Secrets of the Dead (24 page)

“Are you all right?” Alarm showed in Macy’s expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What does the last one say?”

Swallowing, Eve reread the missive. The translation remained the same. “Apparently Pascal didn’t respond, because she contacted him again yesterday.
‘Tell Rizqi I found his missing son. For a half a million dollars I will deliver him, with DNA proof of their relationship.’
Feeling slightly frantic, she shuffled through the papers again, although she already knew she’d seen everything that was there. “There were two attachments to that one.” Shoving away from the table she turned toward the door. “We have to alert them in the technology lab. They have to recover those attachments.”

“All right.” A flush of excitement flagged the other woman’s cheeks as she led Eve down the maze of hallways to the lab. “But something tells me you already have an idea of what might be in them.”

“I’m hoping I’m wrong.” But even as she uttered the words she knew she wasn’t. Because Eve was already as positive that at least one attachment would be a photo of Royce Raiker.

_______

“It’d be easier
to find a dime at the bottom of a mineshaft. A twig in a forest. A proverbial needle in a haystack.”

Kellan Burke’s analogies weren’t far off from the reality, Declan admitted silently. The man had been at this task longer than he had, going to apartment buildings all day, working a circular grid outward from the Latifma Hotel. Every hour they conferred with the liaison for the DCPD canvas charged with the same job. The liaison had changed two hours ago, because the officers went off shift after eight hours. For Declan and Kell, there seemed no end in sight.

“I’ve been keeping track.” They trudged up the steps of an apartment building that could have been a twin for the one Declan and Eve had stayed in, down to the non-existent security and broken lock on the front door. The faded red brick façade was in dire need of tuck-pointing repair and the cement stoop had a decided list to one side. “Wanna know how many of these shitholes I’ve visited today?”

“Not really.” Because there was nothing keeping them out, Declan pulled open the front door to walk into the dingy foyer.

“Forty-seven.” Burke crowded in behind him, probably anxious to get out of the cold. The temperatures that day had been a relatively balmy thirty degrees, but they’d dropped in the last hour.

“What part of not really did you not understand?” There was no sign to point them in the direction of the landlord. Declan figured the place had to have one, though. Somehow all these apartments got rented, proving there was never any shortage of desperate people. He went to the first door on the right, just inside the hall, figuring it was as good a place as any to start.

“We’re three miles out from the hotel. Almost exactly. That’s a ways to walk. He could take a bus, though,” Burke countered his own statement. “Probably does. But he’d catch one a few blocks from the hotel. He wouldn’t want anyone to wonder where he was going and follow him.”

Finally seeing a small doorbell that had been painted the same color as the door and jamb, Declan tried ringing it. Heard someone moving around inside. Still it was several moments before the door pulled open a crack, with one bifocaled eye pressed against the opening. “Come back during day.”

“We just want to ask you a question, ma’am,” Declan said smoothly, reaching into his pocket for the photo of Malsovic they’d been showing all day. He unfolded it, held close to the door. “Are you the landlord? We’re looking for this man.”

He saw the fear that flashed in her gaze. “No. Do not know him.” The door shut quickly.

The two men looked at each other. In silent agreement, Declan pounded on the door again. “Ma’am, we’d like to ask you a couple questions.”

“Go away!” The woman’s tone was fierce. “I will call police!”

“
We
will call the police,” Kellan put in. “And you can answer their questions instead. But we’re not leaving until you open that door.”

“What are you doing, harassing my mother?” A middle-aged stocky man pushed through the front door, a scowl on his face, which was reddened from the cold. “Get the hell out of here before I kick both your asses.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Declan invited politely. A serious brawl might be just the thing to wear off this edge of irritation that had increased with each place they’d failed to find Malsovic. “But if your mother is the landlord, we need to talk to her about someone. She said she didn’t know this man.” He held out the picture again. “I think she’s lying.”

The truculence fading from his expression, the newcomer reached out and took the photo. “Yeah, she knows him. Sergei Peterol. Son of a bitch. Been here years, since before we ever took this job. I’m the landlord,” he admitted. “She takes the calls all day. Collects the rent. I take care of the repairs after work.” From the looks of the place the repairs the man did were few and far between. Coolly he looked them both up and down. “You cops?”

