Vanishing Act

by Linsey Lanier

  Still no one said a word. They were afraid of something.

  Clearing his throat, Parker took five crisp ten-euro notes out of his pocket. The equivalent of about sixty bucks.

  Suddenly every eye turned to him, riveted.

  He thumbed the corner of the bills. “We’re willing to pay for information. If it’s accurate.”

  The boy named Lex jumped up and snatched the bills out of his hand. “There are men who come from a local club. Tough men, but they are always dressed up in suits and drive nice cars. We call them the recruiters.”

  Nanta bobbed his head in agreement. “I thought you were one of them, but they never have a woman with them.” He tried to take one of the bills from Lex, but Lex pulled them away.

  Parker gave both the boys a threatening look.

  “They look for people to train,” Lex continued. “When they find them, they take them away and we never see them again.”

  Were they onto something? Miranda turned to Mark. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “I have seen them, too. But I never talked to them.”

  “What do they train them for?” She could imagine. For the sex trade. Her skin bristled.

  Mark put his hands in his pockets. “I do not know.”

  Had he escaped some fate even worse than the one he was in? She felt sorry for the boy. For all of them. “They didn’t try to recruit you?”

  Lex giggled. “They would not take Mark. He is too skinny.”

  “Skinny?”

  “They want big guys. Strong guys.”

  Didn’t sound right for a sex slave. They’d want someone they could easily dominate for that.

  Lex rolled his eyes. “It is for the fighting.”

  Miranda frowned. “Fighting? Like the army?”

  Lex laughed again. “You Americans are so stupid.”

  With a quick move, Parker snatched the bills out of his hand. “I’m not paying for insults.”

  “Okay, okay. I apologize. We will tell you everything.” He eyed the bills as if they were candy.

  “Go ahead. What kind of fighting?”

  “All kinds.”

  “It is mixed martial arts,” Lex blurted out. “It is a club.”

  Miranda blinked at Parker. An MMA club? “Where is this place?”

  “Near city center.”

  “And what’s the name of it?”

  Mark waved a hand in warning. “Do not listen. He is lying.”

  Lex gave him a shove. “I am not.”

  Mark shoved him back. “You do not know that is where they take the boys.”

  “I do. I heard Dan talking to one of them. He promised him he could make him a great fighter. A winner. Maybe if he was really good he could go to America and fight on the television. The man said he would be rich.”

  This might be a story hatched by whatever they were smoking down here. Still, it would be worth checking out just to see if the place was real.

  “What’s the name of this club?” Miranda asked again.

  Now Mark looked panicked. “Do not tell her, Lex. They will come and kill us if you do.”

  “We won’t tell anyone where we got the information,” Parker assured them.

  Lex held up his fists. “If you do, we will find you and kill you in your sleep.”

  From the mattress Nanta smirked. “You will not have to, Lex. Someone from the club will do that for us.”

  They all laughed.

  What kind of an MMA club was this?

  Parker held up the bills. “One more time. The name?”

  “It is called Udar,” Mark said.

  “Udar?” Sounded like something to do with a cow.

  He nodded vigorously. “In English it means ‘Punch’.”

  That was enough. They could find it.

  Parker gave her a knowing glance. “Thank you for your honesty,” he said to the boys.

  And then he tossed the bills up in the air and let them fall.

  While the young people scrambled for them, he and Miranda hurried back through the labyrinth and out into the fresh air.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Miranda pulled the car door shut with a thud. “That was disturbing.”

  Parker’s look was grim as he climbed in behind the wheel. “Remind me to make a donation to one of the local homeless shelters.”

  “I will.” And she’d make one herself.

  He began to drive away from the crowded train station.

  It had started to snow, and the flakes against the windshield, washed away by the steady swish of the wipers, made the streetlights blur overhead. Traffic was heavy now. Everyone in Kiev was heading home. Those who had homes.

  And even in this beautiful city with its ancient streets and golden copulas, she knew only too well that a cozy home life was never a given.

