined the spaces laid out for them. To her surprise, beneath a thick pile of blankets for her was an old, but serviceable mattress. Shroud examined his space, but there was only straw beneath his covers.
“This is too much,” Anna protested. “Surely you or your neighbors need these things more than I do.”
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth!” Rosemary said with matronly severity. “You’re not accustomed to the chill like we are, and you don’t have them warm clothes anymore. You’ll be lucky not to catch cold out here.”
“Thank you for your consideration,” she said sheepishly and laid down in the bedding to try it out.
“It’s the least we can do,” Rosemary said. “Them Federals don’t care about us. But you do, and we thank the Lord for bringing you to us.”
“And what of Cletus?” Anna asked with sudden anxiety.
“He’ll be just fine,” Joseph replied calmly. “He’s been adopted by the children and seems to be able to fend for himself.”
“I hear he’s been looking around for the best place to bed down,” Rosemary added with an unexpected grin, “and the kids are competing to make him feel welcome.”
“We’ve told them to keep him away from here, but he’ll be nearby when you need him,” Joseph added.
“Very well,” Anna said. “It seems that we are your guests at least until nightfall. However, we need to make some preparations.”
“What do you need us to do?” Joseph asked.
Chapter 15
March 12, 1930
Darkness, and the temperature, had fallen when Anna emerged from the makeshift shelter. The shanty town was illuminated by the lights of the surrounding buildings, but the drifts of snow and the trees created a pattern of light and darkness that left great areas of shadow among and around the shelters.
The gloom of the wet chill, which suggested more snow soon, was amplified by the doleful silhouette of the full moon, which was barely visible through the low-hanging clouds that also obscured the tops of the tall buildings. Anna shuddered and pulled her thin wool coat tighter around her. She was given a cloche hat by one of the women when it was evident that she was not adapting to her new circumstances well.
In the intervening hours, Anna had outlined her plan, which was to capture and question Cain Dickson. Joseph had recruited a dozen men and women from Hooverville to keep watch for their former neighbor, with instructions from Anna that they were not to approach him. They were to patrol in pairs, and if Dickson was spotted, one was to keep him under surveillance while the other informed Joseph or Rosemary, who in turn would tell Anna inside her shelter.
Anna did not tell the residents of Hooverville that the man they had seen was not Cain Dickson, but a Xuxaax in disguise. The monster was searching for women who resembled her, and killed the men to cover its tracks. When it was found, Anna and Ogden would follow the creature to its lair and deal with it there.
That had been the plan, but after several hours inside the cramped enclosure, her muscles had become stiff, and she found Ogden Shroud uncomfortably close. In spite of the hot stew that Rosemary had prepared just outside, the damp chill penetrated her clothing and seeped into her bones. Once it was dark, Ogden had persuaded Anna to stay inside, practically blocking her exit from the shelter, but eventually she was so cold that she needed to move to get her blood flowing and crawled over the soldier. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close
“I have not said anything until now,” Anna whispered in his ear, “but you should not assume to take such liberties with me, even with the best intentions.” Then she squirmed out of his arms and exited the shelter.
In the wan light of the nighttime landscape, Anna was indistinguishable from the other people around the tent city. Suddenly she was knocked down from behind and landed face first in a snowbank, but was quickly flipped onto her back by a wet muzzle that licked the snow from her face. Cletus sat next to Anna, leaned in against her, and wagged his tail. His furry warmth was a welcome relief.
“Don’t be so obvious,” Anna mock-scolded the dog. “You’ll give my cover away.” She scratched his ears and ran her bare hands over his wet, fluffy coat. Cletus woofed once as Ogden emerged from the covered hole in the ground. He pat Cletus’ flank, and then pulled Anna to her feet.
“Don’t sit in the snow,” he admonished in a whisper, “It’s a sure sign that you’re not from around here.” He looked around and then added, “No one else is sitting in the snow. They know that if your clothes soak through, they’ll be wet until spring.” He patted her body down front and back to brush off the snow without consideration for where his hands went. Anna noticed that several people were watching and took hold of his wandering hands.
Their embrace was interrupted by Cletus, who interposed himself between the two and separated them. Several of the onlookers laughed and returned to their own affairs.
Anna noticed Helen, mother of the missing Angela, staring at her. She stepped over to the woman.
“In the moonlight,” the old woman said, “you’re the spittin’ image of my girl.” She wiped a tear from her face, and Anna took hold of her sho
ulders.
“We will find out what has happened to her,” Anna said with confidence. “We are only just beginning our investigation.”
“I just hope them Federals don’t scare that good-fer-nothin,’” Helen replied.
“I do not think that they would deter him, if he is what I think he is,” Anna said.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I just mean that we must have hope,” Anna said, realizing her blunder, and embraced the woman.
Helen’s concern evaporated when Cletus again appeared and separated the two.
“He sure looks out for you,” Helen said, stooping to speak to Cletus face. “You keep her out of trouble, now,” she said, patting Cletus’ head.
“We need to stay together,” Ogden said as he put an arm around Anna’s shoulder. “You can’t run off like that. If the G-Men come after you, I can lure them away so you can escape. But not if you wander off.”
“Your man has your best interests in mind, too, honey,” Helen said. “You would be wise to listen to him.”
Before Anna could say anything, the older woman ducked into her own shelter.
“That is what I am talking about,” Anna said to Ogden as she removed his arm. “People think that we are a couple.”
“What’s wrong with that? You fit in better as part of a couple than by yourself. Look around — there aren’t any unattached women here.”
Anna realized that her companion was correct. She had not seen any unescorted women in Hooverville. Even the older teenage girls were in the company of a man, if not in groups when in the shanty town.
“Very well,” she conceded reluctantly. “But do not get any ideas about making our ‘relationship’ more intimate.”
The Hunter in the Shadows Page 8