“Working with cops.” Kellan had already turned half away to text the DCPD liaison. “Do you know if this man is here now?”

As answer, the newcomer reached out and hammered on his mother’s door.
“Nene!”
He released a spate of words in a foreign tongue that had Declan wishing Eve were here for translation. The older woman opened the door again, shouted back at him in the same language. They argued. Whatever the woman was saying, she was quite emphatic. After several moments of squabbling the man threw up his hands and turned to them as the woman slammed the door again. “She is frightened of Peterol. I am not. He is a common thug. A criminal probably. But she worries if we talk about him he will take vengeance.”

“The cops will be here within the hour with a warrant,” Kell put in. Declan hoped like hell the man was right. He knew warrants could take far longer. “Peterol is wanted for questioning in two attempted murder charges. You don’t want to get in the middle of that.”

Apparently Burke was right. “Room 406. He isn’t here often. Sometimes we don’t see him for weeks at a time. But he was here last night, with a friend. I don’t know if he is at home now. You can go see. If not, when you have a warrant, I am across the hall. Michael Vrioni.” He brushed past them to go to his apartment. Unlocked it and went inside.

Declan and Kell looked at each other. Then without a word they headed for the stairs. The building seemed to grow shabbier with each floor they passed. When they reached 406, Declan pressed an ear against the door. Heard nothing. He banged on it, already knowing the place was empty. Without a word they fanned out to the doors flanking Malsovic’s, and knocked. It was Kell who hit pay dirt.

The boy who pulled the door open was no more than five. He stood there surveying them silently with solemn brown eyes. “Is your mother home?”

At Kell’s question he screeched, “Mama!” without turning his head. A young woman hurried into the room. “Jaden, how many times do I have to tell you not to open the door to strangers?”

“How do I know they’re strangers if I don’t open the door?” the boy asked reasonably. The woman was holding another child, not more than two, who looked like he’d be a carbon copy of the older boy still staring at them.

“Ma’am, do you recognize this man?”

She peered at the photo Declan held out, made a grimace of recognition. “He lives in the next apartment. He is a pig. The kind of pig who thinks women are nothing, you know? But he is not here much. And when he is, at least he is quiet. I never hear a TV or music coming from there.”

“We understand he was here last night.”

She nodded with enough enthusiasm to have the topknot she’d pulled her hair into shifting precariously. “Him. And another man too. Taller with a dark beard. First they were here. Then they left. They came back very late last night. I heard them talking when I was up with this one.” She jerked her head toward the child she held. “Then this afternoon, they left again. He has not come back.”

Declan felt his earlier adrenaline fading. “You’ve been here all day?”

“Where am I going to go, hauling two kids around? Yeah, I was here all day. I’m here most days. It’s my own little piece of paradise.”

Kellan asked other questions but it was plain the woman had told them all she knew. As they went to the door Declan found himself hoping the search warrant would arrive with record speed.

Whatever else they found inside 406, it was a sure bet they weren’t going to find Malsovic. But they might find a clue about where he’d gone next.

_______

“Time for bed.”

“Ten more minutes,” Royce wheedled his mother, never taking his eyes off the video game. “We’re only in the fifth of our seven game series. If I win this one I beat Rick.”

“That’s what you think, oh short one.” Rick Sorenson was bent over the controllers, his gaze as avid as the boy’s. “I have my best batters in the lineup next round, and you’re not doing so hot against Valenzuela’s curve…oh!”

“Eat your words, Sorenson,” the boy chortled as his onscreen player got two RBIs on a double. “Your pitcher’s so tired he’s throwing meatballs. I knew his arm would never last…no, Mom, don’t turn it off!” Royce paused the game. Looked at his mother’s face and sighed. “At least give me a chance to save it so we can continue tomorrow.”

Rick Sorenson straightened and picked up his water bottle, tapped it against Royce’s in a light toast before downing the rest of it. “You’re a good strategist. I’m going to spend the rest of the night figuring out how to outwit you.”