  She’d been there, but she’d been lucky. She’d survived. And thanks to the man beside her, she’d found a life with purpose.

  Reaching across the seat she squeezed Parker’s hand.

  He squeezed back. “Feeling sentimental?”

  “I just want you to know how much I love you. And appreciate you.”

  Her words made him smile. “I love you, too. You know you’re everything to me.”

  “Yeah, I do.” She wanted to go back to the hotel, order champagne and strawberries, crawl into bed, and make love to him all night long.

  But they had work to do.

  Instead she peered out the window. “Are we going to try to find that club?”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Their source of information wasn’t exactly reliable, but they had no other leads.

  “Nope.” She let Parker’s hand go and dutifully reached for her phone. After swiping around for a while, she found an address. “Here it is. Udar. About five kilometers to the northeast.” She couldn’t read the names of the streets.

  At the next light, Parker punched the address into the GPS.

  They drove back toward the main part of the city, past the endless apartment buildings until the architecture took on the Old-World charm again.

  After a while they reached an area with bars and restaurants. City dwellers bundled in warm coats and hats hurried along the sidewalks, heading for an evening out.

  Craning her neck, Miranda scanned the signs, trying to make them out. Finally she spotted one with a sketch of a fighting cage and the letters U-D-A-R scrawled over it in an angry font that was supposed to be intimidating.

  The place was real.

  “There it is. Sure enough, it’s an MMA gym.”

  Parker slowed as they drove past. “I don’t see anything unusual from the outside.”

  “Looks like an ordinary training gym to me.” A lot like the ones she used to frequent in the States before she met Parker, only a bit nicer. Probably a pricey one.

  There were no available parking spots along the street near the club, so they drove around the block. Twice. Then they tried farther down. Finally they found a spot in a dark little side street where iron bars guarded the lower windows of a neoclassical style building.

  Miranda could see graffiti scribbled on a nearby wall. At least she thought it was graffiti. Kinda hard to tell with the Cyrillic alphabet.

  Parker turned off the car. Instead of getting out, Miranda tapped a fist on her knee.

  “What is it?” Parker turned to her with a knowing expression.

  “Doesn’t it seem unusual for a mixed martial arts club to recruit homeless kids?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.”

  “A club like that makes money from paying customers. Repeat customers.”

  “Perhaps it’s a charitable endeavor. To give young homeless boys legitimate work.”

  “Or illegitimate work.”

  Parker’s look turned dark. “That thought also crossed my mind. But from the outside the club looks genuine.”

  That didn’t prove anything. And if there was something fishy going on, they had no idea what they would be up aga
inst inside Udar. “Maybe we shouldn’t ask about Sasha right away.”

  His brow rose. “What do you propose instead?”

  “Let’s just go in and look around. Act like we’re interested in training.”

  “Ask for a tour of the establishment?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Maybe talk to a few customers. Get a feel for the place.” Then she scowled. “They’re going to know we’re American as soon as we set foot inside.”

  “Most likely.”

  “And they’ll ask questions.”

  “Most assuredly.”

  She stared out the window at the streetlamp in the next block. “How about this? We can say I’m an American amateur wannabe looking to pick up some techniques to add an edge to my fights. You can be my manager.”

  His gray eyes glowed in the low light. “I love the way your mind works.”

  She grinned. “I’ll need a name.”

  “Any ideas?” Parker seemed to be enjoying this.

  “Hmm.” MMA nicknames for women fighters ranged from Rowdy to Preacher’s Daughter to Cupcake. She thought of one of her favorite expressions. “How about Peachy?”

  “Peaches,” he corrected with a smile.

  She cringed at the sound of it, but nodded. “Sounds good. Let’s see what we can learn.”

  “Very well, Peaches. I hope you’ll enjoy my training schedule.”

  With a smirk, she got out of the car and started down the sidewalk.

