Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2 (36 page)

“You left some in the refrigerator in the apartment.”

“The apartment had to look lived-in.” He reached down. At his feet were two books: the ledger, and the book of
Montaigne’s Essays
she had given Moira Simmons. “I thought you might like these back, as mementos.”

“I have a copy of the ledger at the hotel.”

He nodded and put the ledger back on the floor. He kept the book of essays. “As you wish.”

She thought of the other killings. “Who killed Foch in the house in Alsace?”

“He was on her side; a terrible mistake on his part.”

“The body had a finger cut off. Why was the body transported to the UN building?”

“He had worn his wedding ring on that finger. The building was where she worked. All warnings.”

“Tutungian in Strasbourg?”

“He was a Simmons lapdog. A killer she liked to use. He was going to kill you. When Foch died, she panicked. She thought you might figure things out. So she pointed Tutungian in your direction.”

“You killed him?”

“The business with the ledger was not finished.” He thought about it. “Tutungian following you saved your life. It showed me that the loss of the ledger was creating havoc. It kept them off balance. While they were looking for it, they were paying no attention to anything else. To keep them distracted, your life had to be preserved so they would keep hunting for the ledger, and for you.”

He got up. “It’s time.”

Jana tensed, getting to her feet warily. “You haven’t told me why you killed Uncle Viktor.”

“It should be apparent. He mistreated a particular woman. He deserved his death.”

He took a step toward Jana.

She stepped back.

“Are you going to try to kill me now?”

“On the contrary: You are being given your life back.”

“It’s not like you to be so generous.”

“It is in appreciation for what you did for a friend. Indirectly, it was for me. You need not be afraid every time you hear footsteps behind you any longer. Be assured, it is over.”

He laid the Montaigne essays on a cocktail table in front of her, stepped back to let her pick it up, then indicated the door.

“You will have to go now.”

Jana took the book and went to the door. For the last time, Jana looked at Koba.

“I am still a police officer. I will continue to do my job. If I can, I will come for you.”

“Naturally. Those are the rules of the game.

“One more thing,” the man said. “Sasha sends her love to you and to her brother.”

Jana nodded, then left, walking quickly to the gate. When she reached the corner, she made a call to Inspector Vachon. By the time the police arrived, the house was totally engulfed in flames.

Of course, Koba was gone.

L
evitin drove Jana and her granddaughter to the airport. He had arranged with the Russian government representative to have the body of his uncle, the minister, shipped back, then decided to stay a few more days in the hopes of picking up a lead to his sister. So he had time to help Jana.

He maneuvered the vehicle cautiously through the French traffic jam. Jeremy and Katka’s deaths had put the fear of God in Levitin, softening the traditional Russian driver’s lead foot. He was now operating the car like a careful old man.

Before they started, Daniela had insisted on having a pillow to sit on so she could look out the window. Her mouth and nose, and the Raggedy Ann dolly’s mouth and nose, were pressed against the window as she pointed out objects on the street to it. Otherwise, it was quiet until Jana, at last, broke the silence.

“You won’t find your sister,” she told Levitin.

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” He swerved slightly to avoid a scooter traveling on the wrong side of the road. He was pleased he had avoided a crash. “I am getting better.”

“At what?”

“Avoiding being killed.”

“That is important.”

“I am sure I will find her, given enough time.”

“I hate to say this, but ‘No.’”

“Why ‘No’?”

“She has found him, he has found her, and the two of them don’t want to be found by anyone else. She has been very good at staying hidden before. With him helping, they will completely vanish.”

“Nobody just vanishes.”

“Yes, they do, all the time.”

“What do I tell my mother?”

Jana glanced at the back seat to make sure Daniela was all right, then shifted her attention back to Levitin.

“Tell your mother that your sister has found a new man who will take care of her, at least for a while.”

Levitin fell in behind an airport bus that was going slowly enough to satisfy him.

“Will he take care of her? Or will he kill her?”

“A short time ago, you told me that you have this little trick of remembering numbers.”

“Any and all combinations,” he acknowledged, a note of pride creeping into his voice. “They stick like good adhesive tape.”

“Is it a family trait? Your sister, does she also have this adhesive tape?”

“A family trait. Together, we used to do magic memory tricks for guests when we were younger. She’s even better at it than I am. Much better.”

They turned off the main boulevard, circling back to the road that led to the airport parking lot, then onto the road leading to the international terminal. The bus they had been following took a different path. No longer protected by his moving shield, Levitin drove even more cautiously, eyeing the passing cars with suspicion.

“She was Pavel’s bookkeeper,” Jana continued. “Only there was no book; there was no ‘ledger.’ Her mind was the book. That’s why everyone wanted her.”

“We have Koba’s ledger, the one you found in Slovakia.”

“No, that was a diversion. To keep them from looking for your sister. He wanted it found to keep everyone misdirected until he could locate her. She was the ledger.”

“And the ledger we have?”

