by Alex Archer
“Onoprienko!” one of the men roared as he vaulted down from the fire escape and pursued the man who wore only his underwear.
Rao assumed Onoprienko was the man’s name, though he had never heard of him. Still there were many things Rao didn’t know about concerning Maurice Benyovszky, and he hadn’t had much time to learn them or even identify the things he didn’t know.
Onoprienko ran down the sidewalk and the two younger men pursued him, waving their weapons and threatening passersby.
At first Rao had been confused because he certainly hadn’t expected a war to break out in that building, but from the staccato reports that had blasted forth from the structure, that was exactly what it had sounded like. He worried about Annja Creed. From everything he had seen and heard, she was a good person. She was just in his way, one more person to go through to find the elephant
He didn’t want anything to happen to her, though. When he saw her framed in the apartment window on the fifth floor from which the running man had climbed down, he felt relief. When she tracked the running man with her eyes and prepared to climb out onto the fire escape, Rao guessed that the man had something to do with the elephant.
In the next moment, he was surprised when Annja Creed did not take up pursuit of the man and halted her climb from the window. Instead, she pulled herself back into the apartment, raised her hands and turned to face someone. Rao assumed that she had been detained.
The man who had escaped the apartment kept running, moving with considerable haste now.
Rao ran, flowing through the pedestrians on the other side of the street where his quarry shoved through the crowd slightly ahead of him. Both of them achieved the same speed, though Rao left no one cursing in his wake as the other man did.
Police sirens screamed into life and came nearer.
Onoprienko ducked into a hair salon at the next corner and the two gunmen were only a few feet behind him, closing fast. Rao crossed the street, taking advantage of the stalled traffic, and drew closer to the men, as well.
One of the large plate glass windows suddenly shattered and the harsh drumbeat of gunshots rolled over Rao as he took cover. Three women dressed in salon capes and a man in a barber’s apron ran from the building.
Inside the salon, Onoprienko had taken up a position behind a short wall festooned with potted plants. One of the potted plants erupted, throwing dark soil, ceramic shards and the ivy in all directions. Another bullet chipped a wedge from the top of the short wall only inches from Onoprienko’s face.
Onoprienko swore and fired his pistol three times in quick succession. His shots struck a chair, ripped pages from a magazine atop a short glass table and smashed the wall of a large aquarium, flooding the tiled workspace with water and fish.
Moving quickly, Rao launched himself into the building, grabbed the coatrack that stood to one side of the door and slung the garments from it with a vicious shake. He charged into one of the two younger gunmen, flattening him from behind. Aware of the threat from a different quarter now, the other gunman tried to turn around, but he was too slow. Rao swung the coatrack and caught the man in the face, striking him solidly on the jaw. The man’s eyes rolled back up into his head as he fell.
The first gunman recovered slightly and tried to bring his weapon to bear. As he moved, Onoprienko fired and bullets cut the air between Rao and his opponent.
Spinning the coatrack in his hands, Rao kicked the pistol from the man’s hand, then drove the coatrack’s base down on either side of the man’s head. The support strut between the two legs of the coatrack slammed into the man’s head, batting his skull against the tiled floor with a meaty thunk.
Onoprienko hesitated a moment, trying to identify Rao, then opened fire again. The bullets struck the coatrack, snapping it in two. Rao dove to one side, slapping the ground to absorb the shock, then getting to his feet when he heard Onoprienko’s weapon fire dry.
By the time Rao got to the back of the salon, Onoprienko was already through the rear door. Rao followed, catching up the man quickly.
Fortune favored Onoprienko, though. A pizza delivery guy stood to one side of the alley behind the salon with a pizza in one hand. The guy was singing along with whatever was playing through his ear buds. Onoprienko threw himself into the car and slid behind the wheel.
“Hey!” the startled pizza delivery guy yelped, his attention snared by the sight of Onoprienko streaking past. He started forward, then backed away when Onoprienko pointed the empty pistol at him.
Rao had almost reached the vehicle when Onoprienko put the transmission in gear and floored the accelerator. The tires shrieked as they grabbed the pavement. Onoprienko oversteered and the front of the car smashed against a wall and he backed into a garbage bin. The clangor of the collision hammered Rao’s hearing.
He almost had his hands on the car, realizing then that he had no means of stopping it. But Onoprienko pressed down harder on the accelerator and the garbage bin flew down the alley and out onto the street. Horns blared and rubber screamed as drivers tried to avoid colliding with the car.
Onoprienko slammed on the brakes and cranked over the steering wheel before flooring the accelerator again. Police cars were only then arriving at the building Annja Creed had flushed the man out of.
