An Image of Death (28 page)

She had just finished bathing and dressing in her new Fendi sarong and tank, thinking how drab her winter clothes looked in comparison, when there was a knock on her door. She wondered if it might be the Swiss businessman. She’d seen his sly glances when he thought she wasn’t watching. It wouldn’t be unpleasant to spend an evening with him. The night, too, if it came to that. She opened the door.

She’d never seen the two men before. One was large and burly, the other small and thin. The large man, though well into middle age, apparently still clung to his vanity; his thinning hair was combed forward. The smaller man looked like his nose had been broken once or twice. They were wearing casual island clothes, but they looked uncomfortable in them, like little boys dressing up.

She felt a tickle at the back of her throat.
“Da?”

The large man replied in Russian. “We are here to extend an invitation to you for the evening.” He wasn’t smiling. “We will take you.”

Arin glanced warily at both men and shook her head. “Thank you, but I have other plans.”

She started to close the door, but the small man blocked it with his foot and pushed his way in. The tall man followed.

“Your host will be most disappointed if you refuse,” he said. “In fact, he insists that you come.”

Arin glanced around. She’d had a near brush with danger once when she was negotiating with a buyer. The man protested her prices were too high, and then suddenly pulled out a gun. Luckily, she’d been able to talk him down, but after that she made it a point to conduct business in daylight and only in well-populated areas. If she sensed trouble, she would simply walk away and melt into the crowd. Now, though, there was no daylight, no crowds.

But there
was
the phone. She spoke quietly, masking her fear. “If you do not leave this villa immediately, I will call security.”

The two men exchanged amused looks and stationed themselves on either side of her.

She had no chance. Better to play along. For now. “Yes. All right. But who is this host you speak of?”

The large man answered, “You will see.”

“And if I refuse to come?”

“You will not.”

There was a window in the bathroom, Arin recalled. She’d opened it after her bath. “I will go. But please allow me to freshen up a bit.” Grabbing her bag, she went in and started to close the door.

“The door will stay open.” It was an order.

The men were brawnier and stronger than she was. She complied. As she applied a fresh coat of lipstick, she noticed her shaking hands. She forced herself to stay calm. Fearful people do not think well. She transferred a wad of money into her evening bag. She debated whether to take her passport, but decided to leave it in the room.

With night hugging the beach, the men led her out to a Range Rover that looked black in the light. As her eyes adjusted, she wondered if this was the act of a disgruntled customer? Mentally, she ran through her client list. The Israeli in Tel Aviv told her she drove a hard bargain, but he’d smiled when he said it. The Jews in Antwerp didn’t care about price—they simply passed it on to their customers. The same with her clients in Geneva. It couldn’t be a client, she concluded. No one except Yudin knew she was here. And Yudin didn’t know her customers.

The car pulled away from the villa and started down Seven Mile Beach. She gazed out at the night. Tiny clouds, tinted gray in the moonlight, scudded across a navy sky. Hundreds of stars twinkled in the heavens. Was this a random kidnapping? She’d heard stories of young women who disappeared in the tropics. Hundreds of years ago, pirates took them captive. There was even an island named for them, somewhere in the U.S.

Twenty minutes later, they skirted Savannah on the southern coast and started east. The East End of Grand Cayman was more sparsely populated than Seven Mile Beach, and the coastline stretched into craggy rocks occasionally broken up by a villa. At Bodden Town, they turned inland into a thickly wooded area. The outlines of ferns, cacti, and palms loomed dark and menacing against the patchy moonlight. Finally the vehicle emerged from a thicket. In the center of a clearing was a brightly lit villa. The Range Rover swerved up to it, kicking up loose gravel.

Arin climbed out. The villa had been built in splendid isolation on a rocky ridge. Standing sentinel over the ocean, it was a two-story building with a pitched roof and glassed-in doors. Lush landscaping surrounded the front.

The men led her up a flagstone path to a glass door that spilled light across the sand. The small man slid it open and gestured for her to enter. They ushered her into a large, airy room with slate floors and stucco walls. A fan near the ceiling made slow, desultory circuits. A man was sprawled on the couch.

Arin gasped. He was older now, his face thicker, his dark hair silvered at the temples. But otherwise it was the same Vlad. The same crooked smile. Pale eyes that shone like fiery coals. Clothes that fit like a second skin.

“Hello, Arin.”

A rush of fury broke over her, so powerful she was shocked. It had been over ten years since she’d seen him. She thought she’d flushed him out of her life, discarded him like a used rag.

“Hello, Vlad.” She struggled to gain purchase over her emotions, and surprised herself with her calm. She looked around the opulent room. “You are doing well.”

“As are you.” He stood, his eyes tracking her up and down. “You are even more beautiful.”

She nodded, forcing herself to think. The hotel. She’d thought someone was watching her last night. She’d had the same feeling while she was shopping. “You saw me in the restaurant.”

“Among other places.” He went to a bar built into the wall and poured a shot of Jack Daniels. He gulped it down, poured another, and offered it to her.

Among other places? Had he been following her? How many times had he seen her? She took the proffered glass. “What do you want?”

He padded back to the sofa and sank down. “There isn’t much that I do not know about you, Arin.” He patted the cushion beside him.

She snuck a glance at the men that had brought her here. The vain one hung back at the door. The smaller one had settled in a chair and was studying his nails. “I will stand.”

A fleck of annoyance surfaced on Vlad’s face, but he blinked it away. “Did you like the fruit basket?” He smiled. “I insisted they put in mangoes and bananas. You cannot get those at home.”

She didn’t answer, but Vlad continued as if she’d thanked him properly. “Your business skills have developed quite nicely. Not that I had any doubt.”

“My business skills?”

