by Babs Carryer
“He gave you this number?”
“Yes, he did. He, um, trusted me.” We hear a sob on the other end of the line. “Do you know Boris? Do you know what happened?”
“I am Vivian Christophe, Boris’ sister.”
Straler and I look at each other. He smiles. He loves this.
Vivian continues, “I live in Boston. Boris left me his phone few days ago. He was all in a rush. He needed to borrow my car right away he said. I was very confused because I had only just dropped him off at the airport. I thought he was leaving, but then he showed up on my doorstep and said that he would be in touch later. I don’t think that he meant to leave me the phone. But it was too late. He was out of the door and the driveway a minute later. Then I get the call from the police. He was in a car accident. My car is totaled. Boris is dead.”
“Vivian, I am so sorry about your loss. We were very fond of your brother at our company where he worked. I hate to ask you this, but I am with a detective in Pittsburgh, and we would like to ask you a few questions. I know that this is painful, but it’s important. It might lead to understanding what happened to Boris.” Straler looks at me appreciatively.
“Vivian,” Straler steps in. “My name is Detective Straler Henrik, here in the City of Pittsburgh. I am investigating a potential murder of a man that Boris worked for. I was at your brother’s accident site.”
You were?” I ask incredulously and Straler quickly punches the mute button on my phone.
“Tell you later,” he says. “Let’s do this first.” He punches the mute button again. “Vivian, I don’t know all of the details of the accident but am determined to find out. I believe that there is a link between your brother being in that car and Brie Prince here being in another car.”
“What?” I mouth to him. He nods to me and holds up his finger to wait.
“Vivian, I need to ask you some very difficult questions…”
What we learn, in between the tears of his sister, is that Boris had just visited his sister in Boston. He had told her that he was in trouble and was going to disappear again for a while. She took him to the airport to fly back to California. She didn’t know much about why Boris was in trouble. Or, at least she didn’t tell us. But we already knew some of it from Straler’s research.
“So what happened at the airport?” I ask when we hung up with Vivian.
“Guess who he saw?” Straler answers with a glint in his eye?
“You mean me? He saw me? He saw us at the airport?”
“Yep, at least that’s what I think. Brie, I think that he saw you and wanted to tell you something.”
“What about?”
Straler sighs, “We’ll never know for sure, but I’d hazard a guess that he had something to tell you about the Popov Brothers, or about Errol. He knew that you were investigating.”
“So you think that he followed me. That he knew that I was in the car. That he was driving close behind because he wanted to…”
“Not to kill you, Brie. He wanted to talk to you. Remember that he left his cellphone with his sister? When he realized that he had no phone, my guess is that he was trying to get close to you so that you would see him and stop your car.”
I pause and think through the implications. “So, if Boris hadn’t left his cellphone at his sister’s, he might have been able to call me and the accident might never have happened?” I remember the missed calls.
“Yes, that’s a possibility.”
“But he hit me with that red car. Why did he do that? He just wanted to talk to me, right?”
“Brie, there was another car behind him.” I remember the white van. Swerving as I swerved. I hadn’t understood, but it becomes clear with a chilling realization. “The guys in the van were trying to kill him.”
“Oh my gosh, Straler, it was the white van!”
“Yes it was.”
“And you were there?”
“Yes, Brie. I had second thoughts of you driving alone to your parents, and so I decided to follow you. I rented a tan Toyota Camry.”
I look at him and I know that my face registers shock.
“Brie, it’s not that I don’t trust you, get it? But I was concerned for you, after New York and all…” Straler looks down at his hands.
“That was you? I saw that car. In fact, I saw that car as I was trying to call you!”
“Brie, I got the call. I was there. I only wish I could have stopped what happened. I feel terrible about you. That’s why I was there at the hospital. I couldn’t leave until… well, until we knew you were alright.”
“What about the white van?”
“The white van got away. I got the license number and we’ve traced it through a bunch of levels to find out that it’s owned by a firm that has Russian connections. To Popov Brothers.”
