by Alex Archer
All she had to go on was her gut feeling.
And her gut told her that Csilla hadn’t done it.
But that was where her problem arose. Her gut was also telling her that the information Novack had supplied her with was on the up-and-up—that women were being targeted by a smart killer who had managed, either with the police’s help or without it, to keep his or her activities under the radar.
And yet Novack’s personnel file was pretty damning. Both to Novack and his theory. The former officer had made no mention of his drinking problem when they’d met last night. In fact, if Tamás was to be believed, Novack had not only left out that little detail but had actively lied about the reason he’d been drummed off the force. Given all the documentation Tamás had provided on the man’s mental state, it was getting harder to believe that Novack’s entire narrative wasn’t just some fantastical story. After all, what real proof did he have?
That wasn’t fair, she said to herself. What proof did she have that her sword could appear and disappear at will?
She almost brushed off the question as ridiculous—her subconscious could be a real pain at times—but then she realized it wasn’t so ridiculous after all.
Annja was going to have to make a choice.
18
Annja needed time to relax and get her thoughts in order, so she had a leisurely dinner in a nice little Italian place a few blocks from her hotel. She even had a piece of tiramisu and a cup of hot chocolate for dessert.
In the end, she decided to give Novack a chance to explain himself. She owed him that much. If he’d had a drinking problem but was clean now—which he’d appeared to be when she’d seen him the past two times—then perhaps he was simply too embarrassed to bring it up. He’d readily admitted that he’d been all but drummed off the force, so she couldn’t fault him too badly for not wanting to talk about the details. Especially if he’d been hoping to convince her of a rather outlandish story to begin with.
If he came clean and admitted the lie, she’d continue working with him on the investigation. Her gut was still telling her something was wrong here.
If she walked away and it turned out he was correct, she’d have condemned Csilla to imprisonment for a crime she didn’t commit, and the killer might go on to destroy the lives of others.
That was something for which she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself.
But she needed to know she could trust him to uphold his end of the partnership and that he wouldn’t crack under pressure.
Pleased that she’d made a decision, Annja finished off her hot chocolate with one last gulp, paid the check and headed back to her hotel. She said hello to the doorman as she passed inside. After waiting for the elevator with a pair of elderly men who smelled of cigarettes and mouthwash, she rode up with them in silence. They got off on the floor below hers.
As Annja came down the hall toward her room, she noticed that her door was slightly ajar. No more than an inch, but even an inch was problematic, because she was certain that she’d not only pulled it firmly shut but locked it behind her when she’d left.
She stopped a few feet away from the door and listened.
She didn’t hear anything.
Annja glanced up and down the hall, checking to be sure that it was empty. Confident that she wouldn’t be observed, she reached into the otherwhere for her sword.
Feeling more confident now that she had a weapon in hand, Annja stepped to the side of the hallway and slowly advanced until she stood just outside her room with her back to the wall.
She listened again, but aside from the drone of a voice somewhere on the floor above, she didn’t hear anyone moving about inside her room.
Still, it paid to be careful.
She reached out with the tip of her sword and nudged the door open the rest of the way.
Armed assailants didn’t come charging out of the room, nor did a hail of withering gunfire chew the door into smithereens.
You’ve been watching too many movies, Creed.
Annja gave it a moment, and then peeked around the corner quickly before pulling her head back.
Her room was in shambles. Drawers were hanging out of the dresser, clothes were everywhere and it looked like someone had torn apart the mattress.
The files.
She wanted to rush in, to see if they were still there, but prudence reared its head and she took her time, slowly moving around the doorway and into the room just in case someone was still inside. She found the bedroom and the bath empty. A quick check of the closest confirmed no one was hiding in there, either.
Satisfied that she was alone, Annja released the sword back into the otherwhere and stared at the destruction around her.
They’d been thorough, whoever they were. Every drawer had been pulled out, their contents dumped on the floor. The television had been smashed open, the interior no doubt searched for heaven knows what. The mattress and box spring had been pulled off the frame, but not before the sheets had been stripped off and the interior torn open with a knife. Clumps of mattress stuffing were everywhere.
Of course her backpack, her laptop and the thick stack of files Novack had given her the night before were nowhere in sight.
The first two items she understood, but the files? They weren’t worth anything on the street. Who would want those?
She turned and examined the door, noting splinters in the wood of the jamb right next to the lock. It looked like someone had jammed a screwdriver or crowbar into the space and leveraged the door open. It wouldn’t have been quiet, but it would have been fast, and if they’d closed the door behind them no one would have realized what they were doing. If there had been someone watching her at the restaurant, they could have searched the place pretty thoroughly without fear that she’d walk in on them.
All her doubts about the validity of Novack’s theory were now gone. The destruction of the room and the theft of her backpack and laptop were just a cover for what the thieves had really been after.
