The Bach Manuscript

by Scott Mariani

  ‘He and Dad did a lot of work together in the past, made a lot of money together. But this time round, nothing doing. The trail was looking deader with every passing year. Meanwhile, Dad met up with Miriam Silbermann several more times in New York, and at her home in Switzerland, reporting his progress to her, probably trying his best to sound optimistic. But even he knew, in his heart, that nobody could ever hope to penetrate the KGB. Once those guys had it, the game was over.’

  ‘I’m guessing your father didn’t accept that too happily.’

  ‘No, it broke his spirit. He started drinking around that time, and his relationship with my mom suffered a lot. It’s a wonder I was even conceived.’ Madison managed a small smile. She paused, scratching at the Formica tabletop. ‘On top of everything else, I think he was already in love with Miriam Silbermann, even if he’d never have admitted it to himself at the time.’

  ‘They had a relationship?’

  ‘Never. Dad wouldn’t have done that to Mom. But Mom could be a difficult woman, and he wasn’t exactly the most attentive husband, and things were strained between them through most of the marriage. He was captivated by Miriam, talked about her endlessly, even years later. It’s not a big stretch to imagine he had stronger feelings for her. I know he did.’

  Madison paused again, and gave a sigh. ‘And so it went on, for sixteen years. Somewhere in the middle of it all, I was born and started growing up. Dad was still travelling about the world, dabbling in other projects, but without much enthusiasm. I sometimes went along with him, and even though I was just a kid I got the taste for it, the travel, the detective work, the hunt.’

  ‘Except in the end you gravitated towards a slightly different profession, hunting people rather than treasure.’

  ‘And I’m damn good at my job. Anyway, then 1991 came around. A big year. First, Mom died, within just weeks of her diagnosis. It was a terrible shock. Next major event in our lives, same year, the Soviet Union collapsed. Suddenly, right when he should have been deep in mourning, Dad starts getting as jumpy as a bloodhound on a scent. He’d come back to life. Quit the booze, packed his case, and off he went to pick up the trail. Why? Because he’d had a tip-off from Ulysses that with the USSR falling apart, former KGB agents had been selling off valuables from the state coffers on the sly. Armed with a contact number or two, Dad set sail for Moscow.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And came back almost a month later empty-handed and even more twisted up about it than before.’ Madison shook her head and heaved another deep sigh. ‘And that was pretty much the last we heard about the manuscript. There was no telling what might have happened to it. Even knowing it was locked up in the hands of the KGB was better for Dad than imagining it being sold off to a private collector, or drifting around Christ knew where, or being lost again.

  ‘But the worst thing of all was having to tell Miriam Silbermann that it was over. He flew to Switzerland to break the bad news to her in person. When he returned, he headed straight for the nearest bar and woke up three days later in Central Park. Never said a word to me about it, but he was never the same again after that. A sixty-one-year-old multimillionaire, and he looked like a hobo twenty years older. He abandoned his career and embarked on his next great project, drinking himself slowly to death. Eventually, the phone stopped ringing. The office sat empty, just the way it is now. I haven’t had the heart to terminate the lease.’

  ‘Where is your father now?’ Ben asked.

  ‘He moved to a little beach house on Oahu, Hawaii, eight years ago. My idea. I figured he’d be better off someplace warm. Maybe a mistake, I don’t know. I go to see him when I can – in fact I visited just a couple days ago – but I don’t think he even registers my presence. All he does is sit on his veranda, staring out to sea. I don’t know what he sees, or what goes on inside his mind. I think he’s just waiting for the end. And I guess the end will come, soon enough.’

  Ben was silent for a moment as he digested Madison’s sad account and tried to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

  ‘But it’s not the end of the story, is it? While your father was wasting away on his beach and you were off hunting fugitives, the manuscript resurfaced. We’ll never know what journey it made from Moscow, who had it, how many hands it passed through before it popped up in a little backstreet shop in Prague a year ago, and my friend Nick brought it home without even realising what it was. But someone else did.’

