The Russian's Greed

by Cap Daniels

  “This will only be necessary if there is trial, yes?”

  “Well . . . yeah. I mean, if there’s no trial, there won’t be any chain-of-evidence issues.”

  Anya gave a sharp nod. “This is good. I will keep diamond, and you will throw broken glass at Volkov’s hand, and maybe again you will miss and hit him in neck, just like Leo. There is no trial when defendant is dead.”

  9

  DRUGAYA ZHENSHCHINA

  (THE OTHER WOMAN)

  New York is often called The City That Never Sleeps. That may be true, but there are times when it’s more awake than others. From seven to nine a.m., Monday through Friday, the streets and sidewalks of Manhattan are nearly invisible beneath the hordes of drivers, riders, walkers, and homeless former drivers, riders, and walkers. Saturdays, however, are an entirely different story.

  After a breakfast of bagels, cream cheese, and jam in Times Square, Anya and Gwynn strolled side by side down 7th Avenue on the edge of the Garment District. Shops, restaurants, and construction scaffolding lined the street.

  Anya grabbed Gwynn’s hand and pointed with excitement toward a double-decker bus filled with wide-eyed tourists. “We must do this.”

  Gwynn pulled away, “Uh, no. I lived here for eight years. If you want a tour, I’ll be your guide, but we’re not getting on that nasty thing.”

  “But we do not have car.”

  “But we do have a car service, and they can do the driving while I play tour guide. What do you want to see?”

  Anya beamed. “Everything.”

  Gwynn gave a chuckle. “Well, that might take a while, but we can do the tourist stuff like the New York City Library, the Statue of Liberty, and Central Park all in one day.”

  “I want also to see Empire State Building.”

  “We can do that right now.” Gwynn motioned southward. “It’s right down here on Thirty-Third. Come on, I’ll show you, but I don’t want you to be disappointed. There’s no giant monkey with airplanes circling overhead.”

  Anya stared in bewilderment.

  “You know . . . King Kong.”

  “I do not know this king.”

  Gwynn palmed her forehead. “If you’re going to be an American, we’ve got so much work to do and so many movies to watch.”

  A left on 33rd led them to one of the most famous buildings in the world. They stood across the street, looking up like tourists at the massive structure.

  “Believe it or not, this was the tallest building in the world for forty years, and it was designed, planned, and built in just twenty months.”

  “How do you know this?”

  Gwynn laid an arm across Anya’s shoulders. “I told you, I was a great tour guide.”

  “Yes, you did. We can go to the top, yes?”

  Gwynn checked her watch. “We can go to the eighty-sixth floor to the observatory if you want, but we have to buy a ticket. What time did you plan to call Volkov?”

  Anya took Gwynn’s arm and dragged her across the street to the chorus of protesting horns. “We have plenty of time for him. We will buy tickets and see the top first.”

  Anya peeled off two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills to cover the cost of riding the elevator to the observation deck eighty-six floors above Midtown Manhattan, and she thought the view was worth every penny. Anya raised her head from a pair of coin-operated binoculars and pointed south in wide-eyed wonder. “There is Liberty Statue!”

  Gwynn followed her finger to the iconic gift from the French, and although the statue was barely visible with the naked eye, she said, “It sure is. That’s the Statue of Liberty.”

  Anya pinned her face back against the shiny, coin-eating binoculars and froze. A minute later, she hurriedly shoved her hand into her pocket, then turned to Gwynn. “You have coins?”

  “Yeah, sure. Here you go.”

  Anya, seemingly undeterred by the string of tourists waiting for their turn, fed the machine until it consumed the contents of their pockets. When the scene went dark for the last time, she stepped down from the perch and turned to Gwynn. “A man once promised to show me the statue and Disney World and White House, but this did not come true until now.”

  “Chase, again?”

  “Yes, he made this promise to me in Honeymoon Harbor near Leo’s house in Bimini.”

  “You’ve got to get that man out of your head, you know.”

  “This is not possible. He is the kindest man I have ever known, and he is brilliant leader and loyal friend to his men.”

