Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2 (33 page)

“I can’t hear myself with your gabbling.”

“I didn’t ask you to listen.”

“How can I help it? You’re sitting next to me.”

“Okay, I’ll watch it,” he grumbled, shifting uneasily in his seat. The quiet lasted for a few seconds, then he said, “She was faking it.”

“Sasha?”

“Yes.”

“The cuts on her wrists were real.”

“But not deep.”

“Maybe it was a cry for help? People have all kinds of ways to signal. Some of the ways they choose are crazy. I’ve seen it before.”

Levitin shook his head adamantly. “Not her, not after that performance at the ball.”

“She wasn’t beaten by your uncle at the ball. He did it the next day. It could have affected her.”

“Yes,” he reluctantly allowed.

“Perhaps?” she reflected.

“Make up your mind,” he demanded.

“When I was slapping her to wake her up, my feeling was that she was not asleep.”

“So, maybe I’m right.”

“For her brother, you’re awfully unsure of yourself.”

“I’ve been wrong about her before.” He lapsed into silence. Then, in a slightly stronger voice: “I still think she was faking it.”

They watched the sea roll in, a last few hardy bathers being scattered by the tide. Jana got up, stepping to the iron railing on the concrete edge of the drop to the beach, leaning on it to watch the last of the sun go down. Levitin hesitated for a moment, than went over to stand next to her.

“Maybe you are right, Levitin.”

“What’s that mean?”

“The man in the corner of the room, the orderly. He had a tan.”

“He likes to sunbathe?” Levitin suggested. “The man has a sunlamp at home? Maybe he goes to tanning salons?”

“They’re all pasty-faced.”

“Doctors, nurses, interns, the whole lot?” He thought about it. “There’s always an oddball in the group.”

“With wing-tip shoes on?”

“The orderly had dress shoes on?”

“Yes.”

“My sister was faking it for the man in the corner?” He nodded. “She was putting on her performance at his instruction?”

“Yes.”

“A new face in the game; one not hired by those we’ve already met.”

“Maybe. At least not hired by them. There was no reason for her to put on that performance for them.”

“You think the man was Koba?”

“The only things we know about that man are the shoes he wore and that he was tanned.”

Levitin moved back to the bench and stood on it, then rotated slowly in a 360-degree arc until he faced Jana again.

“What are you doing, Levitin?”

He smiled down at her. “Getting a different perspective on things. It helps. The world looks different. Even colors change from the variation in the angle of the light. So you think differently. Join me.” He held out his hand for her.

Jana jumped up on the bench, turning the same 360 degrees that Levitin had rotated.

“Yes, different,” she agreed.

An old couple passing by, both with canes, stopped to look up at them, wondering if the two had joined a mutual insanity society, finally deciding they were not dangerous, and walked on.

“Let’s talk,” Jana suggested.

“We are talking.”

“From your different perspective.” Jana waved at the horizon. “Begin with the basic proposition that all the actors have taken the stage, and what we have to do is track back, using what we know of them, to verify the facts from our new perspective.”

“Good. Start.”

“Whether the orderly was or was not Koba, Koba wants us to stir the pot. Otherwise there is no reason to make even a brief appearance.”

“How is our stirring the pot going to help him?”

“He’s engaged in a war. He wants to make sure he has identified all the combatants and the sides they are on. Once he has, then he will take action.”

“With Koba, that means killing people.”

“Yes.”

They paused to watch a small fishing boat chug across the bay, rounding the spit of land leading to the small port that serves Nice.

“It’s got to be cold out there.”

“Cold, but peaceful.”

The boat disappeared around the point, a small wake all that was left. The sea birds were crying less, the city noise reduced to traffic and the occasional horn of an impatient driver.

Jana felt the night cold creeping in. “He knows who is against him. The more he baits the hook, the more the fish fight over it. Then, maybe they’ll become cannibals, eating each other.” She paused. “If they don’t chew each other up, he will. I think he only wants to know one thing for sure, now. The name of one person.”

“The Manager
,
the person who tried to kill him.” Levitin suggested. He too felt the evening cold, rubbing his hands.

“Maybe there is more than one Manager?”

“Perhaps. But your sister seemed to say there is only one. I think Koba thinks he knows who it is, but wants to be absolutely certain before he acts. I think he has an emotional reason for wanting this.”

“I don’t think Koba can be emotional.”

“Even the beasts in the forest feel emotion.”

Jana wished she had a sweater. The small gusts of wind coming off the water made their perch colder than the interior of the city. “We have to go.”

“Go where?”

“They all want the code book, and we’re in the middle. I think we should give them the book.”

Jana jumped down from the bench, Levitin following her lead, both of them walking to a crosswalk leading away from the sea.

“Your uncle thought Koba was dead.”

“Yes.”

“So he must know there was an attempt on Koba’s life.”

“By him or one of his associates, you think?”

“I think.”

“All we have to do now is find the Manager
.
”

“We will know soon.”

She took a last look at the bay, the water now turned from dark green to black. Jana thought about the water and how it looked in the daylight, a beautiful cobalt blue. “I can see why people like Nice. I could get used to living here when the sun is shining.”

They walked into town.

J
ana made the phone call, arranging a meeting, then had to persuade Levitin not to come with her or follow her. The Russian was adamant, and it took all of Jana’s bag of threats, tricks, temper, and determination to finally wear him down. Only after insisting that she call him every half hour after she got there so he’d know she was safe, did he agree to let her go alone.

Jana sat at a small table outside a café on Garibaldi Square. A heat lamp near the table gave off a welcoming halo of warmth. Jana was thankful for its comfort on this windy day. She placed the brown bag she was carrying on top of the table, then ordered a double espresso and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Moira Simmons arrived. A Rolls-Royce with a thin red stripe along its side let her off at the curb.

