Art and Murder (29 page)

Paolo shut the lights off in the hotel room and they waited.

Thirty minutes later a man driving a Jeep drove slowly past the entrance of the hotel, obviously looking for a place to park. Minutes later he walked into the hotel with a suitcase, unaware that he was being photographed from above.

“How about I slip down to the lobby on the pretext of asking for a wake-up call or perhaps to look at a map of the city?” Paolo suggested.

“Go for it,” Laura said.

Minutes later Paolo returned. “His name is Yakov Kadnikov. He's built like a bear with a strong, thick neck.”

“A Russian bear,” Laura said musingly. “The killer was described as being stocky. How about his hands?”

“I'm not sure.” Paolo paused. “His skin is pale and the hair on his hands is black, but not as thick as I have seen on some men.”

“In daylight, against white skin, it may look more so,” Yves said.

“Did you get his room number?” Maurice asked.

“No, but I rode up with him in the elevator and he pushed the button for the fourth floor.” Paolo looked at Laura. “I will sleep here tonight and detail a surveillance team to be watching his Jeep by six o'clock tomorrow morning. Is there anything else you would like?”

Laura shook her head. “Let's call it a night and regroup at eight in the morning.”

“This time in my room at the Grand Excelsior,” volunteered Maurice.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Otto and Laura left, taking the stairs to the lobby, where they checked to ensure it was clear before heading out on the five-minute walk back to their hotel. So as not to jeopardize future surveillance possibilities, Maurice and Yves gave them a ten-minute lead to eliminate any chance of their being seen together. They used the elevator.

* * *

The thing about elevators is that the empty shaft between floors does little to block the sound of the voices of people waiting at the elevator doors.

Hearing French spoken in Italy was not uncommon, and that alone did not arouse the interest of the Ringmaster. What did arouse interest, when the elevator stopped on the second floor and two men stepped in, was the abrupt silence that followed.

The Ringmaster watched as one of the men self-consciously scratched his droopy moustache.
A moustache that twitches like a tarantula dancing on his lip.

When the elevator stopped in the lobby, Yakov smiled at Carina, gesturing with his hand. “After you.”

Jack awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing. He looked at his watch. It was 5:45 a.m. When Giuseppe emerged from the bathroom, he got up.

“Good, you're awake,” Giuseppe said in a hushed voice.

“I'm going to have a shower,” Jack whispered.

“When you're done, wake the others. I'll start making breakfast.”

Minutes later Jack adjusted the hot-water heater to high and turned on the shower, but stood outside the stall for a moment to let the water warm.

The window behind the toilet was open a crack, so he opened it further to look out. The snow from last night hadn't amounted to much more than a light covering. He watched Giuseppe refilling the generators as he thought,
The Ringmaster should arrive today. What will happen then? Will I be trusted?

Steam was billowing out from the shower stall as he stepped inside. He was just closing the shower curtain when he saw headlights through the window. Someone was arriving.
Did Giuseppe decide to have his brother-in-law bring the dogs?

A moment later Jack was rinsing shampoo out of his hair when the shower curtain was ripped open.

“You bastard!” Carina screamed. Her face was contorted with rage.

Jack's mouth gaped open as he took the scene in, or tried to. Giuseppe stood behind Carina and someone else was behind him. Then he saw the pistol in Carina's hand. Watched her raise it, as if in slow motion, and point it at his face, then pull the trigger.

* * *

The phone woke Laura from a sound sleep.

“There is a problem,” said Paolo sombrely. “My surveillance team discovered that Yakov's Jeep is gone.”

“Maybe he decided to get an early start.” Laura glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table.
Not quite six.

“A very early start,” Paolo replied. “It rained last night for about an hour, starting at two. The spot where the Jeep was parked is wet. He had to have left before then.”

“You're telling me he travelled all day yesterday, didn't book into the hotel until almost midnight, then took off within two hours?”

“Yes. It does not seem right.”

