Finally, she thought as Rolfe perused the wine menu. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” she asked, slipping her phone into her clutch, also on her lap, then sliding her chair out. “I should have stopped by the ladies’ room on my way in.”
He made a cursory rise from his chair as she stood.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, then turned toward the lobby. Once in the ladies’ room, she pushed open each toilet stall door to make sure it was empty before calling Viktor. Her foot tapped a cadence on the polished marble floor as the phone rang.
Eventually, Viktor picked up. “I have the update you wanted,” he said.
“A bit late, don’t you think?”
“A few complications. The police towed the rental cars, and one of our men was injured in a shooting. I needed to tie up some loose ends so that nothing comes back to you.”
“What happened?” she asked.
Viktor hesitated, which in her experience always meant bad news. “Someone got to the apartment first,” he said at last. “We think it was the Fargos.”
“And?”
“The pouch was gone when we got there. Either they got it or someone did before them.”
The only other people who even knew the thing existed were Rolfe and his men, Durin being one of them. Who would’ve guessed that when she paid Durin to bring the courier pouch to her instead of Rolfe, he was double-crossing all of them? She should’ve known better. That, however, mattered little. He was dead, and she still didn’t have the courier bag. “Do me a favor. See if you can learn any more about the Fargos. I’d like to know what they’re up to.”
“That’s what I was calling about. The Fargos arrived in Kaliningrad. This morning.”
“What on earth are they doing there?” Tatiana asked.
“There’s only one reason I can think of. They’re looking for information on the Romanov Ransom. They had to have recovered the courier bag from Durin.”
“Interesting. If anyone had it, I would’ve guessed Rolfe.”
“It’s possible that he got it from the Fargos. Regardless, the timing of their visit shows they have some knowledge of what that bag contained or they wouldn’t be here. I’m not sure how much you know about them, but they have the expertise and the wealth to self-fund their search.”
She took a moment to absorb that information. “How hard would it be to follow them?”
“With the men I have working for me? Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good. I want to know everything the Fargos are doing while they’re in Kaliningrad. Between their search and Rolfe’s, maybe all we’ll have to do is sit back and let them do the work.”
“Understood. I’ll set it up.”
After he disconnected, she dropped her cell phone into her purse, checked her makeup in the mirror, then returned to the table in the restaurant where Rolfe was waiting. “You ordered already?” she said, noticing a bottle of Argentinian Loscano Private Reserve Torrontés chilling in an ice bucket.
“I hope you don’t mind. Unfortunately, I have to catch a plane.”
She gave a small pout, hoping it was convincing enough. “And here I thought we’d be able to meet for dinner. You were supposed to take me to the medina.”
“Something came up,” he said.
A courier pouch, no doubt. “And where are you off to this time?”
“Home. Business matters that need attending to.”
She lifted her wineglass, taking a sip, looking at him over the rim, deciding that once again she was going to have to take the direct approach. “Any luck on your plane?”
He gave a neutral smile. “Unfortunately, the person I hired to find it was recently killed.”
“Oh. So that’s it, then? You’re giving up?”
“I didn’t say that. Just that I’m pursuing different avenues at this point.”
“What do you suppose is in it?”
“The plane?” He gave a slight shrug. “I suspect the usual World War Two regalia that’s so prized by collectors.”
“Nothing extraordinary about this particular regalia?”
“That’s what I hope to find out,” he said, then looked at his watch. “You’ll forgive me if I cut our time short. The bill is paid. So, please, enjoy your wine. I really do need to get going.” He stood, moving to her side, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Good-bye, Tatiana.”
With a perfunctory smile, he departed.
She sat there a moment, eyeing her wineglass, wondering if he really did have to leave or if she’d pushed him too far. A waiter, apparently noticing Rolfe’s departure, approached, asking if she was ready to order.
“Never mind,” she said. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
21
Originally known as Königsberg, the oblast of Kaliningrad became part of the Soviet Union at the end of World War II. When the Soviet Union collapsed, Kaliningrad remained part of the Russian Federation even though it was physically separated from Russia by Lithuania, Poland, and the Baltic Sea. Sometime in the 1990s, it went from being a closed state that restricted access of any foreigners to an open state that now allowed tourists to visit — as long as they had the proper visas. Sam and Remi, being semi-frequent visitors to Russia for various philanthropic events, kept current Russian visas and flew into Kaliningrad Khrabrovo Airport the following night.
Although Remi was fluent in a number of languages, Russian was not at the top of the list. As usual, the ever-efficient Selma made arrangements for a translator. “Sergei Vasyev,” she told them over the phone after they checked into their hotel.
“Vasyev?” Sam asked. “Any relation to Leonid?”
“His second cousin, if I’m not mistaken.” Leonid Vasyev, a Russian archaeologist, had worked with them on an expedition to the Solomon Islands. “Leonid informs me that Sergei is highly reliable, and, based on what Leonid knows about your… I believe he said ‘propensity for trouble,’ there’s no one else he’d recommend.”
“Then we look forward to meeting him.”
Sergei was waiting for them in the lobby of the hotel the next morning. There was a slight family resemblance to Leonid. Sergei was a bit taller, with dark hair, and blue eyes, and was much younger — closer to Sam’s age. His face lit up when he saw them step off the elevator and walk toward him. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. It’s an honor to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s ours,” Sam said. “And, please, Sam and Remi.”
“Sam and Remi, then,” he said, shaking their hands. “Leonid’s told me so much about you and your sponsorship of his expeditions. I look forward to working with you.”
“Likewise,” Sam said, noting his accent was almost nonexistent. “Your English is excellent. Where’d you grow up?”
“Name the country. My parents worked for the Russian embassy, and we moved around a lot. They insisted I learn the language of each country we lived in. I also went to graduate school in California. UCLA.”
“Majoring in?” Remi asked.
“Archaeology. Leonid was a big influence. I wanted to be able to travel like he does.”
As they pushed through the lobby doors, Sam said, “We have a rental car.”
“I can drive.” Sergei held up his keys. “Easier that way, since I know the streets. You have names of who you need to talk to?”
“Selma said she’d forward the information to us as soon as she found someone,” Remi said, checking to see if there were any updates on her phone. There weren’t. “I don’t suppose you know anyone who can talk to us about Königsberg castle.”
“What are you looking for there?”
“Some of the more obscure history of the castle during World War Two,” she said. “Preferably, a local historian who might know something about what the Germans stored there before it was bombed. Or someone who could give us anecdotes that didn’t make it into the textbooks or internet lore.”