The files themselves.
And the only reason someone would want those was if they contained damaging information...something that might point to those responsible for all the deaths.
Someone wanted to interrupt, possibly even stop, the investigation.
Annja had no intention of letting that happen.
Novack was on to something. He had to be. If he wasn’t, they never would have come for the files.
She was about to summon the manager and have him file a police report when her phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket...only to find it wasn’t her cell phone ringing after all.
Hotel phone.
Annja glanced at the desk where the phone had been; it was little more than a splintered ruin.
But the phone cord was still plugged into the wall.
Annja picked it up and began following it, hunting for the phone.
The ringing went on, and something in the sound spoke of a deep urgency. Whoever was on the other end was in trouble. Annja began digging through the detritus, following the cord.
“Keep ringing, keep ringing,” she ordered it as she threw clothing and clumps of mattress stuffing and bits and pieces of the television out of the way in her frantic search until at last she found what she was looking for.
Annja snatched up the receiver.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello? Anyone there?”
For a moment she thought it was a dead line, that she’d been too late, but then a man’s voice whispered in her ear.
“Annja?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“They’re here, Annja. At least one, maybe more. I don’t think I can get out.”
“Who’s there? Where are you?”
The voice was familiar, but she couldn�
�t put her finger on who it was.
“Keep the files safe. They’re all we have.”
Novack.
Annja glanced at the wreckage of her hotel room and suddenly understood where her intruders had gone.
“Where are you?”
“My home.” He rattled off an address on the northeast side of the city. “I don’t think you’re going to make it in time. Take the files to Radecki. He’ll know what to do.”
“Novack, wait! I...”
She heard a crash over the line, followed by several shouts, and then the dial tone began pulsing in her ear.
Novack had hung up.
Or someone had hung up for him.
Annja turned and sprinted down the hall, headed for the stairs at the far end. She didn’t have time to wait for the elevator.
She raced down three flights of stairs, threw open the door at the bottom—almost colliding with a room service waiter—and dashed across the lobby followed by the staffer’s shouts. Annja didn’t care. She only had one thought, and that was to get to Novack as quickly as she could.
She unlocked the car door, flung herself behind the wheel and raced out of the parking lot, headed north. At the first traffic light she took a moment to punch the address Novack had given her into her cell phone and waited for the maps function to tell her where to go.
With a route in hand, Annja rushed through the city, cutting corners and racing through lights whenever the opportunity presented itself, and she still felt as if she was moving too slowly. She barely knew Novack—had only met with him twice—but she had seen in him a kindred spirit, someone else who wanted to see justice triumph. Allies like Novack were few and far between, and there was no way she’d allow him to face whoever was behind all this on his own.
She had to get there in time!
The GPS told her to turn right and so Annja did, bouncing over the curb and nearly taking out a row of newspaper kiosks in the process before accelerating back into traffic. She weaved in and out around the slower-moving cars and leaned on her horn when they weren’t fast enough to get out of her way.
After what felt like hours, she left the busier part of the city behind and entered a residential area. The GPS took her through a series of turns down some side streets, and she could see from the map on the screen that she was getting close.
Hang on, Havel, almost there.
She came to a stop sign and was about to roll through it when a fire truck came roaring up behind her, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Annja caught the faint smell of smoke. The smell grew considerably stronger when she lowered the car window.
As she watched the fire truck drive on, she realized it was headed in same direction as she was.
Oh, no.
19
Annja was still a block away when she saw the flames. Their lurid brilliance lit the night sky ahead of her, outlining the trees and houses like some kind of macabre stage show.
Her heart dropped.
She turned into the cul-de-sac where Novack lived and stopped the car right in the middle of the road, staring at the conflagration.
There were four houses on the street—two on her right, one on her left, plus the one dead ahead that was engulfed in flames. She could hear the crackling of the fire as it ran rampant across the building, like some malevolent creature.
The fire truck she’d been following joined one that was already on the scene. Both of them were pulled to the curb right in front of the house. Firefighters from the new arrival scrambled to add their hoses to the mix, while those who’d arrived earlier poured a steady stream of water onto the flames.
It didn’t seem to be doing much good.
The flames rose hungrily into the night.
Annja found a place to park and hurried toward the house.
A small crowd had gathered on the lawn of Novack’s neighbor, watching the fire silently. Annja ran over to them, calling Novack’s name, hoping she would find him standing there, unharmed. She grabbed one person after another, turning them around so she could see their faces, quickly moving to the next when she saw it wasn’t him. It took only a few seconds to realize he wasn’t there. When she didn’t find him, Annja turned and headed for the house.
She didn’t make it very far. The fire was consuming the entire structure, and the flames roared as the heat beat against her face, preventing her from getting too close. She shouted Novack’s name, barely able to hear herself.
