The Missing Spy

by J A Heaton

  “Perhaps we can leave here for someplace more comfortable,” Patrick said in Russian to the widow. “I knew your husband when he was in Moscow, but then we lost touch. I want to know about the new life he found here.” Patrick explained to Daniel what he was saying in Russian.

  Zuhro nodded, and the group of them exited the morgue.

  Daniel found the morning sun to be a welcome relief from the cool building full of death.

  “How did you know my husband?” she asked as they made their way to their parked cars. “Not many had American friends.”

  “I was a journalist,” Patrick explained. “We crossed paths a few times, played chess, and then he stopped showing up.”

  “He played chess?” she asked. “He never told me.”

  “Maybe he only ever played with me,” Patrick said, and it appeared that he was trying to add some levity to the situation. When Patrick translated it for Daniel, it struck him as odd, and he had to pause and think about it. He also noticed the bags under Patrick’s eyes.

  What had he and Billy done after leaving the restaurant last night? Daniel wondered.

  Rex was waiting in the car. Jahongir was about to leave in his police car with two of his men, and Daniel told Zuhro she could ride with him to the US Embassy where she could talk more with Patrick.

  She nodded with understanding, but then raised her hand to her mouth. It stifled her scream.

  Daniel turned to look, and the first thing he saw was blood.

  Patrick fell to the ground, gasping. Blood gushed from his neck despite his hand grasping at it.

  Daniel’s first instinct was to stop Patrick’s bleeding, but when Daniel reached his body on the ground, he knew it was too late.

  Rex and Jahongir’s two men had already started the footrace after the killer.

  Daniel followed.

  They entered a neighborhood with narrow streets that wound in every direction. Many were not wide enough for a car. Daniel knew they would be lucky to be able to keep track of the killer. After a few turns, he lost sight of the chase. Daniel slowed to a jog and looked around, realizing he was disoriented and lost.

  Not exactly a pro move, Daniel chided himself.

  About a minute later, Daniel encountered Rex in the maze of small streets. They exchanged exasperated looks.

  “Surely he couldn’t have stopped in this small neighborhood to hide,” Rex said. “He would be trapped.”

  Daniel took a few deep breaths and thought. A major road was somewhere on the other side of the neighborhood.

  “He’s probably trying to get to the larger road beyond this neighborhood,” Daniel said.

  Resuming the chase, they wound their way along the path, always in the general direction of the main road that lay beyond.

  Bursting out of the edge of the neighborhood, they came upon a four-lane street with cars clipping by at about thirty-five miles per hour. With multiple lanes, it didn’t seem likely the killer would have crossed on foot.

  Did he have an escape vehicle? Daniel wondered frantically. But there was no place to park on the shoulder and timing a pickup would have been impossible.

  “There!” Rex yelled, pointing to a pedestrian bridge up the road that had chain-link fence reaching up on either side for safety. Several people were crossing it, including a young man who was hurrying, but not running.

  Daniel and Rex ran towards the bridge, yelling after the man to stop. The passersby, well trained in ignoring emergencies, did nothing to stop the man who soon began running.

  To Daniel’s relief, Jahongir’s two policemen appeared on the far end of the pedestrian bridge. Both had police batons ready to use. The sight of the policemen made the killer stop, but he turned to see Daniel and Rex coming towards him. The killer was younger than Daniel, fit, but Daniel couldn’t tell where he was from or how well he was trained for such a situation.

  “He still has the knife,” Daniel said to Rex.

  “I specialize in dealing with armed combatants,” Rex said. “I’m always armed.” Rex cracked his knuckles. “Stay out of my way, and I’ll take care of him.”

  “We need him alive,” Daniel reminded Rex.

  The killer went towards Rex and Daniel, but he soon saw the look on Rex’s face. Without another option, he began scaling the fence on the side of the pedestrian bridge. Daniel looked down and didn’t think anybody could survive the drop, especially if they were struck by an oncoming vehicle.

  Rex scrambled up after the man. Daniel watched from below. Rex grabbed the attacker’s foot just as he crested the fence. Rex let go of the fence, releasing all his weight onto the man’s leg.

