by Eddy Will
Anna ran downhill heading for the dense forest below. She jumped over rocks, taking long strides, using the downhill momentum. She took note of the location of the distant waterfall, hoping to keep it as a landmark and beacon. She would not outrun the killing party. It was important to evade and stay ahead. The forest at the bottom of the hill was dense. The needle trees were short and stocky and navigating through the underbrush a slow process. A hundred feet into the forest of evergreens the visibility dropped as the growth grew denser. Anna found a small clearing in the woods and stopped to rest. The long runs began to take their toll on her strength. She had entered the needle tree forest some time ago and figured to be about a third to the waterfall on the other side of the valley. Her stomach growled and she felt the pangs of hunger. Anna collected dry leaves, small twigs for kindling and larger branches and piled them into a neat tight stack.
She pulled the matches from the satchel and cupped her hands into a protective wall against the breeze and lit a match. The flame died before the leaves caught fire. It took several attempts and the careful adjustment of her cupped hands to find the right position. A small flame jumped up from the leaves at the bottom of the stack and eagerly snapped at the tiny twigs above. Anna blew on the growing flame, fanning its ascent and mothered the fire until it had grown enough to maintain itself. Soon a decent fire burnt in the clearing. Anna warmed her hands, enjoying the warmth and comfort before she pierced the first strip of rabbit meat with the tip of her knife and held it over the fire. Turning the knife frequently the strip cooked quickly, changing from dark red to golden brown. She devoured the first piece, the heat burning her tongue, but she did not care. Anna cooked all the meat, and as she pulled the last cooked strip from the knife tip, the first drops fell from the black clouds above.
“Great,” Anna mumbled to the trees and quickly packed up her gear. She moved under the wide limbs of a fir tree and sat, leaning against the trunk. She chewed on a strip of meat and watched her small fire surrender to the increasing assault from the sky.
Soon the rain fell hard and steady in straight windless sheets.
Chapter 43
London, England, August 4, 2012, 10:22 AM
Styx explored the hotel suite at Claridges in wonder. She had entered a world foreign and distant from her own. Running her fingers over expensive fabric on chairs and couches, it was hard to imagine for the young punk rocker that people actually lived in these rooms in exchange for a small fortune. Jack watched the redhead discover the suite, which he had rented, courtesy of the Todd Ashley Memorial Fund. Styx gently sat on the large plush bed. She had recovered from the shock of the brutal attack. And Jack felt it was time to ask questions.
“Is there another name than punkgirl999 that I can call you,” he said, carefully studying the woman.
“Styx, it’s Styx, like the river, or the Rock band if you like, but it’s the river, really,” she said.
“Really?” Jack said.
“Really, like the river which you cross to get to the Underworld,” she said, “as in where the dead people live.”
“I had better not cross you then,” Jack said. “What parents name their child Styx?”
“They didn’t, I gave it to myself,” she said and climbed off the bed.
“Well, there you go then. Alright then, Styx,” he said, pronouncing her name slowly and deliberately, “what exactly happened back there and please don’t tell me you have no clue,” Jack said, searching the woman’s face for the lie, for the evasive gesture.
“All I know is that someone followed me yesterday, when I went for a walk in the park. I spotted him and lost him in the crowd. Someone has been watching my home and when I left to go out last night, I had a different person follow me. I know, because I changed directions and backtracked and the woman went wherever I went. But when I left this morning to meet you at the Tea House, I was sure that I was not followed, I swear I looked for the tail. I had no problem identifying them yesterday, but this morning I saw no one, nothing out of the ordinary. I was shocked when you said I had been followed,” Styx said, her voice steady and even. “And, frankly, the shit only hit the fan when you showed up, so I am wondering if whatever happened to me earlier was because of you and not me,” she said, turning the table, looking Jack straight in the eye, searching for the lie herself.
Jack smiled and nodded. “Right,” he said, “but you were the only person in the world other than Tarpov who knew that I was coming to London. And Tarpov and I have been stuck on a plane until an hour or so before you met me. And, to be honest, why would I set you up, only to risk life and limb to pull you out of the claws of kidnappers? That makes no sense. No, the explanation is in your life, not mine, and the fact that you had been tailed for the last twenty-four hours tells me that someone has decided you could no longer be trusted or felt that you have become a threat. Who is the person in your life who might fit that description? Don’t think, just answer,” Jack said, his eyes glued on her, pushing the issue.
“Maria,” she said without missing a beat. It had been her suspicion all along, but it felt awkward to say it out loud, especially to a stranger.
“Maria Koshkova?” Jack said, confirming they were talking about the same person.
“Yes,” Styx said, suddenly uneasy.
“What’s bothering you?” Jack said, picking up on the subtle shift in energy.
