It occurred to him in that moment that he’d never seen her smile, something he attributed to her Russian upbringing in a strict household. He held the glass toward her. “An unexpected business matter. It shouldn’t take too long.”
She took the glass. “The weather’s lovely and the cityscape amazing. Take your time.”
He glanced out, trying to see it through her eyes. The fourth-floor patio commanded a view of the entire city, the soft lights accentuating the stars above. He far preferred the vista during the day when he could see the snowcapped Atlas Mountains in the distance. That at least reminded him of his homes in Germany and Austria — and where he hoped to get back to very soon, once this business was concluded.
He left her and returned inside, leaving the patio doors open. Gere had not moved from the entry. Like Rolfe, Gere was German, though at the moment he looked more like a local Moroccan, with his wavy dark hair and the long, loose-fitting gray-striped djellaba.
“What happened to you?” Rolfe asked, giving a pointed glance to the injuries on the man’s face.
“A run-in with someone that Durin met.”
“So you were able to follow him after all. What’d you find out?”
“It appears he was telling the truth. Zakaria is with an American couple and plans to take them out to the plane.”
Rolfe was careful not to show emotion. As one of the few people alive today who even knew what was really in that plane, he wasn’t about to let someone else possess what he believed was rightfully his. He’d first learned of the plane’s existence through his father, who’d learned about it through his. In fact, Rolfe’s father had spent most of his adult life searching for it, only to finally give up, declaring its existence to be mere legend. The truth was, the man had been possessed by the hunt, allowing it to consume his mind and his fortune. Rolfe was not about to let that happen. After rebuilding that fortune, he’d been far more careful than his father, putting out feelers, and, yes, pursuing a few false leads, but never letting the search take over his life. Though Rolfe had spent far more than he’d anticipated, he wasn’t about to end up like his father, broken and near penniless.
He glanced out toward the patio, saw that Tatiana was still absorbed in the view, then turned back to Gere. “This couple — you think they are somehow involved in looking for this plane?”
“We suspect so. Unfortunately, we couldn’t get close enough to hear what they discussed without bringing undue attention.”
“Apparently, you got close enough to meet up with someone’s fist,” Rolfe said.
“It was the only way we could think to find out who they were. We set up a ruse to steal the woman’s purse to look at her identification.”
“And what have you learned?”
“The woman is Remi Fargo. I heard her calling out to someone named Sam. We assume he’s her husband.” Gere held out a folded notepaper.
Rolfe took the sheet, reading the two names. “What do we know about them?”
“We’re not sure yet. We’ve only just returned.”
“Find out and get back to me.”
“We will.”
Rolfe set the paper on the table next to the gun. “Anything else?”
“Not yet. We’ll know more tomorrow when we meet up with Durin.”
“Call me as soon as you do.”
After Gere left, Rolfe took his wineglass out to the balcony, where Tatiana waited, her back to him as she looked out toward the city.
He paused a moment to admire her. In her Christian Louboutin red stiletto heels, she stood nearly as tall as he. Her red silk dress draped softly over her lithe figure. She was exquisite. “How is your wine?”
She turned toward him, her expression calm. “Perfect,” she said, lifting her glass in a toast. “To good fortune.”
“Agreed.” He touched the edge of his glass to hers.
She sipped, then turned her attention back to the cityscape. “That very bright area out there. What is it?”
“The marketplace. Some evening, perhaps, we can venture out there. The medina is quite a sight to behold.”
“If I’m here that long.” She turned, leaning back against the stone parapet, to look at him. “Tell me, Rolfe. Do you think this is the plane? The one you’ve been searching for all this time?”
Her question surprised him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because your father was so obsessed with it. Why else would you be here, of all places?”
His father. Of course. “And why are you here, Tatiana?”
“Visiting one of my favorite German businessmen, of course.” She swirled the red wine about in her glass, her expression softening. “If I’m not mistaken, you were just about to convince me why I should stay on here…”
“Why don’t we discuss the matter over dinner,” he said, guiding her to the patio table that had already been set.
A couple of hours later, when he walked her out, he saw Gere’s note had fallen to the floor. The breeze must have swept it from the table.
Tatiana reached it before he did, leaning down to pick it up. She handed it to him. “Something to do with your impromptu business meeting at the start of our dinner?”
“Apparently, someone who’s also interested in the plane.”
“You’d better move fast, then.”
“I intend to,” he replied, guiding her to the door. After she left, he looked at the names written there.
Sam and Remi Fargo.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone had disappeared from the face of the earth after getting in his way.
7
Having to make a last-minute trip to Marrakesh had not been on Tatiana’s agenda, but there was little she could do once she’d gotten word that Rolfe had arrived and was very close to finding the plane. And so it was that she’d taken the first flight from Russia to meet with him. Getting him to invite her over for dinner was the easy part. Keeping him from discovering her interest in the plane while trying to find out what he knew? That had been a challenge.
She’d taken a calculated risk this evening, asking about the plane, but, in the end, it seemed the only way she could think to get the information as quickly as she needed. It surprised her, though, that Rolfe had given it up so easily, and she wondered if his undue interest made him prone to the same mistakes his father had made. For a man with so many successful criminal enterprises, Rolfe hadn’t struck her as someone so careless as to leave a note such as that out in the open where anyone could see it. Then again, maybe that had more to do with her part in carefully nurturing a relationship with him over the last six months in order to keep tabs on his hunt for the missing courier pouch.
His loss, her gain, she thought after Rolfe’s driver dropped her off. She took out her telephone and made a call the moment the car drove off.
“I’m back at the hotel now,” she said, speaking Russian, as she walked through the lobby. “I think I stumbled across something that I wasn’t meant to see. Two names. Remi Fargo. The other name is Sam, I assume same last name. I want to know everything on them as soon as possible.”
“Has to be the American couple we saw them meeting with tonight when we followed Rolfe’s men. They stole the woman’s purse, no doubt to find out who she was. I’ll get started on it. How’d the dinner go?”
“Flawless. Although he knows that I’m aware of his interest, I believe it will work to our advantage.”
“You let him know you knew about the plane?”
“I felt it was necessary.”
“And he didn’t seem suspicious? Or even suspect that you’re the other buyer that Durin Kahrs had contacted?”
“Not in the least.” She glanced at the three clocks over the hotel’s front desk, each giving a different time for that part of the world. Here, in Marrakesh, it was past midnight. “Keep me informed. I have a feeling that we can trust Durin Kahrs as much as we trust Rolfe. Not at all.”