  The man struggled to support his weight plus Rex’s while clinging to the fence with his fingertips.

  He would soon fall onto the pathway.

  Instead, a gunshot cracked, the sound coming from the pistol of a policeman who had just arrived and was standing next to Daniel.

  The first shot in the man’s back made him release his grip and fall. The second shot made sure he was dead.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Daniel yelled, first in English, and then in Uzbek.

  The policeman returned an angry look as if to tell Daniel he wasn’t to be questioned about how to do his job.

  Daniel cursed, not bothering to argue with the policeman. After he rolled the man over, he saw that he was already dead. Daniel guessed he was a teenager. Probably a desperate kid trained to do somebody else’s dirty work. He would never reveal who had sent him to kill Patrick, or why, if he knew.

  Daniel and Rex walked away in disgust. Daniel wiped Patrick’s drying blood off his hands and onto his pants.

  “Police work that bad can’t be an accident,” Rex said to Daniel.

  “It only could have been worse if he had shot us,” Daniel said. “I can’t wait until we get to the bottom of this.”

  “At least we know Patrick, most likely, was not the Wolf,” Rex said with sarcastic optimism.

  “That leaves Billy and Fitzpatrick. But if the Wolf had Dmitri killed to protect his identity, why would he have Patrick eliminated?”

  “Perhaps Patrick had a clue he didn’t yet realize was significant,” Rex speculated.

  “I hope we find something in Dmitri’s apartment later today,” Daniel said as he felt for the key in his pocket.

  It took Daniel and Rex about two hours to reach the ancient city of Samarkand in their black Land Cruiser before Daniel realized something.

  “I don’t feel so good about driving around in this vehicle,” Daniel said. “Ambassador Fitzpatrick seemed a little too prickly about allowing us to take an embassy vehicle without telling him where we were going.”

  “We are an easy target to follow,” Rex agreed.

  “Dmitri was killed in short order, and then Patrick. It seems to me that the Wolf doesn’t mind killing. He apparently didn’t care that Patrick was with the US Embassy.”

  “But this Land Cruiser can get us away from anybody, and it has bulletproofed glass along with reinforced sidings,” Rex countered. “And the heated seats are nice.”

  “I say we go into Shahrisabz a bit more discretely,” Daniel said, remembering how much attention their vehicle attracted when they visited Zuhro the previous day. “Just to be safe.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Rex said.

  On the outskirts of Samarkand, Daniel pulled over and talked with some of the shopkeepers. He got back in the car after a short discussion and said, “They told me where we can get a less conspicuous vehicle.”

  Another ten minutes later, and they arrived at the taxi bazaar that fed taxis to Shahrisabz, Kharshi, Tashkent, and Bukhoro. As always, it looked to Daniel like a mass of disorganized, parked vehicles with people milling about. He was amazed that people ever managed to drive their car away.

  After parking several meters away from the fray, Daniel asked around for the taxis to Bukhoro.

  “Aren’t we going to Shahrisabz?” Rex asked.

  “We are,” Daniel
said. “But I don’t want anybody to see us asking around about Shahrisabz.”

  “Got it.”

  Daniel brushed off several pushy taxi drivers. Daniel even had to pull his arm back as some of them grabbed at his hand to drag him towards their vehicle.

  It took Daniel about fifteen minutes to find the car that he wanted.

  “A 1997 Nexia,” Daniel finally explained to Rex. “That year was a good year. This car should serve us well.”

  Rex gave him a raised eyebrow.

  “It even has power steering,” Daniel said. Rex wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking.

  “Could I rent your car for a few days?” Daniel asked the driver.

  “Where do you want me to take you?” the driver responded.

  “You don’t have to come,” Daniel said. “I can do all of the driving. You just sit at home, drink tea, and enjoy the money that I’m going to pay you. Then, when I bring your car back after a few days, you will have made four times as much money than driving taxis, except that you got to sit at home, drink tea, and play with your grandchildren.”