Unable to do anything, Rao watched as Onoprienko and whatever he represented sped away.
Chapter 17
Annja sat at Detective Joe Broadhurst’s desk in the homicide bull pen and worked on her tablet, searching through the archaeology websites she’d used in her search for the elephant. With all the carnage that had been found in Onoprienko’s apartment, she, Klykov and Serov had been immediately taken into custody. Not arrested. At least, not yet, but judging from how upset Bart had been—as well as his bosses—that could happen soon.
She glanced around. Bart still hadn’t come back from the investigation at the crime scene. He hadn’t been happy. They’d started out with two murders that morning, or last night depending on perspective, and now they were going to be in double digits if a couple of guys died in the hospital as expected.
Annja wished she could help, but trying to help had brought them to this place. She needed to find that elephant and figure out what this was all about.
Onoprienko had apparently gotten away scot-free. How can a man dressed in underwear covered in bright red hearts just disappear? But this was New York and stranger things than that had happened.
She’d gotten a few hits on the elephant posting.
HEY ANNJA,
SAW YOUR ELEPHANT. LOOKS REALLY COOL. I’M SURE YOU’VE NOTICED THAT IT’S PROBABLY INDIAN IN ORIGIN. SMALL EARS? IF THIS IS AN ARTIFACT, AS YOU SEEM TO THINK, AND IT’S REALLY OLD, MAYBE IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH PLINY THE ELDER’S QUOTE ABOUT THE ELEPHANT BEING THE ONLY ANIMAL NEARLY AS SMART AS A MAN. ALEXANDER WAS TRAINED BY THE GREEKS, AND HE CONQUERED A LOT OF TERRITORY WHERE INDIAN ELEPHANTS WOULD APPEAR. MAYBE LOOK IN THOSE AREAS? OR AT ALEXANDER?
[email protected]
Annja wrote a quick note of thanks, but knew the subject matter was too broad. She’d already thought of those possibilities. She needed something that would narrow down the hunt, give her more of a true target. She moved on through the list.
HEY, DID YOU EVER READ “THE TOWER OF THE ELEPHANT” BY ROBERT E. HOWARD? I DID. IT HAD AN ELEPHANT IN IT UNTIL (SPOILER ALERT) CONAN KILLED IT TO SAVE IT FROM BEING TRAPPED BECAUSE IT WAS A BEING FROM ANOTHER WORLD TRAPPED BY AN EVIL WIZARD. I LOVE YOUR SHOW! JUSTIN (AGE 10). ADDRESS WITHHELD.
HEY JUSTIN. I DID READ THAT STORY AND LIKED IT A LOT. THANKS FOR WRITING.
The missive wasn’t helpful, but it did make Annja feel better. She’d done school visits to promote her books and the television show (something Kristie Chatham had done exactly once, a high school, and was blacklisted from doing so again) and enjoyed the curiosity kids exhibited withou
t holding back. Curious minds were awesome to engage with.
The next entry was from [email protected]
EVER HEARD OF GANESHA? THE GOD OF WISDOM IN THE HINDU PANTHEON? EVERYBODY LOVES THAT ELEPHANT. HE HAS A HUMAN BODY AND AN ELEPHANT HEAD.
ONE VERSION OF THE STORY GOES LIKE THIS. THE GUY WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN CREATED BY PARVATI, THE CONSORT OF SIVA, WHEN SHE WAS LONELY. SHE WANTED A SON BUT SIVA DIDN’T WANNA BE NO BABY DADDY, SO SHE COVERED HERSELF IN OIL, ROLLED IN DIRT, THEN RUBBED THAT OFF AND SHAPED THE RESULTING MUD PIE INTO A KID. ONLY HE WAS FULL GROWN.
SHE TOLD THE KID/YOUNG GUY TO GUARD HER HOME. THEN SIVA CAME BACK AND THE KID WOULDN’T LET HIM IN HIS OWN HOUSE. SO SIVA WHIPPED OUT HIS SWORD AND LOPPED OFF THE GUY’S HEAD, NEVER KNOWING HIS WIFE MADE HIM.
WHEN PARVATI FOUND OUT WHAT HAPPENED, SHE GOT ALL UP IN SIVA’S GRILL AND TOLD HIM IF HE DIDN’T BRING THE GUY BACK TO LIFE, SHE WAS GONNA MAKE HIS LIFE MISERABLE. SO SIVA NEEDED A HEAD.