“The diamonds, Arin. You have a gift. Many gifts. But the diamonds—the way you have worked with Yudin. It has brought me much pleasure.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I told you, there isn’t much I do not know.”

Suddenly another memory tumbled through her mind. Yudin and Vlad, meeting regularly in the major general’s office. She had suppressed those memories when she left Georgia. She felt a sick twisting in her stomach. “You and Yudin. You have been working together.”

He raised his glass in a mock toast. He reminded Arin of a predator, seemingly lazing in the sun, but waiting to pounce on his prey in an unguarded moment.

She shifted. There was more. She had a feeling he was waiting for her to make another leap of logic. When she made it, the revulsion that swept through her was so fierce the glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the slate floor. “I’ve been working for you!” she cried. “All this time—Yudin…and I! We have been working for you!”

Vlad laced his fingers behind his head. “You must have known. You are not a stupid woman.”

But she was stupid. She hadn’t known. Or was it, she thought as the small man collected the broken glass, that she didn’t want to know? She’d always suspected Yudin had a silent partner. For all his bluster and posturing and conference-going, Yudin wasn’t smart enough to manage the business alone. Still she’d never asked who it was.

Part of her must have known. The years she’d struggled to free herself from Vlad, to strip every vestige of his memory from her mind, had been a waste. She’d been caught in his web all along. She sank down on a chair, spasming between fear and loathing.

Vlad smiled, clearly enjoying her turmoil. “Come now, Arin. Did you think Yudin bought those tickets out of the goodness of his heart?” He snorted. “The fool does not have an unselfish bone in his body. But.…” A mild frown spread across his face. “I was sure you knew. That your silence meant that you acquiesced.”

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

Vlad steepled his index fingers, tapped them against his chin. “I suppose it does not matter. In a way, it only reinforces what I have already decided.” He swung his legs around and stood up. “I do hope you’ve enjoyed your little vacation, Arin, because it is about to come to an end. While I am certain you would prefer to while away the days and nights in this island paradise, and.…” He paused. “I would like to while them away with you, that is not why you are here. I have a business proposition for you. An ‘offer,’ as they say in America.”

Her mind was foggy, streaked with rage, but she forced herself to concentrate. To play along until she could figure out what to do. “What sort of offer?”

He kept his hands clasped together as if he were praying. “There will be a time, quite soon, when Yudin will become…unnecessary.”

Arin trembled.

“The market for blood diamonds has tightened. The politicians have listened to De Beers and have mandated those fucking certificates of origin. Which makes it difficult to market our stones. Prices are not what they used to be. I know you are seeing that.”

He was right. Her prices had dropped—not significantly, but they were lower. “That is not Dimitri’s fault.” She was surprised to find herself defending Yudin, but it was clear—now—that Yudin was as much of a victim as Sacha. And Mika. And herself.

“Neither is it yours,” Vlad said. “But Yudin has nothing more to trade. He was useful at first, particularly for the contacts he made at his conferences. But now, there is just the arsenal on the base.” He shrugged. “Most of the decent weaponry was ‘procured’ long ago. All that is left are the dregs—old Kalashnikovs that barely fire, grenades shipped back from Afghanistan. Nothing of interest to my current clients. Which makes him no longer necessary.” He paused. “But you, on the other hand, are.”

Arin tightened her lips.

“You see, while diamonds are only one part of my ‘portfolio,’ they are a significant segment, and I will be needing a new source.”

She knew what was coming. Armenia’s leading mineral exports were its precious and semi-precious stones. Cut diamonds too. Every year Russia supplied Armenia with 30,000 carats of rough diamonds, plus a million carats of industrial diamonds for processing. In fact, over 25 percent of the world’s diamonds now came from Russia, much of it through Armenia.

“You have a unique position at the Yerevan plant. You see the best of the Russian stones. I was hoping that you—”

“You want me to steal them and sell them for you.”

“Not sell. I have other venues for that.” He went on, “I will pay handsomely. More than you ever received from Yudin. Your family and your son will live in luxury.”

“If I steal for you.”

He held up a hand. “No moral outrage, please—you have already been doing it for years. Now I have decided we should work together. You have a rare talent. A good eye. It would be a shame to waste it.” He appraised her with a look that made her feel naked. “But you should know…the diamonds are just the beginning. Already I am bigger than Russia. There is no limit to where I can go.”

Arin felt her face harden. “The U.S.?”

“The land of opportunity.” He smiled. “I have contacts there. ‘Associates.’”

“Through Yudin?”

“The bankers and businessmen he cultivated are falling all over each other to invest in Eastern Europe. Some choose not to look too deeply into those investments. They take our proceeds and invest them in legitimate American ventures. Businesses. Real estate. Even banks.” He chortled. “And, of course, Mika is in Chicago plying her trade.”

She stared. “What do you mean, plying her trade?”

“She already fucked everyone in Europe. Now she’s doing the same in Chicago.” He sneered. “I have kept track of her over the years, too.” He ran his tongue over his lips. “But you…you are different. I have plans for you. I want you to be a part of my world.”

She mustered all her self-control and reason. Pump him. Maybe she would discover something that would help her escape. “Your world? An outpost island everyone knows to harbor criminals? Why here, Vlad? Why do you not go back home?”

“Russia is no longer a place for an honorable man. The criminals in the Duma and the police have ruined the country. There is nothing to keep me there.”

Arin stifled a laugh. Did he really consider himself honorable? He was a soldier. Trained for combat. And soldiers never retreat by choice. She had heard the stories coming out of Russia, how it was run by armies of street thugs and worse. If Vlad had left, he must have been squeezed out by more powerful thugs.

Except he wasn’t behaving that way. He spread his arms wide, like a viceroy acknowledging his fiefdom. “I am happy here. Treated well. I pursue my own opportunities. All this…you could share.”