  The man looked back and forth at Daniel and Rex. Daniel couldn’t blame him. The deal surely seemed too good to be true.

  “I just want your car for about four days,” Daniel said. “You have a good car, and I can give you four hundred dollars right now. When I bring your car back, I will give you another five hundred.” Daniel pulled out a wad of hundred-dollar bills to show he was serious.

  “What’s wrong with your car?” the man asked. “Why would you want my car?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you five hundred now,” Daniel said, avoiding the question, “and I will give you another five hundred when I return your car. And, you can have the keys to my car while I’m gone. If I never bring your car back, then you can keep this one.”

  “Six hundred now,” the taxi driver said, “and—”

  “Six hundred more when I get back,” Daniel said, finishing his sentence. “Agreed.”

  Minutes later, Daniel watched as the man pulled the black Land Cruiser into a detached garage in a nearby neighborhood, away from snooping eyes. The man didn’t flinch while Rex moved gun cases and put them in the Nexia. Daniel was counting out the six hundred dollar bills as Rex did so. They said farewell and shook hands.

  Daniel and Rex were soon heading towards the mountains in the south, and then on to the city of Shahrisabz over the mountain pass.

  “Somehow, I don’t think Fitzpatrick would approve of how we are ignoring protocol by temporarily trading an embassy vehicle for this hunk of junk,” Rex said with a grin. “And do you really think we’ll find a clue about the Wolf’s identity in Dmitri’s apartment?”

  “He was a pro,” Daniel said. “He wouldn’t allow such information to go with him to the grave.”

  “But he was a pro because he never left clues behind,” Rex countered. “Oh well, at least I can enjoy the non-heated seats before we go looking for clues that may not exist.”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Rex warned as Daniel jiggled the key into the lock of Dmitri’s apartment.

  “Well, I’ve got a good feeling,” Daniel answered as he leaned into the door, trying to find the sweet spot at which it would grant access.

  “It’s just kind of creepy to search a dead guy’s apartment,” Rex whispered. The door creaked open. “And without his widow’s knowledge or permission.”

  Daniel stepped into the entryway of the apartment and looked out onto the street. The apartment building was only two stories, with four units on each floor. Dmitri’s apartment was on the first floor, probably because of his position within the KGB. Daniel noticed that he had a water faucet in the yard, not something everybody had. There was no indoor plumbing other than a toilet and bathtub with a showerhead. The street was dark. The neighbors were at least pretending to not notice their presence.

  Neighbors learn to mind their own business when a KGB man is around, Daniel thought to himself.

  Daniel and Rex clicked on their flashlights and scanned the apartment’s interior. As expected, the apartment was sparsely appointed. In the entryway was a tiny kitchen on the left, and on the right was a raised sitting area with the traditional low table. Beyond that, a hallway led to a sitting room, bathroom, and two bedrooms. After they glanced through each of the rooms, they began searching. Daniel searched through the extra bedroom, which seemed more like a combination of an office and a library. Rex went to the main bedroom.

  Rex commented, “There isn’t much here to search.”

  “That’s normal,” Daniel said. Daniel searched through the desk drawers and leafed through several of the old Russian books that were meaningless to him. He did notice an old copy of The Communist Manifesto that made him chuckle for a moment. He checked behind the two pictures hanging on the wall. Daniel paused to gaze at the two photos, and he guessed they must’ve been Dmitri’s parents.

  Were those all that Dmitri brought from Moscow to Shahrisabz? Daniel wondered.

  Daniel found a photo album, but it began with him and Zuhro. She didn’t look much different. As was customary, neither of them was smiling in the pictures.

  Except for one.

  In that picture, Dmitri held a baby, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. Daniel wondered what had happened to Dmitri’s baby. Daniel made a mental note to ask Zuhro.

  “I feel like a real a-hole going through the widow’s underwear,” Rex said from the other room. “Good thing nobody is searching through my room right now.”

  “Maybe Jenny is,” Daniel joked.

  “Not funny,” Rex warned.

