An Image of Death (33 page)

She pushed through, peeled off her jacket, and headed into the family room. I hung back, slightly awed by her brazenness. She looked over her shoulder to see if I was following.

I laid the gun on the hall table. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mika.” She spun around. “The woman on video—she is—was—my friend. Her name is Arin.”

My pulse quickened. Still, I forced myself to be cautious. This woman hadn’t done me any favors at Celestial Bodies. I stood at the edge of the family room. “You ran away from me at Celestial Bodies. You rifled through my bag. How do I know you’re not setting me up now?”

“You bring police. Yuri there. I cannot talk.”

“Yuri?”

“Manager of club.”

The bouncer. I considered it. She could be telling the truth. She was a woman—defenseless, alone—she had to go along with the program. Still, I hesitated. Mika shot me a look, then crossed her arms at her waist and started to strip off her t-shirt.

“Hold on. What do you think—”

“I am showing you something.” She proceeded to pull the shirt over her head and tossed it onto the chair. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Look.” She touched her left breast.

“I’m sorry. This is…I’m—”

“Look!” she insisted.

I glanced over. Tattooed on her left breast was a small torch. With two stars rising out of the flames. I swallowed.

She flashed me a small smile, retrieved her shirt, and put it back on. “You see now.”

I nodded dumbly.

She tucked the shirt in her jeans. “I am thinking Arin dead because of me,” she said softly.

“You? How?”

“I am sending her to dentist.” Her bottom lip quivered. “But we not talk here.” She zipped up her jacket. “I see Starbucks close by. You meet me there.”

“Wait a minute. Am I in some kind of danger?”

She answered indirectly. “Your street have many places to hide. We go where there is people.” She backtracked to the door and out to the Buick.

I peered out the window. If someone was hiding in a shadowy corner or driveway and we left the house, they could follow us. But Mika was right. Staying here—isolated and alone—probably wasn’t a good idea. I grabbed my coat and followed her out. Before I left, I stowed the gun in the hall closet.

I followed Mika to the coffee shop at the corner of Willow and Central. Inside, Mika ordered a latte. She waited for me to pay for it. I ordered one, too, and paid for both. It was nearly closing time, and aside from the young man at the counter, there were only two people in the place. So much for trying to blend in with the crowd.

I sat at one of the small tables near the window. “
You
were the one who wanted me to see the tape.”

She nodded. “I tell you I come back, no?”

“Yes, but I didn’t get the note until—well, it doesn’t matter now.”

She sat down and pried the lid off her drink.

“How did you get the tape?” I asked. “And why did you give it to me?”

She took a sip of her coffee and promptly screwed up her face. She set the cup down. “When I first come to U.S., I am working as maid. For your neighbor.”

“You worked for Lillian Armstrong?”

She nodded again. “I see you one day with camera. Lights. All in big truck. I know you are TV person.”

Mac’s van. He must have been picking me up for a shoot. I started to shake my head. “But I’m not—”

She flicked her hand. “When Arin dead, I get video and tell Petrovsky bring it you.”

“Petrovsky?”

“He—he is looking out for me. Even after they make me go to club. He like, how you say?” She searched for the word.

“Like a brother?”

“
Da
. Like brother.”

“Is that why he came to Celestial Bodies?”

She frowned, as if she was having trouble following me.

“The night of the snowstorm. When I showed up. We followed him over.”

“Ahh.” She nodded. “
Da.
He is bringing me dinner sometimes. And vodka.”

“He was doing that the night of the storm?”

“He is coming to make sure I am okay. I am having flu before.”

“Is that why you didn’t deliver the tape yourself?”

“No. I cannot bring tape because I cannot leave club. They bring us. They take home. I am like prisoner. So I write note. But now, you see, I am gone.” She shrugged.

“What did you think I would do with it?”

“I want you to give to TV. Or police. After we talk.”

“Why?”

“So that—this will all stop.”

“What? What must stop?”

She lifted her chin and looked around, as if checking for potential pursuers. “I want to talk to you at club. But I afraid. No more.”

“Who were you afraid of?”

She was silent. Then, “Vlad.”

“Who is Vlad?”

She paused. “He was my husband.”

I sat very still.