I walk Straler to the elevator with difficulty on my crutches. He smells like fresh cut grass, I think, as I try to regain my balance after he hugs me goodbye. Some men just have an earthy smell.
Chapter 38
That same day
A few hours later, as I recount this to Jim, in preparation for a call to Popov Brothers, I wonder again about my idea of going to Russia. How could we find out anything on the phone? I also remember what Boris said about one of the partners. “You know Jim, Boris mentioned the third partner, the one that we don’t know at all, Peter, I think is his name.”
“P-y-o-t-r, I think is how you spell it. Let’s ask. When we talk. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Time to call,” he announces. “Is the detective joining us?”
“No, he told me to email him a summary after the call. Said he had other things that were urgent that he had to do. I guess this is not his only case?”
Alexei answers the phone himself this time. He sounds anxious as he cuts short the usual pleasantries. He tells us that Grigorii is on the call also.
Jim leads off, “Thank you both for taking our call. As you know, we are investigating what happened with Errol, and a couple of questions have arisen that we want to discuss. That OK with you?”
There is a kind of stunned silence and then Alexei says, “Of course, we help you any way we can.”
“We want to start with some questions about Errol. But we want also to ask you about Boris Zokshin. You know him, right?”
“Of course,” Alexei says, dismissively. “And good riddance to him.”
I am stunned, although Jim maintains a poker face. He mouths the words “Errol first.” I nod.
“We’ll get to Boris. Let’s start with Errol. When did you and Errol actually meet? Was it around the time of our financing, at the introduction of Boris, or did you meet him before that?”
Another long pause. I hear a few low words in Russian. I don’t know what they mean, but if I had to place my bets I’d say they were Russian swear words. “Yes,” Alexei says. “We meet Errol before that. In Moscow. At conference. He present with woman about data for Parkinson’s. That why we so interested in Quixotic. We want very much market drug for Parkinson’s in Russia. We have big problem with this. In whole of country, but also in family.”
“I see,” Jim says. “Please don’t misunderstand me; I am not making any accusations, but why didn’t you mention this before? And while you are at it, can you tell us why Errol would object to your becoming investors in Quixotic? Because he did, you know. And I want to know about Boris Zokshin too. Brie told me that he had disappeared. That he seemed afraid of you.” Jim pauses and then continues. “You see, Alexei, we have a lot of unanswered questions.”
I hear more Russian swear words. I try to write them down phonetically to look them up later. Alexei clears his throat, utters a few more words, and then begins. “OK, Brianna and Jim. I tell you whole story. You have time?” I’d like to set the record straight, that it’s Brie like the cheese, but, once again, the time is not right.
Jim and I sit in stunned silence when the call is finished. It was quite a story. As we knew, there are indeed three brothers. Alexei is t
he oldest. Grigorii is the middle one, and Pyotr is the youngest. While Parkinson’s is only hereditary in 15% of cases, the Popov family is riddled with it: a sibling, their mother, sister, grandparents on both sides. Pyotr was paranoid about the disease. He had always been unstable, maybe overshadowed by his older siblings? It was Pyotr’s twin sister that had developed Parkinson’s at an early age. Without revealing details, they told us a story about the Russia Mafia and how Pyotr became involved over time. They mentioned gambling, drugs, even the sex trade. It was shocking. It seemed that the other brothers, Alexei and Grigorii were not involved and that they tried to get their brother out of the mob.
Another brother; I think of Yahya. This one will also end badly, I fear.
Alexei switched back to their fear of Parkinson’s for their families. Apparently, Alexei had heard the talk by Errol and Maya and talked to him afterwards. He was so thrilled by the possibility of a Parkinson’s cure that he arranged to meet Errol later, and he invited his two brothers to join him, telling them about the positive preliminary data.”