“It’s complicated,” Styx said, searching for a way to avoid the answer. “The truth is that Maria is more than a friend, if you know what I mean,” she said.
“I appreciate that,” Jack said. He needed to get to the point. The kidnapping attempt had changed the dynamics. Maria Koshkova would be alarmed once she learned of the botched mission. At worst she might look to cover her tracks and possibly disappear, but Maria was the only link to finding Anna. Jack could not afford to indulge the young woman. “But we have to move quickly, if we want to learn what Maria Koshkova is doing and where she has taken my wife. No offense, Styx, but this is far bigger than a lover’s tiff,” he said.
“You don’t have to patronize me,” Styx snapped, “I am well aware that I have been dating a monster and I don’t need you to rub it in, or belittle me for it. I know I suck,” she said, her voice growing louder.
“You are right, of course,” Jack said, immediately regretting his approach. “But here is the situation: Maria Koshkova has clearly been involved in the disappearance of my wife, the attempted murder of me, and the successful murder of an attorney in Beverly Hills. Furthermore, she appears to be a suspect in what happened this morning. She clearly means you ill, Styx. I am sorry if that hurts your feelings but it’s a fact. You are in grave danger because of your relationship with that woman. And, deep down, you know that, and it frightens you, which is why you reached out to me halfway around the world.”
Styx stared at Jack. He was right, of course, and she felt foolish for being less cooperative. “I know, I know,” she said. “Can I smoke?” she said, pulling her purse closer.
“I don’t care, be my guest,” Jack said. He found an ashtray displaying the hotel’s elegant logo and placed it on the glass coffee table. Styx lit up and exhaled a long stream of thin smoke.
“Alright, I am in. What do we do?” she finally said, having appeased the demons in her mind.
At that moment Sergey Tarpov barged through the door of the suite, his rough appearance in stark contrast to the elegantly furnished rooms. He carried a tray with three large paper cups of coffee and a bag containing sandwiches.
“Lunch and coffee,” he growled and placed the goods on the coffee table.
The trio tore into the food and discussed a plan of attack to get to Maria Koshkova and to the information locked in her mind.
Chapter 44
London, England, August 4, 2012, 11:42 AM
Maria Koshkova was torn between panic and rage. The panic had caused her to lock up the gallery and seek safety in the throngs of the early lunch crowd rushing along the busy sidewalk
s, her mind racing for explanations as to what had happened. It was supposed to be an easy grab, far easier than most Koshkova had set up in the past. She had had the advantage of familiarity with the target. She had known Styx’s routine, her temperament, her schedule and Koshkova had been operating on her own turf. Operationally, it should have been a walk in park, but something had gone wrong. Someone else had been watching Styx and that someone had been determined to interrupt the abduction. Not only had the mission failed, but Koshkova’s crew had been obliterated. The driver had been killed by a bus and the other two had landed in the custody of the London Metropolitan Police. A nightmare scenario was about to unravel. Either of the men arrested could lead the police to her. Her only hope was that the men had been paid handsomely enough, now and in the past, and would be hard pressed to give up the hand that fed them. Their crimes were minor and it would take time to untangle the actual sequence of events. But who had interfered with the abduction? Who had had their eye on Styx and was determined to get to her first?
There was only one name that came to mind, one person in her world who had the resources and the motive to snatch her lover from under her nose: Diana.
But why? Was Diana sending a message? Had something else gone wrong that Maria Koshkova did not know? Did Diana want to make sure Maria stayed on track and on task? Was the kidnapping of Styx a precursor for worse things to come? Maria did not see the advantage for Diana, but there had to be an angle, for Maria could not think of another person who would gain from the kidnapping. Unless, of course, there were things in Styx’s life that Maria did not know about. Unless the young punk rocker had her own troubles, nothing to do with Maria? It seemed improbable.
Maria Koshkova trusted her intuition and the first person who came to mind was Diana, so Diana it was, she decided.
And this was where the rage came into play. Diana had crossed the line, had threatened Maria by taking Styx, forcing her to her will.
Maria crossed Leicester Square at a steady pace, just fast enough to keep up with the crowd. Her mind raced, searching for a plan, for a way out. It was not about the safety of the punk girl, but what she might divulge. Maria had sensed that Styx’s behavior had changed imperceptibly, that maybe she had learned something she should not have.
Maria reached the Underground station in the center of the square and slowed her pace. She glanced over her shoulder as she tossed back her hair. She locked eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black coat. The man indiscernibly shook his head and turned his glance to the ground. She was safe. Her body guard had been tailing her at a distance protecting her back and scanning the busy crowd for a tail. Maria breathed a sigh of relief.