HIS SERVANTS WENT AND FOUND AN ELEPHANT, KILLED IT AND TOOK ITS HEAD. DON’T KNOW WHY SIVA JUST DIDN’T KILL ONE OF THE SERVANTS AND TAKE THEIR HEAD. THAT’S WHAT I WOULDA DONE.
ANYWAY, HE STICKS THIS ELEPHANT’S HEAD ON THE GUY AND BRINGS HIM BACK TO LIFE. AND THAT’S WHERE GANESH COMES FROM.
THANKS, BUDDHA. YEP, I’VE HEARD ABOUT THAT ONE. SADLY IT DOESN’T FIT WITH WHAT I’VE GOT GOING ON HERE.
Annja flicked her finger to move on to the next post.
HELLO ANNJA
PLEASED AM I TO BE MAKING YOUR ACQUAINTANCE! PERHAPS YOU COULD HELP ME. IN MY COUNTRY, BEFORE ARAB SPRING, I WAS A PRINCE. UNFORTUNATELY, I WAS DRIVEN OUT OF MY PALACE AND LEFT $2.3 MILLION EUROS IN THE BANK. NO ONE BUT ME CAN TOUCH THIS MONEY, THOUGH. I NEED ASSISTANCE IN RECOVERING THESE FUNDS AND I WOULD BE WILLING TO GIVE YOU A PERCENTAGE. COULD YOU HELP ME OUT? HUMBLY YOURS, PRINCE SEMMI.
Even though the posting was spam, it still made Annja smile.
She deleted the post and blocked the sender.
DID YOU KNOW THAT ELEPHANTS COMMUNICATE THROUGH ULTRASOUND? I DIDN’T UNTIL I STARTED LOOKING AROUND ELEPHANT STUFF. THEY KIND OF “FEEL” WORDS AT EACH OTHER. WOW! THAT’S REALLY AWESOME!
[email protected]
PRETTY AMAZING, ISN’T IT, TURTLEGIRL?
Annja kept reading but wasn’t holding out much hope. The subject matter was too broad, and maybe elephants were too interesting, as well.
The next post was from [email protected] and addressed history.
COULD THAT ELEPHANT HAVE A TIE TO CHARLEMAGNE, THE KING OF THE FRANKS? MAYBE AN HEIRLOOM PASSED DOWN THROUGH A FRENCH FAMILY? SUPPOSEDLY HARUN AR-RASHID, THE FIFTH ARAB ABBASID CALIPH, GAVE AN ELEPHANT TO CHARLEMAGNE BACK IN THE NINTH CENTURY. THAT WAS A LONG TIME AGO THOUGH.
I’LL CHECK INTO THAT AND LET YOU KNOW, ZIGGY. RIGHT NOW I’M STILL IN THE FACT-GATHERING STAGE.
The next post took a tack that Annja hadn’t thought about. It didn’t help her solve the puzzle, but it was interesting nevertheless.
I DIDN’T KNOW THIS BEFORE I STARTED LOOKING, BUT THERE ARE A LOT OF PICTURES OF NOAH AND THE FLOOD THAT HAVE ELEPHANTS IN THEM. MAYBE ARTISTS JUST LIKED TO DRAW ELEPHANTS, BUT YOU KNOW THEY WERE DEFINITELY SHOWING SOME LOVE.
[email protected]
THAT’S INTERESTING, PAINTERLAD. YOU’VE OPENED UP A WHOLE NEW LINE OF POSSIBILITIES. *SIGH* THANKS FOR THE HELP!
COULD THE ELEPHANT BE PART OF A SET? THE FIRST THING THAT CAME TO MIND WHEN I SAW THE ELEPHANT WAS THAT IT MUST BE A PART OF SOMETHING ELSE.
I KNOW YOU’VE PROBABLY HEARD OF THE COSMIC EGG THAT HATCHED AND CREATED THE SUN, BUT THE STORY GOES ON TO SAY THAT THE GOD BRAHMA TOOK THE SHELLS AND CHANTED UP AIRIVATA, THE ELEPHANT SHIVA WOULD RIDE INTO BATTLE.
[email protected]
THE POSSIBILITY OF A SET EXISTS, BUT I DON’T KNOW YET. THANKS!
Annja wanted to believe there was only the one piece, but she had to admit that it was certainly possible there were more. She’d seen Indian chess sets that featured elephants as rooks, but never this particular style of elephant.
The next letter caught her attention and pumped up her hope even though she knew it was a long shot. She would take a long shot now, though, because she didn’t have anything else.
Unless Onoprienko turned up somewhere.