Alexei told us that he hoped Errol would license the technology to a firm that they would establish in Russia. What he wanted were the Russian rights only. He didn’t care about the other international rights, and it seemed that this satisfied Errol because he knew that Quixotic would want to keep its rights to the promising drug in the U.S. and other countries. But he was pretty sure that the company would be alright with letting the Russian rights go to Popov. Apparently they agreed in principle about how this would work. But never got that far because of what happened.
Alexei described the plan to establish an entity which would hold the license. Alexei said that Errol started to ask them lots of questions about how the company would work, who would run it, who would be in control, and what would the relationship be with Quixotic. Pyotr apparently started to talk at this point. He laid out his plan before his brothers could shut him up. He wanted to put some kind of puppet in place, a pseudo-entrepreneur, who would ostensibly run the company, but, really, Errol would run it from afar. He basically offered Errol a deal where he would, outside of Quixotic, own shares in the Russian company and be the one in control. Apparently Errol was offended. He got angry. Things escalated, and Pyotr told him how he had a young entrepreneur killed who didn’t do what he said.
Errol threatened to go to the police. Pyotr pulled out a gun; it became a big mess. They were thrown out of the bar. Which happened to be the hotel bar. Errol apparently had a hard time getting back in the building to go up to his room.
It would be funny, except that it wasn’t.
“So this why Errol no like us. Alexei had admitted. “This our fault. We no control Pyotr and he say terrible things.”
“What about Boris? Jim had asked. “What role did he play in all this?”
Alexei groaned then. “Boris, he work for the company that Pyotr control.”
“You mean Boris worked for a company where the entrepreneur was murdered because he didn’t do what Pyotr said?”
“Please,” Alexei said quickly. “Not true like that. Entrepreneur not killed. He had, well, he had accident.”
“Ah, I see,” I replied. “Why did Boris have to leave Quixotic and Pittsburgh?” I ask.
“Because,” Alexei answered me, “Boris, he afraid. He think Pyotr kill Errol. But I assure you. Pyotr not in U.S. when Errol die. And he not have anyone kill Errol.”
“How do we know that?” Jim asked harshly.
“Because Pyotr, he dead.”
Pyotr had died six months before Errol was killed. It was an organized crime thing of some sort. They also added that Pyotr had exhibited early signs of Parkinson’s.
We ended the call. Jim and I spend a minute processing what we just heard.
“Does this explain what happened to Boris?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Jim responds quietly. He looks shaken.
“We didn’t tell them about my accident, about Boris, that he was in the accident, that he is dead.”
“That’s right. They don’t need to know everything. All of this may be connected,” Jim concludes.
…….
Straler isn’t answering my texts or calls. I leave him voicemail that I am meeting with Yahya and asks if he wants to come. No answer. OK, I get it. His boss has made it clear. She doesn’t think it’s murder or she doesn’t think we can solve it. Either way, Straler is probably off the case. It will remain a U, undetermined.
I have arranged to meet Yahya for coffee at the Starbucks in the Whole Foods parking lot. I know it will be an ordeal with my crutches so I’m happy when I find a parking spot close to the entrance. Yahya rides his bike everywhere, and the weather has been lovely; I hope that it holds for this meeting. I don’t want to feel any more guilt about him.
I arrive early, but he’s already there. I see his bike parked outside, and he sees me hobble the few steps from where I park. He rushes out to meet me. “I hear from Shala about you. I so sorry, am so sorry.” We get settled and he orders coffee for the two of us and insists on paying. We sit in silence for a moment. His dark eyes do not intimidate me now. He smiles, revealing those perfect white teeth.
“Yahya,” I begin.
He shushes me, “Brie, it not your fault. I understand. In your shoes, I think same thing.” He smiles again. His face tightens. It must be hard, I realize. I know that I had nothing to do with the terrorist cell bust; that was just coincidental. But I feel his pain.
