“There’s a gentleman here to see her. Err — just a second, please. Your name, sir?”
“Donnie Elder.”
“Company?”
“Arcane Transport.”
“I’m sorry?”
I started to repeat myself, then gave in and spelled it out for her. She then repeated the information into the headset, though she referred to me as Don, rather than Donnie. For some reason people think that is more professional. I find that absurd and a bit pompous. Johnny Cash, Andy Warhol, Gordie Howe. They were all okay in my book. Though Warhol was a bit of a freak.
“They’re checking to see if Ms. Legenko is available to see you.”
I said nothing, trying to keep eye contact without allowing Mr. Mole to distract me.
“Hello? Oh! Yes, yes ma’am. Right away.”
“That was Ms. Legenko. She says you’re to go on up to the fourth floor. I’ll need you to sign our guest book, and wear this visitor tag.”
I printed my name and the company name deliberately in the sign-in book. Kind of old-fashioned, but what the hell. The name tag she gave me was far from old-fashioned, though. I looped the cord around my neck, letting the tag hang in front of my chest. Blue with a large red stripe which I took as the “I am a Stranger” warning. Of more interest was the label I had seen on the back-side of the tag. An active RFID device. I wasn’t going anywhere in this building without someone knowing about it.
I could see from ground level that a staircase ran from the mezzanine up to the second floor, and presumably beyond. However, I could also see that in the same general vicinity there was a pair of elevators, one with its door wide open in invitation to me. Despite the obvious allure of staggering up eighty or more steps to arrive sweaty and disgruntled at the fourth floor, I chose to instead travel in comfort. Fact is, I would arrive disgruntled either way.
The elevators, and the staircase for that matter, opened onto a small reception area on the fourth floor. A Louis XVI reception desk with a simple chair and phone sat before me, unoccupied. Beyond the desk, I could see most of the floor.
This was clearly the executive level. The outer wall was all offices, the open cube approach not being acceptable for Maxim Legenko, et al. Most of the offices had glass walls, though, and were still very visible, except for one large expanse on the South Wall where the glass was a milky white opaque. Based on the apparent size of the space and the carriage of the assistant seated at a desk before it, I assumed that was either Maxim’s office, or Elena’s. I was interested to find out who had greater sway.
All of the other offices were guarded by desks, each occupied by a young man or woman intently typing, reading or speaking into a headset.
A Joe College-type in Hugo Boss stood from one of the desks and headed my way as I emerged from the elevator.
“Mr. Elder?”
I nodded.
“Elena will see you now. Can I get you a coffee or water?”
“No thanks.”
“OK. Right this way.”
He led me to one of the corner doorways, which appeared to be a small boardroom. One or two of the assistants glanced up at my passage, but most seemed uninterested.
Joe College arrived at the door ahead of me, and did a good job of shielding my view.
I heard a brief exchange.
“Ms. Legenko? Mr. Elder is here.”
“Yes, show him in. And give us some privacy, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Then Joe College leaned into the room, as though to adjust the lighting. It was far more interesting than that, however. Instead, the glass windows became tinted, then opaque.
Cool. I had seen this on some TV show. Liquid crystal privacy glass. Flip a switch and it runs a current through special layers in the glass, changing it from transparent to opaque. Looked like it might even have a dimmer switch that allowed you to pick a level of opacity. My inner geek was thrilled.
Joe College gestured for me to enter the room and I slid past him, the door closing at my back.
The centerpiece of the room was a massive oval table with an inlaid image of what appeared to be the Zodiac, though I didn’t recognize any of the signs. A vague warning signal began sounding in the back of my mind, though I couldn’t figure out why.
In one of the chairs slouched Maxim Legenko, a look of complete disinterest on his face. So much for being on leave.
This was my first time seeing him up close and personal, and the one thing that stood out for me was angles. Angles and edges. Even his Adam’s apple seemed about to burst through the skin at his throat.
Standing at the windows and staring at the view of downtown Toronto was Elena Legenko. Impressive on TV, she was stunning in person. Alabaster skin so white as to seem bleached, in stark contrast to raven black hair and blood red lips. Her eyes were dark, the irises seeming black as though her pupils were fully dilated. She wore a simple black dress that ended just above the knee, and stilettos a good inch higher than seemed appropriate for an office.
“Mr. Elder, is it?”
She had no accent, which surprised me since she exuded “mysterious Eastern European lady”. Maybe she had learned to hide it during her modeling career.
I nodded.
“Please, take a seat.”
I pulled the chair out that she had gestured to, and sat.
As we stared at one another, Maxim tooled around on a cellphone that seemed to have captured all of his attention.
“I understand you have come here to speak to me about my husband and Niki Kuzmenko.”
I’m pretty sure I heard a snide undertone when she said “my husband”. Interesting.
“Yup. I’m trying to understand why Niki robbed me at gunpoint a few weeks ago. It seems to have encouraged a rash of these things.”
That caught her attention. In contrast, Maxim seemed to hunch down even further over his cellphone, typing out some text message with his thumbs.
“Maxim?”
“Hm?” He looked up as though noticing where he was for the first time. His eyes darted from her, to me, and back.
“What has Niki been up to?”
“I don’t know. I am not his keeper.” Maxim’s voice was heavily accented, the difference from Elena’s cultured tones almost comical. “Niki does as he wishes. But this sounds like bullshit.” He stared me down on that last sentence, as though daring me to disagree.
I happily complied.
“Oh, it’s no bullshit. He robbed me at gunpoint, and I think you know it. A guy like that doesn’t come up with the idea to rob a specialty courier on his own.”
“Specialty courier?”
I turned to Elena, focusing my attention on her.
“Our customers deal in non-traditional goods.” Christ, how to explain what we do without sounding like a lunatic. “Antiques, artifacts, objects with purported magic or occult properties.”
“Occult?” I expected her to give me a look of disbelief, or maybe call Joe College to have Security escort me from the premises. What I didn’t expect was for her to scowl at her hubby. That I didn’t expect at all.
They both recovered quickly. So quickly, it made me wonder whether I had imagined that look.
“I don’t know you, Donnie Elder.” Maxim said this with a bit of a sneer, apparently having found his tongue. “I don’t know your business, and I don’t care to. Maybe Niki robbed you, maybe not. It is none of my business. If it bothers you, take it up with him.”
“Oh, I intend to.” I shoved back from the table, seeing from the expression on both of their faces that I was being stonewalled. “I’ll be talking to Mr. Kuzmenko. You can let him know, if you want. This is far from over.”
Elena’s attention had wandered from me, and she was staring at the back of her husband’s head, a distinct look of displeasure writ large. Maxim was oblivious though, having switched into cocky bastard mode.