She frowned. “About yesterday.”
“Yes.”
Anya finished wiping the plate and put it away. “Do they know about you?”
“Yep. They want to talk to me.”
She pursed her lips. “You need to see them, you know.”
“I’m not sure that’s wise.”
She moved closer to him and motioned to a chair at the table. “Sit down.” When he hesitated she said, stronger, “Sit.”
He did, and she took a spot across the table from him. “You need to know something about Russian police. They only ask for so long, then they tell. And if they can’t find you, they’ll keep looking. And you don’t want them to find you. So, you find them.”
Nick sighed and nodded. “Tom gave me the guy’s number.”
She smiled. “Perfect. Call him, now. Show him you don’t have anything to hide.”
“But I do have something to hide. I have lots to hide, including a dead fat Russian.”
She shook her head. “They have nothing. If they had even a little bit of evidence, you’d be in handcuffs right now. Talk to them.” She flipped the towel over her shoulder. “I think you can lie to them without problem.”
Nick wasn’t so sure, but he couldn’t think of another option so he dialed the number. Anya watched with interest.
The connection completed and a man answered in Russian. All Nick caught was the word “Peter” but it was enough.
“Zdrastvoytye, this is Nick Wallace,” he said. “I understand you wanted to talk to me?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end, then the voice said in halting English. “Yes, Nick. Thank you for calling. My name Pyotr Archipenko. I’m with Rostov police. I need to talk you about…” there was another pause as the man apparently consulted notes or a computer screen. “…Scott and Katie Pearson. Do you know them?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what happened?”
Nick paused for a beat. “I’ve heard things from my friend Tom, yes.”
“Scott is dead and Katie is in hospital. Can we meet to discuss why this may have occurred?”
“Yes, of course,” Nick replied.
“May I come to hotel to talk?”
Nick thought quickly, then mentally shrugged. The guy probably knew anyway. “I’m not there. I’ve changed locations.”
“Oh? And why is that?” The man was not surprised; he had obviously known. Nick was glad he didn’t try to lie. Yet.
Nick pressed the phone against his leg and whispered to Anya, “Where can I meet him?”
“Gorodskoy Park,” she whispered back.
He lifted the phone back to his ear and said, “Can we meet at Gorodskoy Park?”
There was a long moment of silence before the man said, “Da, we meet at Gorodskoy Park. Today?”
“Yes. In about an hour?”
“Da, that is good.”
“How will I know you?” Nick asked.
“You won’t. But I’ll know you.”
Nick hung up the phone and rubbed his eyes.
The park was a tree-filled square nestled between four busy streets a few miles from the river. Benches with peeling red paint lined dirt paths. Kids ran among the trees, followed by tired parents. The sun was hot but the trees provided good cover.
Nick walked the paths, watching the people and waiting for Pyotr Archipenko to show up. He was tense. He did not like the thought of talking to the police, and he did not like the thought of not knowing who the hell he was about to meet with. Information was power, and right now he felt powerless.
He passed a couple kissing on a bench. Their faces were partially hidden, but the man appeared to be at least twenty years older than the woman and he was the only one wearing a wedding ring. They were lost in their own world and didn’t notice him. The man had his hand on the woman’s naked thigh, sliding it up and down, fingers roughly gliding under the hem of her skirt, pushing it up towards her waist. His breathing was labored. Nick could hear it from several feet away.
He thought of the fat man on top of Katie and sneered. He slowed and took a step towards the couple. Shook his head to clear it and sped up, past them. He didn’t look at them. He was afraid at what he might do if he did. Especially with an unseen cop around. Soon they were behind him and he breathed easier.
He thought briefly about turning around and going back to the apartment. This meeting had the chance of getting real ugly real fast. And even if they didn’t have anything concrete against him, as Anya said, Nick had no doubt they could and would keep him in the city until their investigation was complete. Perhaps he wouldn’t be in jail, but he wouldn’t be free, either, and Nonna would probably go someplace else. Why would the orphanage want to place one of their children with a man under investigation by the police? The short answer was they wouldn’t.
And that’s why Nick had a huge, sour knot in the pit of his stomach.
But he also knew he couldn’t ignore them. Despite what Anya said, Nick was certain he could avoid the police for a week. But if they didn’t know about Nonna yet, they would soon. He could possibly leave Russia without talking to the police, but the seat next to him would be unoccupied.
He spied a man at the far end of the path, probably thirty yards away. Light blue shirt, dark blue pants. Hands in his pockets. He was watching Nick, not making any moves to disguise himself. Nick squared his shoulders and walked over.
Pyotr was younger than Nick was expecting, perhaps thirty, but his light brown hair was already receding over the top of his head. He had blue eyes and angular features. His shirt was rumpled, as if he had been sitting for a long period of time, and one side was pulled out of his pants, bulging over his belt. The rest of his waist was narrow, although from working out or simply not eating, Nick didn’t know. He didn’t smile, he just watched Nick with his head cocked.
Nick stopped three feet in front of the man and nodded. Only then did Pyotr pull his hands from his pockets. In one hand was a pocket voice recorder.