  Chapter Twenty

  The brisk walk to Udar in the cold night air had Miranda’s blood pumping by the time they reached the front door.

  They could be close. To what, she had no idea, but if those boys living under the apartment building were telling the truth, they just might find Sasha here.

  Parker opened the glass door, and she stepped inside to a gleaming reception counter. Behind the counter, a shimmering curve of white Plexiglas displayed the Udar logo and other slogans in Cyrillic.

  A young woman in a white blouse and an equally white smile sat at the desk.

  As they entered, she greeted them with a string of gibberish that had to be a sales pitch. The only word Miranda recognized was “Udar.”

  “Good evening.” Parker removed his hat and gave her a hesitant smile, pretending to feel awkward. “We were in the area and decided to drop in.”

  The woman’s smile widened, and her teeth seemed to sparkle as much as the backdrop. “Ah, Americans, no?"

  “Yes, yes,” he chuckled, as if embarrassed she’d realized his nationality so quickly. “That’s where we’re from.”

  “How may we be of service to you?” she sing-songed.

  “It’s really about my protégée, here.” He gestured toward Miranda. “We’re looking for somewhere she can train while we’re in town.”

  Miranda gave her a hopeful grin. “We’d like to look around your facility, see what you have to offer.”

  “If we may,” Parker added.

  “Of course. I will call someone to escort you.” As she started to rise, a man came around the curve of the wall.

  He was a tree trunk. Six-four, ultra bulky, and at least two-hundred pounds. Muscles bulged from the tight knit of his dark gray T-shirt. Blending with the Udar logo on his chest, tattoos graced his biceps, forearms, and the side of his neck. His hair was cut short on the side with a smattering of tight red curls across the top, and he sported a bit of facial hair. His eyes were dark and menacing.

  “Oh, Sergei,” the receptionist sang out. “There you are. We have guests from America. They are interested in training.”

  He smiled at them as if they were long lost friends and extended a hand. “Welcome to Udar. My name is Sergei Chumak. America? A long way to come.”

  Miranda shook with the man, relieved he didn’t break her fingers in his huge grip.

  Undaunted, Parker gave the hand a hearty shake. “Actually, we’re vacationing here. I’m Wade Parker and this is Miranda Steele.”

  They wouldn’t recognize their real names.

  With his dark gaze, Sergei scrutinized first Miranda, then Parker. “An unusual time for a vacation. Most tourists come in the spring or the summer.”

  Parker continued to smile. “It was the only time we could get away.”

  “I see.”

  Miranda noticed a glint of suspicion in Sergei’s eye. Suppressing a sudden rush of nerves, she straightened her shoulders and did her best Ronda Rousey impression. “Well, Sergei, I’m known around the American circuits as Peaches.”

  His thick brows rose. “Peaches?”

  “That’s right. Wanna make something of it?” She raised her fists.

  Parker cleared his throat. “Down, girl. We’re wondering if we can see your facility.”

  With an amused glance at Miranda, the big man nodded. “Most certainly. Come with me.”

  Parker shot Miranda a don’t-overdo-it look as they followed Sergei around the curve of the wall and into a well-lit, wide open space. High above was a huge glass dome ceiling where you could see the stars.

  Down below, the area was filled with a sea of treadmills, recumbent bikes, and weight machines. About a dozen customers were working out, two-thirds of them women. All dressed in a colorful array of tank tops and slim-fitting yoga pants and gym shorts. Most of them wore ear buds, and ignored each other.

  Miranda squinted at the faces of the men. None of them looked like Sasha, but they were far away.

  Sergei spread an arm in a grand gesture. “This is our general fitness area. We have cardiovascular and strength training. Our equipment is top of line.”

  Miranda put a finger to her chin. “That’s cool, but we’re more interested in your mixed martial arts training. You do have that, don’t you?”