Much to Sorenson’s satisfaction, the boy guzzled the rest of his water, too. “You can try. But I’m a master at this game.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The man rose lazily as Royce said, “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

“Not yet, but it will be by the time you’re done dragging your feet and get in bed.” The two started from the room.

“Look at it this way,” Sorenson called out as he picked up the controllers and put them in the basket beneath the game system. “You stayed up a half hour later than your grandma.” The old lady had turned in early, citing exhaustion. He was the one who should be complaining about exhaustion. Ten hours of Patricia Marlowe ordering him around had been enough to have him reconsidering his agreement for this job.

But yeah, when she was asleep the thought of the five thousand Sergei had paid him was more than enough to convince him the next couple days would be worth it.

He picked up the TV remote and dropped into a leather chair. Clicked the television on. This place was sweet. Like a mansion on a movie set. He hadn’t been through the whole thing. Likely wouldn’t get the chance. During the day he’d stayed close to the old lady’s side. But his stint here would be short. When it was over he’d go home only long enough to pack before buying a plane ticket to San Diego. Settling on a Bulls game, he kicked back in the recliner and prepared to relax.

This gig wasn’t so tough. Slipping that device into the lining of one of the old lady’s bags had been a piece of cake. Dropping the tablet Sergei had given him into the kid’s water bottle had required a bit more sleight of hand. The place was brimming with security. Every time he turned around it seemed like a guard was standing there. Or the mother.

“I thought Jaid would be in here.”

Rick looked up, then brought the recliner upright in a single rapid motion. “No, sir. She’s putting Royce to bed.”

“Ah.” The guy looked at his watch. “I lost track of time.” He nodded toward the TV, which had cut to a commercial break. “Is that the Bulls game? What’s the score?”

“Heat’s up by six, thirty-five twenty-nine. But it’s not even mid-way through the first half.”

The man gave him something that might pass for a smile. “Maybe I’ll be able to catch the end of it.” He withdrew from the room, maybe going after his wife and kid and Sorenson breathed a little easier. The guards were bad enough, but this guy was spooky, with that eye patch and those scars and that voice. He looked like he’d been through a war. The truth was, the guy creeped him out, even more than Sergei did, and Sergei put out some serious dangerous vibes of his own.

The game came back on but Rick was too distracted to pay much attention to it. Just a couple more things to do and he’d be free and clear. Taking that device out of the old woman’s luggage and getting rid of it would be first on the list. Rick didn’t know a reason in the world why he couldn’t just flush the thing. It was small enough.

He was in and out of the old lady’s room all the time, so that wouldn’t be a problem. He’d filched the pill bottle he’d stuck with her things while she was getting ready for bed. Took out the two capsules he’d carefully buried in her medication. If this thing weren’t going down tonight, he’d need to get his hands on the woman’s cell phone, so he could send Sergei a message.

His nerves jittered, and he longed for a joint to settle them. Just another day or two, he promised himself, focusing on the TV screen. This would all be over and he’d be on a beach. Was it warm enough in California to go to the beach in the winter? If it wasn’t, maybe he’d head to Mexico. Plenty of opportunities there for an enterprising guy.

The Bulls had pulled within two when he heard a scream from several rooms away. “Royce!”

Rick came upright in his chair, adrenaline spiking as he ran in the direction of the voice. No need to sneak into the old lady’s room for that phone call.

This was going down tonight.

Rick came to the fringe of the circle of people surrounding the kid on the floor. Shit, it looked like the real thing. The boy was on the floor shaking violently, his eyes rolling in the back of his head, drool coming from his mouth. Whatever Sergei had given him to slip in the kid’s water had either really given him a seizure or stimulated a damn good imitation.

Belatedly remembering the pretense he was engaged in, he shouldered through the security guards to where Raiker and his wife were kneeling on the floor next to the boy. “Roll him to his side,” Rick said, but the woman was already doing so. “Lift up his chin.” He squatted and raised the boy’s chin slightly. “It will help his breathing.” He looked at Raiker. Almost quelled under the ferocious expression on the man’s face. “How long has this been going on?”