“No kidding it's not right!” Laura couldn't hide her fear. “What happened?”

“I don't know.”

“Something must have happened.”

“I called my men in Bianco and they are watching for the Jeep, but I think it would be past there already.”

“I'm calling Interpol to get whatever we can on Yakov. In the meantime, call the others and we'll meet in Maurice's room.”

“Will do,” said Paolo.

Laura hung up, then gave a start when the alarm clock rang. When she set the alarm, she'd thought the clock was charming. It was silver with a large, circular face and had a small silver handle mounted on top. She didn't view it as charming now.
Has time run out for Jack? If not, how much time do I have to save him?
Her hands fumbled in a failed attempt to shut off the alarm, and she didn't succeed until she mashed the clock into her pillow. Then she reached for her phone.

Interpol in Ottawa listened to her urgent request for whatever details they could immediately get on Yakov Kadnikov.

“You work with Corporal Jack Taggart,” said the woman from Interpol.

“Yes. How did —”

“I'm Constable Jane Martin. I was on duty the night the French police officer tried to warn him.” Her voice trembled as she asked, “Is there anything you can tell me about how that is going? Have the French arrested anyone?”

“Not yet. The information I'm seeking is in regard to that. Jack is missing again and things aren't looking good. Please get back to me as soon as you can.”

“It might take an hour or two,” Jane said. “I'll do my best.”

At seven o'clock, Laura arrived at Maurice's room at the same time as Paolo. Otto and Yves were already there, both grim-faced.

Maurice nervously scratched his moustache as he told how they'd gotten on the same elevator as Yakov and Carina when they left the hotel.

“You didn't think to tell me about it?” said Laura angrily.

“They've never seen me before and Maurice kept his distance from Kerin the day he was killed,” Yves explained. “I don't think the Russian leaving has anything to do with seeing us in the elevator.”

“Maybe they were leaving when you saw them,” Otto suggested.

“No, they weren't wearing coats,” Yves said. “I saw them heading into the bar as we left.”

Laura looked at Paolo. “Do we know if Carina is still at the hotel?”

“No.”

“Have someone call her room and then if she answers, pretend to be a wrong number,” said Laura. “If she doesn't answer, try again in a couple of minutes in case she's in the shower.”

Paolo reached for his phone and said, “I'll have someone check the restaurant, as well.”

Several minutes later Paolo was informed that Carina did not answer her phone and was not having breakfast.

Oh, man.
“I should be getting a call back from Interpol shortly about whatever they can find on Yakov,” Laura said. “This may turn into a long day. I suggest we get something to eat. We may have a long drive ahead of us. Depending on what we find out, I think we should get to Sant'Agata del Bianco and find someplace to watch the road.”

“And what do you hope to see?” Yves asked.

“If the bad guys drive out of there without Jack, we'll know he's dead.” Laura's tone was grave. “Otherwise, we need to sit there and wait until we hear from him.”

Yves and Maurice decided to remain in the room, while Laura, Otto, and Paolo went for breakfast at the hotel restaurant.

The coffee Laura drank only fuelled her already jittery nerves, and she could only eat one of the two pastries she'd ordered. Barely a word was spoken amongst the three of them until eight o'clock, when Laura received a call from Jane in Ottawa saying she had some information about Yakov.

“Give me a minute to get to a better location,” Laura said. Glancing at Otto and Paolo, she whispered, “Interpol. I'm going back to my room.”

“We'll pay the bill and meet you in Maurice's room,” Otto said.

As soon as Laura was back in her room she dug out her notebook and recorded what Jane told her, which was basically that Yakov was known to the police as a gangster and reputed to deal in stolen property and guns. He wasn't considered high enough in the criminal empire for the police to have made him a priority.

“Maybe if they'd worked on him, they'd discover otherwise,” said Laura cynically. “Anyway, thanks, I better —”

“Hold on. The report you requested from the police in Zurich concerning Carina Safstrom and her husband, Denzler Bussmann, just came in.”

