“No. None. The other driver was drunk. He overtook a truck out on the thirty-five and hit the Parkers head-on. There were no survivors,” Chief Wilson replied. “What’s this about?”
“We’re investigating the death of Karl Parker,” I said.
“The New York Stock Exchange shooting? I saw that,” Chief Wilson remarked. “That’s odd. Is he related to them?”
I felt the hairs on my neck rise. That wasn’t a question I’d expected. Something wasn’t right.
“He’s their child,” I said. “His parents were Ken and Delores Parker.”
“That’s impossible,” Chief Wilson replied. “Their son was in the back of the car when it was hit. Karl Parker died at the scene of the crash with his parents.”
Chapter 75
I staggered into the dining hall, stunned by my conversation with Chief Wilson. I clutched the childhood photos of Karl Parker tightly, as though holding them might keep me connected to a past I now knew to be a lie. Nothing about my old friend’s life was real. Everything he’d ever told me about his time before the Marines was false.
I found myself at Leonid and Dinara’s table, and dropped the photos, which scattered like leaves falling from a tree.
“What’s the matter?” Dinara asked.
“I just spoke to the chief of police of Karl Parker’s home town,” I replied. “The real Karl Parker died in a car crash with his parents. It seems the man I knew stole the dead child’s identity.”
Saying it out loud somehow made it even more real. I sat down, propped my elbows on the table and put my head in my hands.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Dinara offered.
I glanced at her and Leonid, who offered a sympathetic nod.
“I thought I knew Karl,” I said. “The guy trained me. We were friends.”
“You think his wife knew?” Leonid asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I don’t think so.”
“Prizrak,” Leonid said to Dinara.
I looked at her for an explanation.
“Ghost,” she said. “It’s another word for a sleeper. A deep-cover agent.”
I was reeling and refused to accept the possibility. “Karl — the man I knew — he served his country with distinction. He was no traitor.”
Leonid’s phone rang, and he stepped away from the table to take the call.
“How are you feeling?” Dinara asked.
I looked at her clear, penetrating eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know. I came here and risked everything for a friend. And now it turns out I never knew him at all.”
“I don’t think we can ever truly conceal what we are,” Dinara said. “Even when we’re deep under cover, I think our true character shines through.”
I took little comfort from her words. A man prepared to lie big was certainly willing to lie small. All his interactions, every moment, everything he was and everything he stood for was all an illusion. Nothing he’d ever done was beyond question.
“Can you email Justine?” I asked. “Let her know what the chief told me. I can’t face explaining it again.”
I slapped the tabletop in frustration. “I feel like a fool!” I exclaimed, drawing the attention of a handful of people lingering over their late lunches. “The head of the world’s best detective agency couldn’t figure out his own friend was a fraud.”
“Assuming he was, he will have been trained by the very best,” Dinara said. “I’ll let Justine know. And Jack...” She hesitated. “You weren’t looking for it. That’s why you didn’t see the lie. He was your friend and teacher, and you trusted him.”
Leonid returned before I could answer.
“That was Anna Bolshova. She says she’s got something for me. She wants to meet.”
“When?” Dinara asked.
“Thirty minutes, the Arts Park, by the river,” Leonid replied.
“Want some company?” she asked.
Leonid shrugged. “Sure.”
“Jack?” Dinara asked.
“I’m going to stay here,” I replied. “See if I can figure out when the man I knew took over the real Karl Parker’s identity.”
“OK,” Leonid said. “Hopefully we’ll bring you back something useful.”
Dinara got to her feet and followed the grizzled former detective out. I sat staring at the remains of their meals for a few moments, before I shook off my self-pity and headed back to the library.
Chapter 76
An old woman stood by the frozen edges of the river and tossed crumbs across the ice. A solitary robin flitted from spot to spot, pecking at the bounty, and the old woman chatted to the little bird as though it was a friend.
Dinara watched her, and wondered at her story. What kind of life had led her to this small park, where she sought the company of birds? Leonid shuffled on the spot and rubbed his gloved hands together before pushing them into his coat pockets.
It was only 3:45 p.m., but it was already gloomy. Heavy clouds had hung over the city for the past few days, threatening snow, but they were yet to deliver. They seemed to get lower and darker with each passing moment, and even though this winter had already seen more than enough snow to last a lifetime, Dinara wished they would shed their load and get the inevitable storm over with.
“She’s late,” Leonid observed, checking his watch.
Dinara caught sight of Anna Bolshova the moment the words had left Leonid’s mouth. She was hurrying along the wide boulevard that ran alongside the roadway that led to Krymsky Bridge. She wore her police uniform and standard-issue long winter coat. The boulevard had been cleared of snow, but the park itself was buried. Dinara and Leonid stood where the boulevard met the embankment, near the bridge. The only other person around was the old woman feeding the friendly robin. High to Dinara’s right, traffic rumbled over the bridge. To her left, the long pavilion, which usually housed hundreds of paintings by local artists, was empty. Robbed of vital people and civilizing artwork, the Muzeon Park of Arts seemed a desolate, foreboding place. The Interior Ministry stood approximately half a kilometer to the east, along Krymsky Bank, and Dinara was glad Anna hadn’t arranged to meet any closer to the department.
“Sorry,” the detective said as she drew near. “I was called in for another corrective meeting.”
Dinara was puzzled.
“It’s boss-speak for a reprimand,” Leonid explained. “Dressed up as advice to help you improve your performance.”
“What the hell are you people into?” Anna asked, glancing around the park.
Leonid shrugged, and Dinara couldn’t think of a good way to answer the question.
“That base,” Anna went on. “I made a couple of calls and I was told that it never existed. So I called a friend in Army Intelligence and he said I was playing with fire.”
“Did he say anything else?” Dinara asked.
“Are you kidding? He was terrified even talking to me,” Anna replied.
Leonid shook his head with resignation. Dinara knew what he was thinking. They’d hit a dead end.
“Give me the name,” Anna said. “I did as much as I could. Keep your side of the deal, Boykov.”
He sighed. “OK,” he conceded. “The Black Hundreds recruiter is a man called Erik Utkin. He runs a group out of a gym called Grom Boxing. It’s where Spartak Zima trains.”
Anna whistled.
“The fighters are dealing for him,” Leonid continued. “We’ve been conducting surveillance on them. I’ve asked my team to send you everything we’ve got.”
“Really?” Anna asked.
Leonid nodded.
“Your team? I thought you two are all there is,” Anna said. “And your American boss of course.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Leonid advised her.
Dinara was surprised when Anna stepped forward and embraced Leonid.