  A pair of tourists pushed their way past and stepped up to the binoculars.

  Gwynn led Anya away from them and found a quieter corner. “I don’t mean you have to forget about Chase, but you get this look on your face when you talk about him. It’s like you’re a teenaged girl swooning over the star quarterback.”

  “No, this is wrong. He was catcher, not quarterback. He took me to see baseball game at University of Georgia, and this is where I had my first chili dog. It is a wonderful story. I must tell you.”

  Gwynn raised a hand. “Anya. Stop it. How old are you?”

  “I am thirty-two, and you are twenty-eight.”

  “Yes, but you’re acting like . . .” Gwynn hesitated, afraid that what was about to come out of her mouth would be more hurtful than beneficial.

  “When was first time you kissed a boy?” Anya asked.

  Gwynn blushed. “I was twelve or thirteen, but what does that have to do—”

  “The boy you kissed . . . Was he thirty-five-year-old KGB instructor?”

  “What? No, his name was Billy Anderson. He was a math geek, and I needed help with pre-algebra.”

  “My first kiss with boy was lesson about how to kiss correctly to make Americans tell me everything they know. When was your first time doing sex with a boy?”

  Gwynn checked over her shoulder in fear of someone overhearing their conversation. “That’s not really something I want to talk about up here with all of these—”

  Anya interrupted again. “He was maybe fifty years old, or maybe older, and smelled of vodka and cigarettes. I was gift to him from Communist party because he was loyal to Mother Russia. It was sweaty, and rough, and horrible.”

  Gwynn looked away as the sickening picture came into focus in her mind’s eye.

  Anya continued. “The first time I kissed Chase was in ocean on island of Saint Thomas, and the first time he made love with me was first time I learned men could be kind and caring for me. This is a time I will never forget, so please do not say to me I must take him from inside my head. I will not do this.”

  Gwynn swallowed hard. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Yes, you did,” Anya said. “You know everything of my past. Agent White used the things your government knows of my past while he was interrogating me.”

  Gwynn took the Russian’s hand. “Anya, I’m really sorry. We didn’t know the things you just told me. There’s no way we could know details like that, and I didn’t mean to imply that you should forget the good memories you have with Chase. I was only trying to say . . . I’m just, sorry. I don’t know what I was trying to say. Come on. Let’s go see that Liberty Statue of yours.”

  They left the observation deck, but not before Anya had one more long look around at the Big Apple spreading out in every direction beneath them.

  As the elevator doors opened to the lobby, Anya said, “I think we should see statue tomorrow. It is now time to work.”

  “Whatever you say, but if you think my Empire State Building trivia was good, just wait ’til you hear my Statue of Liberty spiel.”

  Anya pulled her phone from a pocket and dialed Viktor Volkov’s number from memory. Gwynn listened as her partner spoke in her soft, flowing native tongue. She wondered why Russian sounded so harsh on the tongues of men, but when spoken by a woman, it was more beautiful than the language of the men and women who built the statue Anya so longed to see.

  Anya pocketed the phone. “He will pick us up in front of building
in fifteen minutes.”

  Volkov was early, and he held the door for the two beautiful women who were sworn to destroy him, although that thought was still days from entering his mind. To him, Anya was a woman scorned by a man who tried to pawn off a fugazi as the real thing, and a woman like her clearly deserved nothing but the finest of everything New York, and the world, had to offer.

  Viktor shot his cuffs and checked his watch. The Patek Philippe of the night before had been replaced by a Cartier of significantly lower value, but a far more chic design. “Good morning, just barely, ladies. I hope your day has been good so far. I promise your afternoon will be unforgettable.”

  Anya laced an arm through his and raised herself to gently kiss his cheek. “Our morning was great, and I got to see Statue of Liberty from the Empire State Building.”

  “The view from way up there couldn’t possibly be as beautiful as the two of you. Please make yourselves comfortable, and I will show you the most valuable city block in the world.”