  Ben told her about Adrian Graves, his scheme to acquire it, the sticky end to which he’d come and the manner by which the manuscript had landed in the possession of the Serbians, first Dragan Vuković and now his lord and master, Zarko Kožul.

  ‘I think I understand how the rest goes,’ Ben went on. ‘Kožul probably had no interest in the manuscript to begin with, but then he had second thoughts and made a call or two, put the feelers out and realised that maybe it was worth something to him after all, even if he just flogged it off on the cheap. He’s probably got a network of criminal fences ten times bigger than your father ever did, back in the day. And that’s a pretty small world. I think word of the manuscript’s reappearance on the market reached the ears of this man who calls himself Ulysses. Ulysses then contacted your father’s old office in New York and left an urgent message, maybe more than one, to alert him. Which then got relayed to his home in the Hawaiian Islands. Your father might no longer be in touch with reality enough to answer the phone or pick up messages. But it so happened that his devoted daughter was there for a visit, the only other person who knew the story of Rigby Cahill’s quest to find the Bach manuscript.’

  Madison arched an eyebrow. ‘Nice work, detective. You’re a real smart guy. A regular Mike Hammer.’

  ‘You called Ulysses back and convinced him to deal with you personally, on your father’s behalf. Ulysses handed you the connection to Kožul, along with the nightclub address here in Belgrade. You didn’t waste time jumping at the opportunity to finally get back the one thing you believe could make the old man happy again. And here you are.’

  ‘Here we are, Mr Hammer,’ she corrected him. ‘Question is, what happens now?’

  ‘What happens now is that you get on the next flight home and forget this,’ Ben said. ‘It’s not worth the risk you’re taking.’

  She gave him the fierce frown again. ‘Because I’m a woman? You don’t think I can handle myself in a tough spot?’

  ‘Tell me something. What exactly were your intentions when you came to Belgrade? To set up a meeting with the charming Mr Kožul and make him a tempting cash offer for the goods?’

  ‘Negotiate with these scumbags? You must be kidding, right? Even if I had the money, no chance. That’s not how I do business, baby.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Which leaves the one and only option of doing it the hard way.’

  ‘Which I have no problem with at all.’

  ‘Zarko Kožul isn’t your regular class of murderous lunatic. This is someone who’s most in his element when he’s torturing and butchering large numbers of innocent victims. Ever heard of the Srebrenica massacre?’

  Madison said nothing.

  ‘If you don’t know what his unit did to those people, then keep it that way. You don’t want to know. This is a man who gets his kicks from putting his enemies inside a car crusher and filming them getting squished to death. We’re not talking about serving bail bonds or enforcement of speeding tickets here.’

  Madison stiffened like a cobra about to strike. ‘Oh, because I’m not used to dealing with hardcore crooks. Like the jerk last year in Tucson who beat his wife and three kids to death with a hammer and burned their bodies in a pit because she told him he looked like Baxter Burnett. Wasn’t a movie fan, I guess. Or the other psycho dickhead in Nashville who chopped off both a guy’s arms with a chainsaw because he looked at his sister, then blew away three Sheriff’s deputies who came to arrest him. There’s only one reason neither of those slimeballs is gonna taste freedom again, if they live
to be a hundred. And you’re looking at her.’ She jabbed her thumb to her chest.

  ‘Fine,’ Ben said. ‘I have no doubt you can look after yourself. You proved that tonight. So let’s say you did manage to get past an army of Kožul’s men and snatch the manuscript back. Assuming he hasn’t already sold it on by now. Let’s also say you were able to get out of this in one piece and deliver the damn thing to your father on Oahu. What do you think that’s going to change?’

  ‘I have to believe it will,’ she said. ‘It’s my only chance to bring him back from wherever he is right now.’

  ‘Even though he’s virtually catatonic? You said yourself, his brain’s gone. He’s hardly more than a vegetable.’

  She flinched as though he’d slapped her. ‘Don’t mince words, Ben. Tell me how you really see it.’

  ‘If my choice of words is brutal,’ Ben said, ‘that’s because I’m trying to make you understand the reality of this situation. As much as I admire your dedication to your poor old father—’

  ‘Cut the crap,’ she interrupted. ‘Will you help me with what I came here to do, or not?’