“Yes, they were going to check with Germany. Bussmann died in a car accident there.”

“Apparently it wasn't an accident,” Jane said. “They believe it was suicide. No skid marks on the road and a good impression of the gas pedal on his shoe when he hit a bridge abutment.”

“Well, that's too bad, but —”

“Hang on, I'm still reading. The report contains information from the Swedish police, as well.”

“Carina Safstrom said she lived with her aunt and uncle in Stockholm for several years. I put in a request that they check their records, too.”

“Let me give you the gist of this,” Jane said. “Bussmann had fallen for some type of Ponzi scheme where he invested all his money and lost it in the scam. The guy who ripped Bussmann off took at least fifty-five other people for their life savings. He was a Swede. His name was Noah Akerman.”

“Was?”

“He was murdered in Sweden a year later,” Jane went on. “They had a suspect, but he was a well-known gangster who died of cancer shortly after.” Jane's voice rose in pitch. “Guess who the gangster was!”

“I don't —”

“Carina's uncle! He ran a criminal network that spanned most of Europe.”

Laura felt like her brain had been put on spin dry.
Carina took over the family business.

“There's more,” Jane said. “The Swedish police pulled a newspaper clip on Bussmann's funeral in Stockholm to try and identify people who attended. A newspaper photograph confirmed that the aunt and uncle were there for it.”

“It was in the newspaper?”

“Yes, it looks like Bussmann was a popular person in the community. He belonged to something called Clowns Without Borders and performed at many hospitals, schools, and retirement homes.”

Seconds later Laura was on her way out the door.

* * *

While waiting in Maurice's room for Laura to return, Otto, Maurice, and Yves speculated on whether or not Yakov was the Ringmaster.

“Black, collar-length hair, stocky, hairy hands,” Otto said. “That was all?” He looked at Maurice. “Nothing else?”

“No. I have a copy of the witness report in my briefcase and will read it to you.” He pulled out a document. “It's in French, but I will translate.”

Otto glanced at the report and saw that it was a copy of a handwritten statement written in French and signed at the bottom. He did not read French, but there was something he did see. “The name at the bottom of the report,” he said, pointing to it. “Maria Popescu, with what looks like a date of birth and passport number underneath it.”

“Yes, that is the witness who saw the killer run away,” replied Maurice.

“Maria Popescu is Romanian,” said Otto.

“Yes, so was her passport.”

“Do you have a list of the five Romanian passports that were stolen?” asked Otto. “The ones Jack found hidden with the drugs and the painting?”

Maurice's eyes revealed his concern, then he tore through his briefcase and pulled out a file and compared the numbers of the stolen passports in Jack's report to the passport number of the witness. He looked dumbfounded. “Maria Popescu was using one of the stolen passports.” He stared at Yves. “I remember seeing the witness in a patrol car being interviewed. She had long black hair, thick plastic glasses.”

“A disguise that included a wig,” Otto said. “I'm going to get Laura.”

* * *

Laura was about to knock on Maurice's door when Otto opened it in front of her.

“Carina is the Ringmaster!” she blurted.

“I know,” Otto replied.

Laura stared at Otto. At the moment she didn't care how Otto knew. Her thoughts were on what a psychopathic killer would do after being romantically betrayed.

Jack deflected Carina's arm with his forearm and the bullet shattered a tile on the wall behind him. At the same time he delivered his fist with a knuckle twisting finish to her face, smashing out her upper teeth and breaking her nose.

Fuelled by adrenalin, the blow was powerful enough to hurtle Carina backward like a rag doll into Giuseppe. The pistol flew from her hand, deflected off Yakov, and clattered across the floor all the way to the sleeping area, where it slid under a bunk.

Yakov rushed to pick it up, while screaming for Wolfgang, Roche, and Anton to get out of his way.

Jack took the only exit available, leaping onto the toilet, shoving the window all the way open, and diving naked onto the snow-covered ground. He scrambled to his feet, slipping in the snow, then dove behind the bunkhouse where he could not be seen. He looked at the darkened forest looming a short distance in front of him.
Darkness is my friend.