“He was officer. In Russian army. Lieutenant.” A wistful look passed over her face. “But when Soviet Union fall, he—he is getting into pies.”

“Pies?”

She curled and uncurled her fingers. I shook my head. What was she trying to say?

She leveled me with an impatient look. “He get in things. Bad things.”

A flash of understanding passed through me. “He had his fingers in many pies.”

“
Da
. He is starting with drugs. Cars, vodka, girls. Then weapons, even diamonds.”

“And you went along?”

“What choice I have? I—we have nothing. No money. No food. Not even house. Vlad say we not bad ones. Real criminals in Duma and police, he say. And Kremlin.”

“But he’s still in Russia, and both you and Arin were—are here. How is he connected to Arin?”

“Arin’s father-in-law is Major General Yudin of the Vaziani base.” At my puzzled look, she added, “In Georgia. Where we is living. He and Vlad together do business.”

“Arin lived on the base, too?”

“Her husband is lieutenant like Vlad.”

“And her father-in-law was involved in criminal activities?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “They start before government fall.”

I frowned at the casual, almost offhand reference to such endemic corruption.

“Is Arin’s husband involved, too?”

“Arin’s husband dead.” She averted her eyes. “She has son, you know. Tomas.”

“I didn’t know.”

We were quiet for a moment. “Vlad and I apart long time now, but he leaving Russia three years ago. Rival groups too much—how you say—fighting in.”

“Infighting?”

“Yes. He go to Grand Cayman.”

I remembered what Frank said about parking money in offshore accounts. Grand Cayman was the mother of all havens. “Grand Cayman? Why there?”

“They have new partner. He and Yudin. An American. Very high up.”

“An American? Are you sure?”

She nodded. “When we still in Georgia, Vlad and Yudin is meeting with him. He—the American—get them into U.S. with good money.”

“Good money?”

“How you saying when you turn bad money into good?”

“Money laundering?”

She took another sip of her coffee and nodded vigorously. “
Da
.”

I drew in a breath. The pieces were falling together. “Do you know this man’s name, this American?”

“
Nyet
.”

“Mika,” I said, “have you ever heard the name Max Gordon?”

“No. Who is this man?”

“An American businessman…with ties to Russia and Eastern Europe.”

“I not know this man.” She leaned forward. “But I know Vlad. He is never giving up. And he never forget. He say he will rule world someday.” She paused. “He will kill me, you know.”

“Why?”

“Because I tell you these things.”

I frowned. “So why are you?”

Her eyes clouded. “He make bad my life. Kill my friend. Is enough.”

“He killed her?”

“She is coming to me from Cayman. She see Vlad. He want her. She tell him no. His men beat her. But she get away. Then find me at club.”

“But Grand Cayman is a thousand miles from here. He couldn’t—”

She snorted. “Vlad is powerful. He have friends everywhere. Even Chicago. He say kill, they kill. Like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I tell her to go to dentist, then go away. Far.” She looked down. “But is not enough time. They find her.”

I rubbed my eyes. An image of Arin on the tape came back to me, rising to greet her killers, her face hopeful, expectant. “If he’s that powerful, how come he hasn’t come after you?”

She gave me a long look. “He is.”

“He is?”

“After dentists killed, I go away. I know they come for me.”

I remembered Davis saying how she’d disappeared when she went back to Celestial Bodies. “You ran away after we showed up?”

She nodded. “Petrovsky help.”

“You’re both on the run?”

“
Da.
”

“But how do you know they’re coming after you?”

She put her cup down again. “Sofiya say,” she hissed. “She see Arin when she come to club.”

Sofiya. The head dancer. The madame. Sofyia and the Angels. “Sofiya knows Vlad’s men?”

“Everyone is knowing Vlad’s men.”

“Okay.” I let out a slow breath. “So how did you get the tape in the first place?”

She shifted slightly, almost imperceptibly. “The dentist…Russian who is killed…he is being my customer.”

“He was your—oh.”

She shot me a look that defied me to stand in judgment of her. “When Arin come, her tooth gone. She need help. I am sending her there.” She looked down. “I am not knowing they find her. Afterward, he and his sister is needing to go away. He very scared.”

“The dentist?”

“
Da
.”