  “We do. It is upstairs.” He led them up a tall set of shiny wide aluminum steps. As they ascended, Sergei went into salesman mode. “We offer state-of-art equipment and best coaching. Many classes, too. kickboxing, Brazilian jiu jitsu, and MMA. Our trainers will push you to the limit.”

  Something about Sergei’s condescending tone irked her, but for now Miranda ignored it. They had to get some information out of this guy.

  Here goes nothing, she thought. “I do some amateur fighting.”

  “That is right. Peaches. What is your specialty?”

  “Muay Thai.”

  She’d taken to the techniques of punches and kicks when she was first learning self defense. But her real specialty was a mixed bag of dirty street tricks and whatever worked at the moment. On top of that, the Parker Agency had taught her discipline.

  “I’m looking for something unusual to add to my arsenal.”

  “Ah, perhaps Sambo.”

  “That would be different.”

  They had reached the huge open area on the second floor.

  Here the air was full of the sweat and grunts of men working out. In one corner a rhythmic whipping sound came from a muscled Titan who was doing power waves with battle ropes. Near the ropes, three big behemoths were pounding away in a forest of sleek black heavy bags hung from iron scaffolding. In the opposite corner, another group of big dudes were working with a trainer on the mats, practicing their stances and jabs.

  Miranda strolled over to them and studied the faces. In her mind, she tried to age Sasha’s picture. None of them looked like a match.

  “I guess you train mostly locals?” she said, looking for a tell in his reply.

  Sergei shifted his weight. “Most of our students are locals, yes.”

  He might be hiding something. She couldn’t be sure. “Some of them become famous, don’t they?”

  He chuckled. “Some of our students go on to professional careers. I’m not sure if I would call them famous. Is that what you are looking for, Ms. Steele? Fame?”

  “Maybe. You mentioned Sambo?” she said quickly to change the subject.

  “A combat sport developed in the nineteen-twenties by the Red Army.”

  She’d heard of it. It was a particularly vicious style of
fighting. “I might be interested in that.”

  “Our Sambo trainer is not on the premises right now. He will be in tomorrow. Can you come back?”

  “Would you like to come back tomorrow?” Parker gave her a long look.

  Did they need to? They certainly hadn’t learned much of anything so far. And keeping up this ruse was risky. What if those homeless boys had made up a story just for the money? They hadn’t seen anyone in suits. If this place was legit, coming back would be a waste of time.

  Sergei gave them another one of his ingratiating smiles. “How long will you be in Kiev?”

  “We’re not sure yet,” Parker said. “But I wonder if you have a complimentary pass you can offer us as a trial.”

  “Of course. Wait here.” With a polite bow, Sergei turned, strolled across the floor, and disappeared into a rear hallway at the back.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Miranda whispered to Parker, “Does that guy give you a creepy feeling?”

  “He does have an ominous edge, but that doesn’t necessarily prove what we were told tonight.”

  He was right. They needed more for that. “Let’s split up and question the patrons.”

  “I was about to suggest the same thing.”

  Miranda did a turn and caught sight of a full-sized octagon cage in gleaming black. Several large men were stationed around the enclosure watching a couple of guys in a practice bout, and shouting instructions to them.

  “Wow,” she said under her breath. “This place is the real deal.”

  Parker gave her shoulder a squeeze. “See what you can find out there. I’ll take that area.”

  “Okay.”

  And with his suave stroll, Parker headed off toward the battle rope section.

  Miranda took off her coat, slipped it over her arm, and sidled up to the side of the cage where a man stood watching the action.

  He looked maybe twenty-five. Too young to be Sasha, but had he been recruited from the streets? Maybe he’d met Sasha here.

  He gave her a glance from the corner of his eye, but didn’t acknowledge her presence.

  As the two fighters danced around the ring jabbing at the air, she eyed him carefully.

  Dull brown curls peeked out from a knit cap. Dark blue T-shirt and dark gray sweat pants garbed a well conditioned body. He had the cauliflower ears typical of fighters. He had to know something about the inner workings of this place.