HI ANNJA. I THOUGHT ABOUT NOT WRITING, BUT THAT LOOKS A LOT LIKE AN ELEPHANT I REMEMBER SEEING AT THE HOUSE OF A FRIEND OF MINE. I WAS JUST A KID THEN, AND WE’RE NOT REALLY FRIENDS ANYMORE BECAUSE STUFF HAPPENS AND YOU MOVE ON. SHE SAID THAT HER GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER OR SOMETHING CAME FROM RUSSIA. ACCORDING TO HER, HER GREAT-GREAT-GRANDFATHER STOLE IT FROM CATHERINE THE GREAT.
WE WERE LIVING IN BRIGHTON AT THE TIME, SO MAYBE THAT’S SOMETHING. MY DAD GOT A JOB IN SEATTLE A FEW YEARS AFTER THE PICTURE WAS TAKEN, AND THAT’S BEEN NINE YEARS AGO.
IT’S PROBABLY NOT THE SAME STATUE, BUT I ATTACHED A PICTURE OF US AND YOU CAN SEE THAT THE ELEPHANT IN MY PICTURE LOOKS A LOT LIKE YOURS.
GOOD LUCK!
Annja studied the attached jpeg and had to agree that the elephant in the photo looked a lot like the one she’d seen on Benyovszky’s computer. The jpeg was small and she couldn’t blow it up much, but she wanted to.
In the picture, two girls that might have been eleven or twelve stood at a desk where an old man sat. Several other presumably made Russian things—coins, paper money, pewter replicas of buildings with spires and onion domes—were spread over the table. The girls held the elephant, displaying it proudly.
Excitement stirred in Annja as it nearly always did when she started getting closer to a goal.
Annja wrote back to [email protected].
HEY RACHEL,
YOUR ELEPHANT CERTAINLY DOES RESEMBLE MINE. CAN YOU GIVE ME MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE FAMILY THAT HAD THE ELEPHANT? AND PERHAPS SEND ME A LARGER JPEG? I’D LIKE TO BLOW UP THE IMAGE.
BEST,
ANNJA
She saved the file to her hard drive and the Cloud in folders she’d created for gathering news stories, pictures and anything else she came across in her search.
Annja kept reading, but most of the next entries were repetitive. No one out there seemed to know anything more about the elephant than she did.
The results could have been discouraging. Annja chose to remain focused on what she was doing.
An hour later, Bart returned and he looked even more stressed than before. He walked over to Annja and shook his head.
“What are you doing at Joe’s desk?”
Annja chose to ignore the combative tone. She understood how frustrated Bart felt. She was frustrated, too.
“Detective Broadhurst said I could use his desk while the two of you were gone.”
“You were taken into custody. You should be in a cell with your gunslinging buddies.”
Annja made herself be calm. This wasn’t Bart talking. This was frustration and lack of sleep. “Do you want to lock me up?”
The question, asked so casually, stopped Bart in his tracks. He tried to speak, couldn’t, then ran a hand over his face and let out a sigh. Everyone in the detective bull pen was watching with avid interest.
“We’re not going to do this here,” Bart said. “Come with me.” He turned and started off.
Annja thought about ignoring the command and sitting, but she didn’t because she knew that wouldn’t get her any closer to getting out of the police station and back on the hunt.
Provided she could pick up the trail again. She packed her computer away in her backpack, slung it over her shoulder and followed Bart.
Chapter 18
“What were you thinking, Annja?” Bart stood on the other side of the room with his arms folded across his chest. He looked tired and frazzled.
“What was I thinking about going to Onoprienko�
�s?” Annja tried to concentrate on the fact that Bart was her friend and not take offense at his confrontational manner. But it was difficult.
“Yes.”
“I was thinking maybe I could help you find Benyovszky’s killer.”
Bart took in a breath and let it out. “If you had a lead, you should have come to me.”
“I didn’t know if Onoprienko murdered Benyovszky. Leonid Klykov is the one who thought that. And I still don’t know if Onoprienko killed anyone. Other than the guys I read about him killing.”
“And you just took Klykov’s word and went after Onoprienko?”
“I didn’t have anything else to follow up on. Klykov sounded convincing.”
“You asked Klykov to go with you?”
“No. Going with me was part of the deal he made with me for his help. He wouldn’t give me the address. I think he was trying to look out for me. Onoprienko just got out of prison a few weeks ago after serving a second-degree murder sentence.” Annja thought Bart should go easier on her and be more focused on the real criminal.
“I know that. I’m a cop. You should have called me as soon as you had Onoprienko’s name.”
Annja shot Bart a look. “I should have called you?”