“He had reason to be,” I said sadly. “Did he—was he the one who…disposed of Arin’s body?”

She nodded. “He must. But he doesn’t like. Last time he visit me, I tell him to bring me tape. He give it me. I give you.”

“I get it.” I sipped my latte. “But there’s something…well…Vlad is—was your husband. Why do you think he would kill you?”

She gave me a sad smile. “He kill anyone who stand in his way.”

“Why didn’t he kill you before this?”

“He is having no reason to kill whore.” She shrugged. “Until now.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-FIVE

She couldn’t move afterward. The pain was so total, so overwhelming, she wanted to surrender to it, let it swoop down and take her away. At times it did. She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen unconscious or slept. When she finally came to a sustained awareness, it was dark. For a moment she panicked, thinking she had gone blind. Gradually, though, objects materialized out of the dark, and she was able to discern shapes that were blacker than others.

She was in a room. On a bed. A bare mattress. No sheets or blanket. It was night, but a weak blue light filtered through the room. Coming from somewhere behind her. She tried to go toward it, but waves of dizziness rolled over her when she moved. She had to force herself to breathe.

She didn’t know how much time went by while she lay still and motionless. When the wooziness subsided, she mentally checked her body parts. Her limbs seemed to be intact, but a sharp, excruciating pain tore through her jaw. She wondered if it was broken.

Gingerly she felt around the bone. A large bulge that radiated fire protruded from what had been smooth contours of flesh. Her face must look like one of those topographical maps Tomas studied in school. But she couldn’t dwell on him now; she might fall apart. She pulled herself to a sitting position. More dizziness.

She concentrated on her breath. Hold it in. Let it out. Again. In time the room stopped spinning, and she leaned toward the light.

A window. And it was open! She lifted her head. A languid, tranquil breeze wafted over her. The sky had cleared, and a pale wash of moonlight illuminated the room. Hundreds of stars pixillated in the heavens. They seemed much closer here than they did at home.

Slowly she got up and shuffled to the window. Why was it open? And why hadn’t they tied her down? She was clearly their prisoner. Had Vlad ordered them not to? No, Vlad was cruel. A man without compassion. There had to be some other reason.

She discovered it when she leaned her head out. Below her was a two-story drop to a large slab of bare cement. There was no landscaping around it, no furniture to act as a cushion. Her body would shatter on impact if she was foolish enough to jump. They knew that.

Past the deck was the beach. The property sat on the rim of a cove that was protected by a sandbar. Beyond it, the waves were treacherous and fierce, but they diminished to gentle swells by the time they came ashore. In the opposite direction was the forest she’d been driven through. For some reason it seemed thicker than it had a few hours ago. As if the vegetation was slowly proliferating, encroaching, turning the island into jungle.

She leaned her head out the window, trying to gauge how many meters it was to the forest. She couldn’t tell. She was about to stretch farther when the beam of a flashlight bobbed below. She ducked back inside in time to see a large man rounding the side of the house. A weapon was holstered at his side. Of course. There would be regular patrols. She wondered how frequently he made rounds.

She threw herself back on the mattress. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this. She had grown up loved and secure. Met her husband in her first flush of womanhood. Moved with him to Georgia, certain they would lead a charmed life. Now, thirteen years later, Sacha was dead, and she was the prisoner of his best friend. Was that the sum total of her life? Did fate intend her to spend the rest of her life on this island?

No. That was unacceptable. She sat up. The hour seemed late. Perhaps, if they were sleeping.… She got off the bed and jiggled the doorknob. Locked. Her shoulders sagged. She lay back on the bed and stared at the wall, trying not to feel suffocated. She couldn’t give up.

She was still staring at the wall when she saw it. The faint outline of a door. Cut into the wall, it blended in so well she’d missed it before. She jumped up. The shape of the door was barely visible. More like a hairline crack. She inserted her finger in the crack and tried to pry it open. Nothing moved. Her finger throbbed with pain. She took a breath and tried her fingernails instead. Nothing. She bent down. The crack seemed to be wider near the floor. She lay down, slid the tips of her finger underneath the sliver of space, and pulled. After an excruciating moment during which she feared her fingers might be ripped from her hand, the door opened.