Firemen appeared on either side of her. One draped a wet blanket over her shoulders while the other took her arm and began to pull her away from the fire, shouting in her ear that she needed to move back, that it wasn’t safe where she was.
“There’s someone inside!” she shouted, fighting against them. “You’ve got to get in there! You’ve got to get him out!”
But her pleas fell on deaf ears as they dragged her away from the blaze. She struggled at first but then gave in so they wouldn’t have to carry her. The truth was there wasn’t anything she could do anyway; if Novack was inside, he was already dead.
A paramedic appeared at her elbow. “What’s your name, miss?”
“Annja,” she replied, still staring at the flames.
“Come with me, Annja.”
She tore her gaze away and did as she was told. The paramedic was a few years younger than she was, but his voice was calm as he led her over to the back of an ambulance and helped her sit down. Now that they were away from the fire, he exchanged the wet blanket for a dry one and examined the exposed skin of her face and hands before handing her a bottle of cool water. “You don’t look like you suffered any flash burns. Drink this, though, or your throat is going to be scorched from the heat.”
He watched her as she drank, waiting until she’d finished half the bottle—and calmed down—before asking his next question.
“Do you know if there was anyone inside?”
Annja nodded. Her throat rasped as she said, “Novack. Havel Novack. It’s his house.”
The name didn’t seem to mean anything to the paramedic. His expression was the same as he asked, “How do you know he was home?”
“We spoke on the phone not ten minutes ago. He sounded anxious, as if there was a problem, so I drove over to see if I could help.”
There was a loud crash, and Annja looked over the paramedic’s shoulder to see a section of the roof collapse into the house’s interior, allowing fresh flames to leap skyward. Firemen were working frantically to contain the blaze, using multiple hoses on the burning house as well as soaking the structures on either side in an effort to keep the fire from spreading. Additional emergency vehicles were arriving even as she watched, but it was looking like a lost cause.
She realized the paramedic was speaking to her again.
“...if that’s all right.”
She shook her head, focusing her attention back on him.
“I’m sorry, I missed that.”
He watched her carefully as he repeated himself, saying, “I’m sure the police will want to hear what you have to say. Why don’t you just wait here for a few minutes, if that’s all right with you?”
Annja nodded. “Sure. Sure, I’ll wait.”
The paramedic moved off to tend to some firefighters who had gotten too close to the flames, leaving Annja to watch the scene from the back of the ambulance. She looked on, still shocked by the sudden turn of events.
There was no longer any question of backing down. They—whoever they were—had killed a cop to keep their secret safe, and that meant they would stop at nothing to prevent the information Novack had collected from coming to light. It must be obvious that Annja was working with Novack—the files had been in her hotel room after all—which meant the killers would be gunning for her next.
To prevent that, she needed to go on the offensi
ve.
It wasn’t going to be easy, though, since she had no idea who she was looking for.
The cops had arrived and were forcing the spectators back, away from the property and out of reach of the flames and heat. As Annja watched them, movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a dark sedan park a short distance away.
Something about the car was familiar, but she didn’t recognize it until the driver got out.
It was Tamás.
At the sight of him, Annja’s breath caught in her throat.
Her thoughts whirled.
Who had been involved in this investigation from the very start?
Tamás.
Who had known she was talking to Novack?
Tamás.
Who had tried to discredit the former detective in her eyes, to gently nudge her away from partnering with the man?
Yep, that’s right. Tamás.
She felt a cold chill run up her spine, and she turned away so he wouldn’t see her face.
Tamás had been Novack’s superior officer. Tamás had been one of those recommending Novack’s retirement. And Tamás had been assigned to the Vass case when she’d been brought into the hospital.
Metaphorically speaking, Tamás’s fingerprints were all over this mess.
Could he be the one? Could he be the killer?
Annja didn’t know.
But one thing, at least, was clear. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the man until she had an answer.
She pulled the blanket closer around herself to help hide her features as she watched him hustle over to the scene commander and begin asking questions. Annja waited until Tamás’s back was to her, and then quickly glanced around.
No one seemed to be looking in her direction.
Easy now, nice and slow. Don’t call attention to yourself.
The ambulance was parked next to a large tree, and Annja used that to her advantage, slipping around the side of the vehicle and into the shadows cast by the branches. As soon as she was out of sight, the truck now between her and Tamás, she began walking at a brisk pace away from the scene. She was tense, expecting to hear a shout and find someone chasing after her, but she kept walking, and when she reached the end of the cul-de-sac and pursuit hadn’t materialized, she began to breathe easier. Annja took the first turn she came to, headed deeper into the neighborhood and away from the main thoroughfare where there were sure to be additional police vehicles on the way.