“Hello, Nick,” he said in heavily accented English. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Nick nodded again. “Of course,” he said. “I’d like to help in any way I can.” The words sounded false as he said them.
Pyotr raised the hand that grasped the recorder and made a show of pressing the play button. “Do you mind if I record? My English is not so good. I can listen to this later and translate better.”
And use it in court, too, Nick thought. He replied, “Yes, you may record.” He spoke in a loud voice, to make sure it registered on the recorder. Pyotr smiled slightly. Both knew they weren’t fooling the other
They sat down at a nearby bench, Pyotr placing the recorder on the scarred wood between them.
“I wish to speak to you about Scott Pearson and Katie Pearson,” Pyotr began somewhat formally. “Did you know them?”
Nick thought for a moment. He knew he had to be careful. “Yes, I knew them somewhat. We were here to adopt children. However, I had never met them before last week.”
Pyotr nodded. “I understand Scott had…what is the word? Difficulties with somebody?”
“Yes,” Nick replied.
“What do you know of them?”
“The difficulties?”
“Da. Er, yes.”
Nick’s phone vibrated silently in his pants pocket. Ignoring it, he leaned back, away from the other man, and thought for a moment. “I know he got mixed up with some men who wanted money from him.”
“Why did they want money?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. I heard rumors about a girl.”
Pyotr sighed. Nick could see any hopes of easy information evaporate from the man’s mind. Nick almost smiled.
“What rumors?”
“I heard he slept with a call girl,” Nick said. “The men in charge knew he was married and decided to blackmail him.” Nick knew this was common knowledge and figured giving the man information he already had wouldn’t hurt.
Pyo
tr nodded, didn’t write anything down. “Do you know who these men were?”
“No.”
Pyotr looked surprised. “No? More than one person said you bloodied one and threatened another in a club.”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t need to know who I hit.”
His phone vibrated again. Nick placed his hand on his pants, over the phone in his pocket.
“And why did you hit them?”
Nick exhaled slowly. “You know why I hit them,” he said. “I hit them because they were threatening Scott and Katie. Now why are you asking me all of these questions, when you already know the answers?”
Pyotr smiled thinly. It gave him a predator look, one that Nick hadn’t seen before. “And what questions should I be asking? Perhaps why my colleagues found the body of Vladimir Zhorovski in a brothel with large hole in his neck?”
Nick didn’t miss a beat. “Who is Vladimir…?”
“Zhorovski. Vladimir Zhorovski is a very rich man, a personal friend of several powerful leaders. His death will be investigated.”
“As it should. But that has nothing to do with me.” Nick looked into Pyotr’s eyes as he said it.
“Perhaps,” the Russian said slowly. “Or perhaps you’re not telling me everything you know.”
Nick’s phone vibrated a third time.
Without taking his eyes off Nick’s face, Pyotr said, “Will you please answer that? They’ve called three times.” He smiled at Nick’s surprised look. “I’ve talked to many people, and know when their phones go off.”
Nick sighed, stood up, and reached into his pocket. He interrupted the phone in mid-vibrate. “Hello?” he said, crossly as he took a few steps away from the bench.
“Nick, this is Andrei.”
“I’m a bit busy now,” Nick said. He almost said his friend’s name and then thought better of it. “Can I call you back?”
“Are you with a detective?”
Nick knew better than to glance at Pyotr. “Yes,” he replied.
“Then get out of there quickly.”
“Why?”
“Because he works for Dmitri.”
Chapter 22
Nick was glad he was turned away from Pyotr. His stomach clenched tight and he was sure his face betrayed everything. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then said, “Oh?” casually.
“Yes. He’s on Dmitri’s payroll. He’s there to find out how much you know. If you give him anything, he’ll bring you in.”
Nick felt his face heat up. “Ahh, OK,” he said. He hoped his voice didn’t sound as strained as it felt.
“Have you said anything yet?”
“No.”
“Good. Get out of there.”
“OK, thank you.”
“Call me after you leave.”
Nick cut the connection, turned off the phone, jammed it back in his pocket, and sat down.
Pyotr looked at him closely. “Are you well?” he asked.
Nick shook his head. From what he knew about the detective, he wasn’t going to fool him. “I just received some news about the adoption. I’ll be OK in a moment.”
“I hope it wasn’t bad,” Pyotr said.
“I hope so, too,” Nick replied. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Do you wish to end our discussion?”
Nick thought for a moment. If he left now, he was sure he’d just have to finish the conversation later. Best to get it over with now. He was already starting to calm down, to regulate himself. Just do it, he told himself.
“What do you want to know?”
Pyotr pursed his lips, nodded. “I want to know why two Americans, one dead, were found in the brothel.”
“I’m not the one you should be asking.”
Pyotr raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And who should I ask?”
Nick realized he was getting into dangerous territory, but he was getting annoyed. If Pyotr was in bed with Dmitri and his goons, it was about time they were served notice. “I’d check with Sergei first. He’s the one who started this.”
“Who’s Sergei?”