While the other men raced out the front door of the bunkhouse, Giuseppe sat Carina on the edge of a bunk and tipped her head back. He saw the gaping holes where her front teeth had been as blood poured from her broken nose and ran down the sides of her mouth.

“No,” she screamed, pushing him away. “I want him,” she spluttered as she got to her feet.

Outside, the sounds of yelling told them that Jack had made it into the forest.

“Don't worry,” Giuseppe said as he followed Carina outside. “There is no place for him to go. I'll get a flashlight.”

Moments later Giuseppe's flashlight picked up Jack's trail. It was easy to follow in the snow and revealed that he'd run to the chopping block before heading into the forest.

“He's got the hatchet,” said Wolfgang.

“Yes,” Yakov concurred with a snicker, “but maybe he doesn't know that you shouldn't bring an axe to a gunfight.”

“You think this is funny, Yakov?” Carina snarled.

“No, I'm sorry. I only mean that he will die. I have a pistol, and he has only —”

“Shh, listen,” Giuseppe said. “See if we can hear him. Please, everyone be quiet.”

The group stopped moving and stood silently at the edge of the forest.

* * *

In the forest Jack discovered that the ground around the base of some of the larger trees was bare of snow. His gut reaction told him to put as much distance as he could between himself and the people trying to kill him, but it was too dark to see. And twigs and branches, brittle from the cold, snapped too loudly for his location to go undetected.

He heard the voices of his pursuers and rather than run, he wondered about going on the offensive.
Yakov has the pistol. If I can get it.…
He circled back from the direction he came, trying to leap from one bare spot of ground to the next to hide his tracks, but skinned his ankle on a rock, leaving spots of blood, as well as footprints in various patches of snow. The people following him had quit talking and he knew they were listening.

Guess it's now or never.
He crouched behind a tree near the edge of the forest and waited. Soon he heard them talking again, in English, their words easily heard over the crisp mountain air. He had to grit his teeth to stop them from chattering, and his body was trembling.
Fear or cold?
Probably both.

A flashlight beam cut the darkness, following the tracks he'd left when he first entered the forest, but then the group stopped again and the flashlight danced around both sides of the tree he was hiding behind. He held his breath.
Shit … steam from my body, wet from the shower … will they see it?
The flashlight beam moved to another tree and he knew he'd been lucky this time.

“I … I think I need to sit down for a moment,” he heard Carina say in a shaky voice.

“I should get you to a doctor,” Giuseppe said. “There is one in Sant'Agata del Bianco.” Jack saw the flashlight beam skirt the trees again, then heard Giuseppe say, “It is foolish to try to find him in the dark. He could circle around or attack one of us from behind. We should wait until daybreak, which isn't far off. There's nowhere he can escape to, and he will be seen if he leaves the forest.”

“Are you sure?” asked Roche.

“Positive.” Giuseppe responded. “I will give you the rifles and the ammunition before I leave. If he comes out of the forest, he will be an easy target. I will also give you the keys to the quads. If he tries to run across the meadow, you can easily drive circles around him and shoot him whenever you felt like it.”

“I would enjoy that,” said Anton.

Jack heard Giuseppe address Carina again. “Let me take you to the doctor. We have time.”

“Okay, but I'm not staying there,” said Carina. “I want to be the one to put a bullet up his ass.” She paused. “Unlike Paris, a bullet to this bastard's head would be too kind.”

You rotten bitch.

“Once you see the doctor, I will stop at my brother-in-law's and get the dogs,” said Giuseppe. “If Jack hasn't died of the cold, he will wish he had once the pit bull grabs him by his balls. Then you can do to him whatever you wish.”

Jack unconsciously squeezed his legs tight together.
Maybe falling off a cliff into a rocky gorge would be a preferable way to die.

“Come.” Giuseppe urged. “If we leave now we will be back shortly after daybreak.”