There were two men in the car, both of whom gave Jana hard stares while surveying the area before they parked a few doors down. Neither of them left Jana with any doubt as to his profession. Moira Simmons took her security seriously.

Moira walked over to Jana’s table, a smile on her face, and sat across from Jana, her eyes flicking to the bag, then coming back to Jana.

“I’m so glad you called me,” Moira gushed. “I wanted to talk to you about what happened with your daughter last night. It must have been a terrible experience for you. I thought I might be able to help.”

“That’s very nice of you, Moira. I should have listened and not made an attempt to speak with her. Jeremy had warned me.”

“We never think about being estranged from our children. It should never happen, but it does, over and over, for a whole dictionary full of reasons. I used to want children; then I saw how much trouble they got into in the world, and how much trouble their parents had either with them or trying to save them, so that I finally concluded, for me at least, that it was perhaps better that I never had any.”

“I understand.”

“So you agree: One should not have children.”

“No, I disagree. If one can, one should have children.”

“Even after what happened at the ball?”

“I still love my daughter. And, if I did not have a child, I would not have a grandchild.”

“You are content to leave it that way?”

“I haven’t given up. I just have to wait longer.”

“Forever, maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Moira hesitated. “Tell me how you got my phone number.”

“Foch’s address book. A legacy from his murder.”

“Ah, yes. He would have had it. Poor Foch.” She reflected on Foch for a very brief moment, then decided to come to the point of the meeting. “What do you want from me? You called me. Why?”

“I want to see Katka before I have to go back to Slovakia.”

“Are you going back soon?”

Jana sipped her coffee. “As soon as I see my grandchild, get to meet her, cuddle her a little, and tell her I love her.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“You want my help in arranging a meeting with your grandchild?”

“I have seen how convincing you have been in the past. You are close to Katka. I think you might persuade her.”

“And in return, what do I get? My payment?”

“My eternal thanks.”

Simmons’s face lost color, undergoing a transformation which changed the cast of her features to something bleak. She half-closed her eyes. “Nothing is free.”

“The truly valuable things are free.”

“Not so. Everything must be paid for, generally sooner than later.” She indicated the brown bag on the table. “What do we have here? Is this a present for me?”

Jana drew the moment out, letting Moira anticipate what might be in the brown package.

“You should have something to eat first. A coffee and perhaps a small pastry.”

“Is there a book in the bag?” Moira asked.

Jana pulled the brown bag closer to herself, resting her hand on it. “Maybe.”

“My question is serious. Don’t be coy, Matinova.”

“It seems to me that you have toyed with me.”

“Toyed? No. Everything I do has a reason. We all do what we need to for survival. I simply do it better than others.”

“Who is the real Moira Simmons?”

“Whoever you want to think she is.”

“When did you meet Koba?”

“Koba.” Simmons mulled the name over. “I have heard that name. He uses other names as well.” She looked at the brown bag. “I could have my people take the bag and its contents from you.”

“You think the ledger is inside the brown bag?” Jana stared back at Moira without blinking, letting the woman know she was not frightened.

“You are on a road to disaster, Commander.”

Jana let the words hang in the air before handing the paper bag over. Moira ripped the book from the bag and read the title on the cover. Then she opened the covers, riffling through the pages, becoming more and more agitated. With great effort, she quieted herself, gently laying the book on the table.

“
A volume of
Montaigne’s Essays.”

“He was a very wise man.”

“Not what I expected.”

“You want the ledger.”

“The account book, the ledger, whatever you want to call it.”

“A few questions have to be answered first, and then I need a favor.”

“It depends upon the questions, and the favor.”

“You say you have heard of Koba?”

“He is dead.”

“If you say so.”

“Some men I know killed him.”

“On your orders?”

Moira stared at her without answering. The silence was explicit enough to tell Jana what she wanted to know.

“Next question,” Moira prompted.

“Are you the Manager?”

“If you want to call me that. My friends do not.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

“A yes or no, whatever you make of it. Enough questions. What about the favor?”

“You already know it.”

“You want me to persuade your daughter to let you see your grandchild?” She relaxed, now in control. “Do you have the ledger?”

“I have it.”

Simmons took the torn bag that had contained the book of essays, writing an address on it.

“Call, and then deliver it to me.”

“You’ll have it . . . when you have persuaded my daughter to let me see my granddaughter, and it is confirmed to my satisfaction.”

Moira smiled, a show of teeth rather than an expression of cheer.

“I will expect the book.”

“Good.” Jana pushed the volume of essays toward her. “Please take this one in the meantime. A small gesture of good faith.”

Moira took the book, then rose from the table and walked to the Rolls. One of the men opened the door for her. She got in without looking back, and the car pulled away from the curb and out of the square.

Jana sipped her coffee. It had gotten cold. She laid down money for the bill, then walked to middle of the sidewalk and, glancing up and down the street, wondered where Koba was.

She saw no one she could identify as him. There were too many people about to single anyone out. But, as sure as the sun was in the sky, she knew Koba was there.

Jana walked out of the square.

A few minutes later, a tanned man seated in the café next to Jana’s got up from his table and casually sauntered away. He was content, if not happy. He knew who all his enemies were.

J
ana had a hard night. She could usually sleep when she was investigating even the most serious cases, but tonight there were too many nightmares. People were chasing her daughter, then her granddaughter, intent on hurting them. And Jana was tied by a wire leash, unable to help, her hands bloody from trying to work herself loose from the embedded wire, her mouth sealed by a metal strip, prevented even from screaming for help. She was glad when the bedside phone rang, freeing her from her half-sleep.