Don’t play dumb, Nick thought. You know damn well who Sergei is. “He works at the Chicken Shack—uh, at that restaurant outside the Rostov Hotel. He’s one of the ones blackmailing Scott.”
Pyotr made a “hmm” sound and didn’t write the name down. “From what I know, I believe Scott started it.”
“Scott made a mistake and slept with a hooker,” Nick replied, voice rising. He fought to calm himself as he noticed a small smile cross Pyotr’s face. It was fleeting, but it was there. “There was no reason for him to die.”
“I agree. However, it seems he, how do you say it, went looking for trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked, his surprise only partially faked.
Pyotr shrugged and picked at something on his coat. “It is ongoing investigation, I cannot say too much.”
Nick grunted.
“However,” Pyotr went on, “From eyewitnesses, Scott went to a music store, with a gun, looking for those who blackmailed him. Do you know why he would do this?”
“Because he had a bad temper, and was sick of being threatened by a bunch of thugs.”
Pyotr nodded. “Of course. And his wife went there—“
“Looking for him,” Nick finished. Pyotr nodded again.
“Unfortunately, she found the wrong people,” he said.
Nick looked hard at the detective. The man seemed genuinely concerned about what had happened, and wanted to get at the truth. If he really was a stooge for Dmitri, why all this dance?
Unless it was to get Nick to admit to something that could get him tossed in jail. Dmitri had said the war was just beginning. If Nick was arrested, the war would be over before it really started.
He swallowed his next statement and stared straight ahead. Pyotr seemed to notice his change in attitude.
“They did terrible things to her.”
Nick turned to look at the detective. He could feel a tingling of adrenaline in his chest, above his heart. He knew the roaring would start in his ear soon enough. He had to be away from the detective when that started.
“So what are you going to do about it?” he asked the Russian.
Pyotr put his hand on Nick’s arm. “I’m going to find the people who did this. I must do it through lawful means, however.”
“Just do it,” Nick said through clenched teeth.
“There are…complications,” Pyotr said. “For example, the body of Vladimir. Do you know why he was killed?”
“No.”
“Do you know who he was with?”
“No.”
Pyotr eyed him carefully. “He was with Katie.”
Nick fought hard to keep his face composed. He thought of Nonna. He thought of his wife and his daughter playing in a sandbox in their back yard in Bend. He thought of cruising through the Oregon desert with Danny, yelling and laughing.
He thought of the fat Russian on top of Katie.
He swallowed.
“Then he deserved to die,” Nick said.
“Why did you leave the hotel?” Pyotr asked.
Nick blinked hard, caught naked by the change of questioning. “What?”
“You’ve moved out of the hotel.”
Nick reached out and brushed dirt off his pant leg. “My things are still in room 402,” he replied.
“Perhaps, but not all of them, and you haven’t been seen in the hotel for at least one day.”
“I’ve been busy,” Nick said.
“Doing what?”
“Am I under investigation?”
Pyotr smiled and waved a hand. “Of course not. I must look at everything. It seems odd that you would leave the hotel they put you in.”
Nick didn’t reply. He watched as a figure approached and bided his time. Anya walked up to them demurely and put her hand on Nick’s shoulder.
“Hi, honey,” she said. “I’m getting bored. Are you done talking yet?”
Nic
k snaked his arm around her waist. “Soon, dear, soon.” He turned back to Pyotr. “What did you want to know again?”
Pyotr eyed Anya and said slowly, “I wondered why you were no longer at the hotel.”
Anya laughed, a pretty, lilting sound in the park. “He found nicer accommodations.”
Nick gave her a squeeze. “She cooks better than I do.”
Pyotr stared at the two of them, for once at a loss for words.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Nick asked.
Pyotr slowly shook his head. “No, not for now.”
Nick got up. “OK, thank you.”
“I do have one more question,” Pyotr said. “When do you leave Rostov?”
“I pick up my daughter in three days,” Nick replied.
“Good. Please make yourself available if I have more questions,” Pyotr said.
Nick nodded slightly. “Good day, detective.”
He walked away with Anya, arm in arm. His back tingled and he knew Pyotr was watching him.
When they turned the corner he took his arm out from around Anya and wiped his forehead. He had been doing a lot of that lately. “Thanks for rescuing me,” he said.
“I wasn’t sure if you were giving me the signal or just wiping your pant leg,” Anya replied.
“Oh, that was definitely the signal,” Nick said. “He was getting too close. The man is good. He doesn’t stop.”
“He’s a detective, he’s had training.”
“His English isn’t nearly as bad as he’d like me to think, either.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Yeah. He started by whipping out a voice recorder, spewing something about how he wanted to record me because his English stunk. But as he got into it, suddenly he was speaking pretty damn well.”
Anya nodded. “Not surprising. Most of them have good language skills.”
Nick stopped and turned to Anya, taking her hands in his. He glanced back but didn’t see Pyotr. It didn’t mean he wasn’t there, watching them, though.
“I had a call from Andrei,” he said quietly.
Anya raised her eyebrows and looked guilty. “When you were meeting?”
“Yes. Did you tell him that I was going to talk to a detective?”
She looked down. “Yes,”
Worth The Risk Page 14