  “I don’t like doing this to a widow, either,” Daniel said, “but I’ve got to think Dmitri left something that would lead us to the Wolf.”

  Daniel and Rex moved to the front of the house, and Daniel started going through the kitchen while Rex searched the seating area.

  “Looks like a bunch of storage to me,” Rex said as he lifted the door that exposed the area below the raised seating area. “They don’t pay me enough for this.” With a sigh, Rex got down on all fours and began pulling out old kitchen items. He then crawled under the seating area with his flashlight.

  Daniel scoured the two kitchen cupboards that held the teacups, plates, and a few other dishes. There were no nooks or crannies in the kitchen to hide anything. Daniel halfheartedly pulled the refrigerator away from the wall to inspect it.

  “Oh crap!” Rex yelled from under the seating area.

  “What is it?” Daniel knelt at the entryway and shined his flashlight in. He jumped back as a rat shuffled by. It raced across the floor and disappeared under the kitchen cabinet.

  Rex hurried out from the storage area and nervously tried to brush off the dust and dirt that clung to him.

  “There is definitely no secret document down there,” Rex said panting. “If there was, that rat ate it.”

  “Nothing in the kitchen either,” Daniel said. They quickly searched the sitting room next, but it only contained a small television, two chairs, and a rug.

  “We have to be more thorough,” Rex concluded.

  Daniel’s shoulders sagged. Destroying Zuhro’s furniture, pulling up floorboards, and busting into walls didn’t sit well with him.

  “I’m starting to think that if Dmitri left a clue behind, he wouldn’t have left it in his home,” Daniel said.

  “I don’t want to destroy what few belongings the widow has, either,” Rex said, “but we’ve got to thoroughly search this place.”

  “Wait a minute,” Daniel said, holding up a finger. He went back to the bedroom and picked up a book and declared to Rex, “The Communist Manifesto.”

  “Didn’t everybody have to own that?”

  “Maybe, but this copy is well read. Look how the spine is bent, and the pages have been turned. A lot.”

  “Surely you don’t think he wrote the Wolf’s name in the book, do you?” Rex asked.

  Daniel didn’t answer, but instead pulled out a folded
piece of paper. He unfolded it and told Rex, “Cyrillic cursive, probably in Russian. Doubly incomprehensible to me.”

  “But he couldn’t risk anybody finding that,” Rex protested.

  “Unless it was in code, and this book was the key to the code,” Daniel said. “That would explain why it’s so worn, and yet I’m sure Dmitri didn’t read and reread it for pleasure.”

  “Even if you’re right and that is a coded message, and that book is the key…” Rex began, but he didn’t finish.

  They both knew.

  Patrick Riley was the one man who would know how to use The Communist Manifesto as a key to decode the message. But he was dead.

  “I’m not giving up,” Daniel said, as much to Rex as to himself. Daniel pulled out the photo album. With a razor blade, Daniel began disassembling every page and peeling off stamps from postcards. He searched for microdots that could contain pages of tiny text in a dot the size of a pinhead.

  “If anybody did that to my photo albums,” Rex said, “I would kill them.”

  Daniel held the photos inches from his face and scanned it with the flashlight, desperately hunting for a microdot. After frantically peering at photo after photo, Rex finally said what Daniel knew.

  “There’s nothing to find there,” Rex said. “Part of being a good agent is knowing when to move on. If we’re not going to bust this place apart, then it’s time to go.”

  Daniel took a few deep breaths and finally agreed with Rex and said, “Maybe we should find Zuhro’s twin sister and talk with her.”

  Rex didn’t have time to agree because the front door of the apartment crashed open as an imposing and massive dog charged in and barked furiously at the intruders.

  Daniel saw that the dog was on a leash, but he wasn’t sure the owner would be able to restrain it.

  9

  The man holding his dog back on a leash yelled, “Who are you?” and waved a metal pipe in the air with his other hand.

  Daniel and Rex moved away from each other, making it impossible for the dog to attack both of them.

  The man swung the metal pipe at Daniel. Daniel dodged just in time to partially block the blow with his forearm.