“Yahya, I would never do anything to get you in trouble. I didn’t really suspect you; I just needed to follow a hunch. You understand what I mean? It’s just that the whole situation with Errol is so important. I found out that he was not alone on the boat. Someone murdered him. It’s likely that it was someone that he knew. How else would they be on his boat? So, everyone is a suspect. That included you, others, and, I suppose, me. But I’m trying to solve the murder because…” I bite my lip. Should I tell him? Since New York I feel that I can trust Yahya. His pain is as great as mine, perhaps more. He has nothing to hide from me and I cannot hide anything from him. “I have to solve this murder, Yahya, because Errol left something for me. My dad has Huntington’s and I couldn’t get him into any of the clinical trials. It doesn’t matter anyway because, as you probably know, NGX cancelled the Phase III trial for HD66.”
Yahya looks surprised. He reaches out and puts his hand on mine on the table. I know how hard that is for him. “My father is doomed, as good as dead. But, before he died, Errol sent me a message about having something for me. I’m sure that it’s a cure. I think that he intended to give me something that might help my father. I hope that you understand. That’s why I am working with Detective Henrik to solve this murder. I believe that I will find what Errol intended for me along the way.” I pause. My coffee is cold but I don’t care. I gulp it down noisily trying to hide my emotions.
He lifts his hand from mine. His eyes bore into mine. “Brie, I think you have right idea suspecting me.”
“What?” I ask. “But…”
He interrupts me, “Not me, because I not kill Errol, but someone did, and nerve agent is good reason.”
He pauses, and we look at each other. “Then who?”
“Who you think?” He lays the question out like an invitation.
“Patrick?” I ask.
“I not know for sure, but Patrick very dark. Has past with IRA. You know this organization in Ireland? It violent. Like what you suspect me of. Like my brother. Patrick has uncle who was killed in what he call, troubles. Nerve agent very valuable to freedom fighters anywhere. Why not in the north of Ireland?”
I don’t know what to think. His reasoning is sound, but I have been down this path a couple of times now. False paths so far. I know that I am running out of leads. But I don’t want to jump because of that. I want to be sure.
“Can you find out?” I ask.
“Yes, I think, maybe, I try,” Yahya answers. “In lab. I try last few days. He seem very dark,
angry, he yell at me once. He tell me yesterday I don’t understand what is going on. He say a lot of things. Hmph,” Yahya snorts. “I live with this violence too. I understand Protestant, Catholic, England occupying, long fight, many years, much pain. I know this.” He looks out the window at the parking lot. Cars entering, cars exiting.
“I think I need to get the detective in on this,” I say. “I really can’t do this alone, particularly now, with this,” I say pointing to my leg.
“Yes, agree,” he says simply.
“And there’s something else.”
“Yes?” he asks, his dark brows raised like arches in a cathedral.
“There’s been another death.”
There is a sharp intake of breath. “What? Who?”
“A scientist. He was with Errol’s lab at Quixotic. A Russian named Boris.”
“Yes, I met him. He interested in Parkinson’s. He no listen when Errol tell him we not have working for Parkinson’s.”
“Yes, he was very interested in that. Maybe he thought you were close to a solution?”
“Not sure. I be in touch,” Yahya announces as he stands up to leave. He gives me a cellphone number for him. “You can text me. I am going to list you in my phone as Mary Stuart.”
I chuckle, “Yahya, how historic!”
He is off on his bike before I am two steps out the door. My car seems impossibly far away as I hobble onto the parking lot.
…….
My phone buzzes insistently as I make my way towards my car. It’s difficult for me to stop on the crutches, and I fumble with my bag, trying to extricate my phone. I lift the phone out triumphantly only to realize that it stopped buzzing a second before – the call is lost. Hmm, no number that I recognize. I put the phone back into the abyss of my bag and continue towards my car. Buzz, buzz again. Having practiced, this time I am quicker and I manage to get the phone out and to my ear before the buzzing stops. “Hello?” I inquire.
“Brie, it’s Straler.”
“Oh wow, sorry, I didn’t recognize the number. You missed the meeting with Yahya, and for that matter you haven’t responded to my email about our phone call with Popov. What’s up?”