  Anya followed Gwynn into the back seat, and both were surprised to see another woman sitting with legs crossed on the rearward-facing seat. She had a flute of champagne in one hand and a jeweled clutch in the other.

  Viktor nestled into the back of the limousine beside the woman, and introductions were made. “Anya, Gwynn, this is Veronique. She works with me in getting my stones placed in the finest shops. I thought perhaps you would enjoy meeting her.”

  Anya assessed the woman from foot to head, just as she’d done with Volkov. The glamour of the red soles of the thousand-dollar Louboutin heels didn’t stop at her ankle. The skin of her lower legs was flawless and disappeared beneath the hem of a designer dress that must have cost even more than the shoes. She wore her hair and makeup like the crown of a princess atop the elegance of her body.

  Gwynn suddenly felt like Cinderella’s stepsister and shrank into the plush leather seat.

  Anya, unthreatened by the woman, leaned forward and offered her hand. “Ravi de vous rencontrer, Véronique. Je suis Anya.”

  Apparently unimpressed with Anya’s French, the woman squeezed her offered hand and responded in flawless Russian. “Kak priyatno poznakomit'sya, Anya.”

  Viktor closed the door, and the unseen driver pulled into traffic. Minutes later, the limo came to a stop at the corner of 47th Street and 5th Avenue. Viktor’s driver held open the door, and the four stepped from the car and onto the sidewalk. Gwynn stepped into the shadows near the buildings, as if trying to hide.

  Anya noticed and turned to Veronique. “Don’t you hate women like my friend Gwynn who are beautiful the moment they wake every morning? The rest of us must spend hours to look so nice. I am certain you know exactly what I mean.”

  Gwynn smiled, stepped from the shadows, and forgot all about the glamorous lady from France, regardless of her countrymen’s generosity with the statue.

  10

  SVOP

  (THE SWAP)

  Veronique slid her manicured hand inside Viktor Volkov’s left arm as the foursome made their way west on 47th Street. To Anya, the scene was nothing short of chaos, where cars, taxis, and delivery trucks flowed continually down the one-way street. But the constant noise rising from the single city block came from the throngs of hawkers, speaking in dozens of languages, pleading with passersby to step inside and buy one of the world’s most precious lumps of carbon.

  Anya’s eyes traced the movements of the men of faith. “There is synagogue here?”

  Volkov laughed. “Yes, over two thousand of them, but not synagogues to the God of the Torah. Another god is worshipped here. His name is Mammon. Do you know this god?”

  Anya shook her head. “No, but how can he have two thousand synagogues here inside city and I do not know of him?”

  Volkov led them into an alcove away from the crowded sidewalk. “Mammon is the demon of greed. His power is so strong that he can lure innocent men to him and consume them with endless desire for more wealth. This is the god of Forty-Seventh Street.”

  Anya laid her palm against his chest. “You are here. Are you one of these innocent men lured by Mammon?”

  Volkov looked away and then back. “Sometimes, I am, but not always . . . and certainly not today. Today is about you and finding a beautiful setting for a beautiful diamond for the finger of a beautiful woman.”

  They pressed by the hawkers and into a small shop with a U-shaped glass counter filled with hundreds of pieces of magnificent jewelry.

  A young, used-car-salesman-type reached across the counter. “Viktor, my friend. How are you? Where have you been? It’s been too long since you’ve been in my shop.”

  “I have been out of town, my friend, but I’m here now, and we must find the perfect setting for my friend’s diamond.”

  The car salesman tilted his head. “Out of town? Where?”

  Volkov leaned toward the man. “I do not ask where you go when you leave your shop. I expect the same courtesy, my Hebrew friend.”

  The man behind the counter turned to face Anya. “I’m Levi. Tell me about your diamond.”

  “Is beautiful diamond of color E, IF clarity, cut round, and two carats.”

  Levi shot a look at Volkov and back at Anya. “That’s quite a stone. Would you happen to have it with you?”

  Anya reached into her pocket. “Of course. You could not put in setting if I do not have with me.”

  “I love your accent,” Levi said. “You must also be from Russia like my friend Viktor.”