Jack heard the group move away, but remained where he was for several minutes in case someone had stayed behind. The cold caused him to shake uncontrollably, and when he heard the truck start, he peeked around the tree. As Giuseppe and Carina drove away, he saw Wolfgang carrying the rifles into the kitchen, followed by Roche, Anton, and Yakov.

Jack stared at the bunkhouse. There wasn't a lock on the door and the bathroom window was still open. He wondered about trying to sneak in to get his clothes. The light in the bathroom had been left on, as well as an outside light over the bunkhouse door.
It could be risky.

However, he could see through the kitchen window that Wolfgang and Yakov were keeping vigil on the bunkhouse and could see the entrance, as well as the open bathroom window.
Scratch that idea.
He then focused his attention on the shed behind the kitchen. It was not visible to Wolfgang or Yakov.

Moments later he crept up to the back of the shed, then stayed close to the building as he made his way to the door, so that his footprints would not be so obvious. Once he reached the door, he glanced at the kitchen. A window overlooking the porch was open slightly and Roche and Anton were now making breakfast.

Jack opened the door to the shed. There were no windows and it was pitch-black inside. He hesitated, then decided that someone looking out from the bright light inside the kitchen may not see if the door to the shed was left cracked open, which he had to do if he were to see even a little.

He started to search the shed, just using his hands to feel. He felt along a workbench and found a toolbox. Inside was an assortment of screwdrivers, pliers, and some duct tape. He decided the hatchet he carried would make a better weapon than a screwdriver.

The duct tape. Do I wrap myself up like a mummy? Yeah, that ought to give them all a good laugh before they kill me. Not enough tape, regardless.

He continued his search, and any hope he had of finding an old pair of coveralls or boots vanished, but he did find a large burlap bag. He used the hatchet to tear holes in the bottom of the bag, then pulled it over his head like a sleeveless T-shirt that hung to his knees.
Talk about being half in the bag.

Next he wrapped some of the tape around his feet. He was about to leave the shed when he stumbled into a shop vacuum cleaner. To him, the noise of the collision was like a bomb exploding, and he peeked out the door to see if he'd been heard. Roche was cracking eggs into a frying pan and had not looked up. The sound of the generators had drowned out the noise.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, then a new plan formed in his mind. He unscrewed the hose from the vacuum cleaner. Taking it with him, as well as the hatchet and roll of duct tape, he crept onto the back porch, where he found the funnel Giuseppe had used to put gas into the generators.

The light from the kitchen window shone across the porch, but the area directly below the window was in shadow. He sat down and ripped off strips of duct tape to fasten the funnel to the hose. The cold had made his fingers feel like sticks of wood, as the blood in his limbs receded to protect his vital organs. He knew that hypothermia caused confusion in thinking and made for poor decision-making.
Hope this plan isn't a result of that.

He glanced at his feet, bound with tape.
I can't feel them. Did I wrap them too tight? How can I tell when I can't feel them?

The door beside him burst open and Roche stepped onto the porch, barely an arm's length away. Jack looked up at him and then at the hatchet he held between his knees.
Can I grab it in time? I feel so numb… I can't even feel it … what if it falls? The hose! He's almost stepping on it!

“Can you smell this, Jack?” Roche yelled at the forest. “We're having eggs and coffee!” He fanned the door a couple of times. “Sure is warm in here!” He laughed, then stepped back inside and closed the door.

Ten minutes later, mission accomplished, Jack crawled off the porch on his hands and knees, then stumbled back into the forest. Once there he got to a position where he could see Wolfgang and Yakov still sitting in the same spot, drinking coffee and eating while they watched the bunkhouse. Roche and Anton sat opposite each other at the adjacent table.

Jack glanced up at the sky and saw the sun briefly illuminate the top of a mountain peak before it clouded over.

How much time do I have? Will it be enough? Maybe I should try to do some exercises to stay warm. I feel so tired. Gotta stay on my feet or I will go to sleep … and never wake up.