“A fake. There is no code. There’s just organized garbage in the book to make anyone who looks at it think it’s real. Like you and me; like your uncle; like Moira Simmons; it fooled us all.”

Levitin took the news calmly, as if he had already had a surfeit of shocks and could no longer react.

He finally managed to park the car and let out a sigh.

“I thought Russians learned early on how to drive.”

“I just took you over a very dangerous route.” He put the gearshift into Park and put on the emergency brake. “Beautifully done.” He sat for a moment, relaxing. “The car wreck in Bratislava. Who killed the man and the prostitutes?”

“He was Koba’s manager. Hence, competition.”

He thought about this. “How do we know the man didn’t work for Moira? How do we know Koba didn’t kill him?”

“Moira Simmons asked that I be put on the UN committee because I was the primary officer investigating the killings in Slovakia. She wanted me close so she could follow the investigation. I also had the ledger. If she played it right, she thought, she could get it from me. She and Uncle Viktor finally got their ledgers. But not the real one: not your sister.”

They got out of the car. Jana unstrapped Daniela and picked her up, giving her a big kiss. The little girl clutched her dolly, sucking the thumb of her other hand. Levitin took the bags from the trunk, and they walked toward the terminal.

“Why didn’t
they
find the ledger?”

“I moved too quickly. Koba had placed it in the freezer. When it wasn’t found, he moved it to the couch.” Jana smiled ruefully. “It was too easy to find. After all, Seges, my generally incompetent aide, discovered it under the couch. That told the whole story. It was meant to be found.

“He knew they would discover that we had it. Grisko, the Ukrainian cop whose club was blown up, would pass on that information. He created a false trail, away from your sister, who is the real ledger.”

They walked into the terminal and saw Inspector Vachon waiting. The inspector walked up to Jana, giving her a kiss on each cheek.

“Good to see you.” He fell in with them as they went to the ticket check-in counter.

“You know, I thought of France as relatively crime-free before you arrived,” the inspector joked. “Your imports from Eastern Europe are very bad for a French police officer’s stomach.”

“Eat more Russian food,” suggested Levitin. “It will get you used to dealing with us.”

The inspector grimaced. “I will stick to my country’s cuisine.”

Jana set Daniela down, handing the ticket clerk her tickets and passports for the two of them. “Tell me about the burned house.”

The inspector gave her a very Nicean shrug. “One body. In the place you told us to look. Not much left.”

“Moira Simmons.”

“We found enough teeth to make an identification if and when we get her dental records. You say it was her, so I believe it was her. But we have to make it official.”

Jana waited impatiently. “And what else?”

“No other bodies, nothing. It was a hot fire. There are signs that incendiary materials were used to make it so. But there should have been other remains, some remnants, if there were more bodies. We’re still sifting the ashes, but I don’t think we will find Koba.”

“I was hoping.”

Levitin shook his head. “He is alive.”

“Yes,” Jana said.

“Somewhere,” added the inspector.

Depression and sorrow suddenly swept over Jana. Police training in dealing with tragedy went only so far.

“You have conducted a good investigation,” Vachon told her. “I am truly sorry about the other things that happened.”

Levitin touched Jana on her shoulder, trying to convey his own condolences.

She thought of her daughter. There would be no closure for them.

Jana picked up her granddaughter, hugging her tightly. The little girl’s warmth gave her comfort. She was an innocent, without the flaws of an adult. She was still without sin. A thought began to germinate in Jana’s mind: Maybe the other set of grandparents would let Jana see her more frequently; perhaps they’d let her come to Slovakia. A few months out of the year was not too bad, and Jana, after all,
was
her other grandparent.

Jana became aware of the check-in clerk asking her a question. The clerk had their passports open in front of her. She was asking Jana her relationship to the little one in her arms.

Without thinking, Jana answered, “My daughter.”

O
n the Dalmatian coast, about seventy-five kilometers north of the last island he had called home, the tanned man walked through a newly constructed house, admiring the craftsmanship. Everything had been done according to his requirements by the best workmen in the area. The rooms were spacious, the walls painted an egg-white. The sun splashed freely through the open space. The furniture was covered in soft pastels; the oriental rugs, from Qum and Khafkaz, spread their richness over the white tile floors.

He looked through the thick windows overlooking the sea. All were triple-glazed. It kept the cold out in the winter, a cold that swept in with frigid fingers that made it almost unlivable unless you were well insulated. The winds were due soon.

The man stepped closer to one of the windows, gazing down. Sasha lay on the rocks at the edge of the sea. She was already tanning. Comfortable in the sun, she was already at ease inside the house with him. Pavel had been right: She had been a treasure for Pavel, and she would be for him.

Sasha stood, looked up at him, and waved. He waved back. She rose and dove into the water, a perfect arc. She surfaced, and he saw the glistening drops of water on her arms as she stroked.

Yes, he thought. Thank you, Pavel. Thank you, Commander Matinova. Thank you, everyone, even the dead. They had brought the Siren of the Waters to him. All was right again in his world.