  “I was born in Russia, yes, but I am now American. You would like to see diamond, yes?”

  Levi laid a black, cloth-covered board on the glass in front of Anya, and she unwrapped the diamond from its brivke, the folded white paper containing her stone. Levi pulled a pair of long locking tweezers from his pocket and rolled the stone across the cloth until it was facedown. He slid the tweezers around the diamond, squeezed, and locked the stone into the tool. Raising it to his eye, he peered through a loupe, twisting and turning the diamond as he examined every facet. Still squinting into the magnifier, he asked, “Who told you it was IF? I can’t find a flaw, and I have perfect eyes.”

  Anya looked up at Volkov, who said, “I agree, but it was graded by the GIA. What can you do?”

  Levi continued searching. “I think the gemologist was having a bad day. I’d definitely grade it as flawless. I’d like to have a basketful of stones just like this one.”

  Anya was anxious to move the process along. “Show to me settings.”

  Levi lifted a tray from the case and placed it on the glass. Every setting in the tray was breathtaking. He pulled a ring from the back row and dropped the diamond into the center. Two rows of small diamonds surrounded the much larger stone, and Gwynn gasped.

  Anya glanced over her shoulder at her partner and then back at Levi. “I want something simple and elegant, like my friend.”

  Gwynn grinned, and Levi looked at Volkov.

  The Russian showed the Israeli his palms. “It’s her diamond. Mount it in the setting she wants.”

  Levi lifted the stone from the elegant setting. “Are you sure you want something simple? This stone is so beautiful, I think it deserves some glitter around it.”

  Anya brushed her hand against Gwynn’s. “My diamond is beautiful without glitter. I am sure I want white gold solitaire setting.”

  Levi watched the dollar signs blow away. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” He produced an oversized keyring with sized rings hanging from a metal loop. “Which finger?”

  Anya peered down at her hands and finally stuck out the index finger of her left hand. “This one.”

  Levi slid sizing rings across Anya’s finger until he found the perfect size. He then stepped through a curtain into the back of the shop and returned with two rings. They were identical except for the number of prongs. “If you plan to wear the ring every day, I suggest the six-prong setting, but if it will only be worn on special occasions, four prongs will show off more of the stone.”

>   “Yes, of course I will wear every day. Is my first diamond, and I wish to see it on my finger every time I look down.”

  “Six-prong it is,” he said as he lifted the stone and headed for the back room.”

  Viktor said, “Leave open the curtain so she can see how you set the stone, or better yet, let her come back there with you.”

  “I’ll leave the curtain open so you can make sure I don’t switch the stone, but she can’t come back.”

  “Good enough,” Volkov said.

  Anya asked, “What does this mean, switching stone?”

  “There are some less-than-reputable jewelers who will trade out a similar but less valuable stone when they have your diamond behind closed doors, but my friend Levi knows I never forget the details of a stone, so he would never try doing this to me.”

  With the curtain pinned back, giving an unobstructed view of the workshop, Levi clamped the setting in a small vise, slid on his jeweler’s glasses, and gently placed the diamond in the setting. Working with the skill of a master craftsman, he drew the prongs into place, securing the stone in the setting. When he finished, he gripped the diamond and tugged at it, making sure it was firmly seated in place.

  He buffed the ring, restoring its brilliance, and held it out toward Anya. She extended her index finger, and Levi slid the ring across the knuckle. Anya stared down at the gorgeous ring and momentarily lost herself in amazement.

  When she held it up for Gwynn to see, she was disappointed but intrigued that her partner seemed to have no interest in the ring. Instead, she was intently watching Veronique inspect a collection of loose diamonds on the other side of the shop.

  Anya turned back to Levi. “How much?”

  He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “Two seventy-five.”

  Viktor slid a pair of one-hundred-dollar bills across the counter, and Levi stared down at the bills. “It’s two seventy-five.”

  Volkov huffed. “Today, it is two hundred, and that means you doubled on your investment. You forget that I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know exactly how much you paid for that setting, and two hundred is generous.”