Chapter 45
London, England, August 4, 2012, 12:56 PM
Tarpov checked the small clock on the nightstand of the cheap hotel room near Victoria Station. Jack had picked the aging, dilapidated hotel carefully. The Railway Hotel had a small lobby and an unsecured rear entrance. It was easy to monitor foot traffic entering and leaving the building. And it was the kind of hotel that Styx would choose to get off the street. Tarpov re-positioned the clock until he was satisfied.
“We can see the whole room now,” he said. He had rearranged the sparse furniture in the room to accommodate the tiny high definition video camera built into the face of the digital clock. “I am ready if you are,” he said, turning to Jack by the door.
Jack glanced at Styx who had been sitting motionlessly on the narrow bed, silently observing the Russian’s preparations.
“How about you, Styx? Are you ready?” he said. The redheaded punk had the most difficult part to play, but Jack had not been able to come up with a plan that cast her in a smaller role.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her voice unconvincing. She fidgeted with her cell phone, her face pale and drawn.
“We don’t have to do this,” Jack said and sat on the bed next to Styx. “You have to want to do this and you have to want to get the answers you have been looking for.”
“She is not all bad, you know,” Styx said.
“I am sure she is wonderful when she wants to be,” Jack said, lying, for he could not imagine how anyone who kills like Maria Koshkova does, can be wonderful in any respect. “But you want to know, don’t you? You need to know why she had you followed and why she ordered you kidnapped, don’t you? Don’t you want answers?
“I do,” Styx said.
“And you will know within moments if we are wrong, I can guarantee you that. If you stay on script, you will know quickly if Maria is innocent or not,” Jack said. He had no doubt that Maria Koshkova was guilty. There was a mounting pile of evidence as far as he was concerned. He could not be sure about the kidnapping attempt of the punk girl, but there was no doubt in his mind that Koshkova was involved in Anna’s abduction, and, frankly, that was all he needed to know.
“You are right,” Styx said, “I’ll know soon enough.”
The punk girl was angry, not at Jack, though he was getting the brunt of her rage. She was angry at Maria for having ruined the passionate time they had shared, for having allowed Styx to discover pieces of Maria’s secret life she wished she had never known. But the genie was out the bottle and Styx had to know, had to erase any doubt by confronting her wonderful and dangerous lover. And Jack had set up a safe scenario in which Styx could learn the truth.
She punched the number into her phone and let out a big breath, pushing away fear and doubt.
Chapter 46
London, England, August 4, 2012, 1:15 PM
The phone vibrated in Maria Koshkova’s coat pocket, a half a block down Piccadilly. Maria stared at the familiar number on the display. Her heart pounded in her chest in a mixture of excitement and dread. Of course she had been worried about the safety of her lover and a sign of life was good news. At the same time the unexpected call meant potential trouble. Why was she calling? Was someone else forcing her to call? Would she spell out demands, from Diana? Maria punched the green button.
“Darling,” she said, infusing her voice with warmth and surprise. “How are you? You left so early this morning. I don’t know where you get all that energy,” she said, the words flowing out easily, but giving away nothing.
Maria stopped moving and turned into a store front entrance for privacy as a distraught and tearful Styx recounted the events of the morning in great detail, all the while sobbing uncontrollably. Maria’s hands turned cold, her breath short and uneven, as the quickly spoken words assembled into gruesome images in her mind. She had never considered the impact her actions would have on the victim, and the emotional description, especially coming from her lover, clamped around her heart like an angry fist.
I am so, so sorry,” Maria finally said. She did not have to lie. “I am only relieved that you are safe. Who intervened in this horrible act? She could not help but ask, it was the biggest question in her mind.
“There were undercover police, they just happened to be driving by, when they saw what was happening,” Styx lied on the other end of the cell phone connection.
Maria cursed silently. The follies of coincidence. How could she be so unlucky? It was unbelievable. Maria did not believe in coincidence, but in this case it was conceivable. She could think of no reason why the punk girl would lie, especially since the girl cried throughout the retelling. A coincidental intervention by the police had a greater ring of truth than her theories about Diana’s involvement.
“Where are you? I’ll come get you right away,” she said, her eyes searching for her bodyguard who had stopped a hundred feet back, watching traffic.
“I went to a hotel, it’s called the Railway Hotel,” Styx said, giving Maria the address and her room number. “I don’t want to leave. I am too frightened, Maria,” Styx said, the fear palpable in her thin voice.
“Don’t go anywhere, darling. I’ll grab a taxi and come for you. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Maria said. She disconnected the phone and stared at a red double-decker bus inching
its heavy bulk along Piccadilly. Was she going to get another bite at the apple? But first she had to learn what Styx knew: every detail of the botched abduction and every detail of what she had told the police. The police would interview the victim again and it was likely that somewhere Maria’s name would come up and that she could not allow. Styx had gotten away once, but the circumstances had grown worse for Styx, now that the police was involved.