  ‘The answer is no, Madison. I’m not going to help you get yourself killed for nothing. For your father’s sake, as well as your own, go home.’

  She shook her head. ‘No way. You’d have to drag me on board that plane inside an iron box with chains around it. Even then, I’d break out and whoop you like a red-headed stepchild.’

  ‘This is my hunt. I work alone.’

  ‘We’ve already seen how that went for you.’

  ‘I’d have got out of it.’

  ‘Bullshit.’ She fixed him with the steely manhunter stare that he could imagine her giving to some fugitive desperado she’d just nailed, .45-calibre eyes pointing at him. Her face was hard as slate. Then the twitch came to the corner of her mouth, and flickered into a crooked, one-sided smile. The hardness in her eyes gave way to a twinkle of mischief.

  ‘Besides, I know something else,’ she said. ‘Something I’ll bet my butt you don’t.’ She paused, waiting for a response.

  Ben said nothing.

  ‘Like you said, small world. Ulysses has all the same shady contacts Kožul does.’ She paused again, waiting and watching for his reaction.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So Ulysses knows people who have done business with Kožul in the past,’ she said. ‘He might even have done business with him personally, though he might not say so.’ She paused again. Teasing.

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it so happens that Ulysses is in on the big, big secret. Closely-guarded information he wouldn’t divulge to a living soul, except maybe to sweet little ol’ Maddie, the daughter of the legendary Rigby Cahill, for old times’ sake.’

  Ben was tiring of this game. ‘What secret?’

  Madison’s smile twitched wider. She leaned across the table towards him.

  ‘I know where Kožul lives.’

  Chapter 48

  The nav coordinates Ulysses had given Madison to locate Zarko Kožul’s remote hideaway were over ninety kilometres from Belgrade, a short helicopter ride but too far to drive in a car whose bullet-chewed rear end was all too likely to attract police attention. Ben had her call the rental agency’s 24-hour customer hotline from the supermarket cafeteria to report the Octavia stolen.

  ‘Whoops. Not happy,’ she said when she’d finished making the call.

  ‘They’ll get over it.’

  ‘What are we going to do for transport?’

  ‘That won’t be a problem.’ He pointed at the table menu. ‘You want to eat something now, or would you rather wait until breakfast? We’re in no rush.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to go to Kožul’s place.’

  ‘It can wait. Kožul probably isn’t even at home right now. My guess is he’d have flown into town to check out the damage to his operation, and won’t be back there till morning. Some heads will have to roll for what happened tonight. One or two of his people will probably end up in the crusher.’

  ‘You really got that crusher on the brain, haven’t you?’

  ‘We’ll wait for the dust to settle, let him get home and let off steam. Then we’ll hit him in the afternoon, when he’s not expecting it.’

  ‘So what do we do until then?’

  ‘What normal people do, get some rest. It’s been a long day and tomorrow will be longer.’

  They walked outside into the night. The mist had blanketed itself more thickly over the city, and the temperature had dropped another degree. They left the supermarket car park without a glance at the Octavia, and set off up the road at a brisk pace.

  ‘A damn sight colder than Colorado this time of year, that’s for sure,’ she said, rubbing her hands together.

  ‘Is that where your home is now?’

  She laughed. ‘When you hunt fugitives for a living, you can forget having anything much of a home life. Grand Junction was my last job. The next one, I don’t know yet. Could be someplace down in New Mexico, could be way up in Alaska.’

  He nodded. ‘I used to live that way, moving around all the time. Sometimes I used to forget where to go back to afterwards.’

  ‘Settled now?’

  ‘In theory.’

  ‘Married?’

  He shook his head. ‘You?’

  She gave a shrug. ‘They say Maddie Cahill always gets her man. But that’s one guy who’s escaped me, so far.’

  ‘I’m sure the White Knight will come along eventually. As long as you don’t shoot his kneecaps out on the first date, it could be the start of something beautiful.’

  ‘Geez, now I realise where I’ve been going wrong all this time.’

  They walked on in silence. After a few kilometres, they were in a low-grade suburban residential area inland from the river. The streets and houses were dark, with the darker silhouettes of cars in driveways and dotted along the kerbsides. Ben stopped outside a driveway, walked a few steps towards the house, glanced at the darkened windows, and whispered, ‘This one will do.’

  ‘This what?’ she whispered back, but he was already too busy examining the vehicle he’d picked out to reply. An old-model Range Rover. Four-wheel drive. Minimal security. Not in the best condition. Easy to break into, cheap to replace. Within two minutes, he was inside and working on the ignition wiring. The house was still in darkness.

  Madison poked her head in the open door and hissed, ‘Car theft? You can’t be serious.’

  Ben removed the fat wad of Serbian banknotes that was overstuffing his wallet. He plucked out a sheaf that felt about the right thickness and gave it to her. ‘Go and post this through the letterbox.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’

  ‘But I’m not a car thief.’

  Madison stared at him, then scampered up to the house, shoved the cash through the front door and came running back to jump inside the Range Rover as Ben got the engine fired up and the rasp of the engine broke the silence of the night. An upstairs light came on. A man’s silhouette appeared at the window, looking out in alarm at his car skidding backwards out of his driveway. There was a shout. Then the Range Rover was screeching away down the street in a cloud of diesel smoke, and was gone.

  Five kilometres away, Ben switched the plates for ones he removed from a rusted-out Lada, and dropped the originals down a drain. ‘You’ve done this once or twice before, I see,’ Madison dryly observed.

  ‘Practice makes perfect. Now let’s go and find a place to hole up for the night.’

  ‘Like normal people,’ she replied.

  On the far edge of town, they spotted a motel with a vacancy sign and pulled in. The old fat guy in reception was fairly drunk, but still mostly coherent, and spoke better English than Ben spoke Serbian. He looked surprised when Ben told him he wanted to book two rooms, but before he could answer Madison nudged Ben’s arm and cut in, ‘Why splash out for two rooms when one will do fine? We just spent most of our cash on a car, remember?’

  Ben looked at her. ‘Our cash?’ />
  ‘In any case, we only have one room available,’ said the old fat guy.

  ‘We’ll take it,’ Madison said, then turned to Ben. ‘Pay the man.’

  ‘Whatever you say,’ Ben said, and paid the man.

  The room was small, with a ramshackle double bed covering most of the worn carpet and just enough space to walk around it. The en-suite bathroom was as functional as most military latrines Ben had encountered. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ he said.

  Madison clucked her tongue. ‘There you go again.’

  ‘There I go again what?’

  ‘Pandering to the little woman. You think this chivalry thing is cool, or something? I’m as happy sleeping on the floor as the next guy. You take the bed.’

  ‘Do what you like, but I told you I’m having the floor and that’s that,’ Ben said, grabbing a pillow from the left side of the bed and tossing it down on the carpet.

  ‘Dumb as a rock and twice as stubborn,’ she muttered. She grabbed the other pillow and dropped down out of his sight to stretch out on the floor on the other side. A hand came up and yanked a blanket down off the bed to cover herself with.

  ‘Look who’s talking. I thought Roberta Ryder was the most obstinate female I’d ever meet.’

  She craned her head upward to peer at him over the bed. ‘Who’s Roberta Ryder?’

  ‘Good night, Madison.’

  Ben clicked off the sidelight, then lay down, closed his eyes and was dreaming within a minute. In the middle of the night, he awoke, heard Madison Cahill’s soft, regular breathing as she slept nearby, and realised she’d climbed up into the bed after all.

  He smiled and went back to sleep.

  Chapter 49

  The next morning, Madison demonstrated that she’d regained her appetite by attacking the biggest breakfast Ben had ever seen in a truck stop down the road from the motel. Even the largest truckers were gawking at her in awe. ‘Eat when you can, right?’ she said between mouthfuls of egg, sausage and bacon. It might not have been traditional Serbian fare but at least there was little danger of finding a human ear in there.