If I’d checked the numbers on the cellular signals, I would have known the approaching target wasn’t Sergei. I wouldn’t have signaled Galina into action and wouldn’t have been shocked when a black Lexus pulled into the apartment’s parking lot. “Idiot!” I muttered. The Lexus did a one-eighty in the lot and stopped in the apartment’s driveway, facing the Prokuratura. Pounding the license number into my laptop and seeing that the car belonged to Vladimir Ambalov wasn’t my biggest concern; that Anna and Galina were plainly visible to the occupants of the Lexus while they crouched behind a parked car, was.
Galina, thinking on her feet, pawed through the snow beside the parked car where she and Anna were crouched. She patted her pockets, hiding her digital camera in the process, making a show of looking for dropped keys. Before retreating back into a neighboring building to the east, Galina tried the doors on the parked car, shrugged her shoulders apologetically and gestured Anna back inside. At least, that’s what it looked like from my hide on the balcony. I breathed a sigh of relief, seeing Anna and Galina enter the other building without being followed.
A laptop signaled that a cellular number it recognized had joined the network. I heard it faintly from the balcony. The black Mercedes pulling up in front of the Prokuratura had to be Sergei’s. Anna’s mother, the Skater, was probably in the car. A couple of Prokuratura guards wandered by the big wooden doors in opposite directions. Then Sergei himself stepped out of the Mercedes, stretched, and stood in front of the car. He lit a cigarette and took a long slow drag. The driver of the Lexus, in a weird sort of ballet, did the same thing. He got out, took a casual stroll around the car, then stood in front of it lighting his cigarette.
By the time the cigarettes were smoked down to the filters and the drivers looked uncomfortably cold, one of the Prokuratura’s front doors opened and issued forth a high ranking official. Clad in his impeccably tailored suit and fine Italian shoes, the official moved to the sidewalk by the Mercedes and casually looked around as though he were waiting for a bus. He showed no interest or recognition when Vladimir stepped out of the Lexus, crossed the street and got into the back seat of Sergei’s Mercedes. Sergei, also playing at oblivious to what was going on in his car, ground out his cigarette, crossed his arms, and turned his back to the vehicle. That must have been the official’s invitation, because he deftly opened the driver’s side back door and got into the Mercedes.
“Damn, it’s all gonna happen in the car.” I fumed, looking over the balcony and seeing no sign of Galina. At least I had photographs of the cars, license plates, and people getting in and out, but without seeing the subjects together, it wasn’t the kind of evidence that could prove association. I had just enough time to reload the camera before all three, Vladimir, The Skater, and the well dressed official got out of the Mercedes. Hugging and kissing, they presented me with perfect shots before moving to stand behind the car. Yana Keitel, Anna’s mother, The Skater, unlocked and opened the trunk. Inside were cardboard boxes marked soy sauce in Cyrillic. I saw it all clearly through my viewfinder while getting great shots.
Vladimir leaned into the trunk and slit one of the boxes, revealing bundles of cash. The official reached for one, examined it, tossed it back into the box. He signaled to the two previously disinterested Prokuratura guards. They approached the car and reached into the trunk. Like a shot, they withdrew and backed off. I heard Galina shouting, “Stop, get back here!”
I dropped the camera and stuck my head up to look over the balcony. Anna was striding toward the Mercedes. The door to the residential building she had just emerged from slammed shut behind her. The group at the back of the Mercedes was dumbfounded as Anna approached. The Skater barked something at the two men. They took off. She slammed the trunk and spun around to face her daughter. The official ducked back into the Prokuratura followed by his bodyguards. Vladimir made a beeline for his Lexus across the street.
Sergei, forgotten in the background, leaped into action, sprinting toward where he heard Galina’s shout. Hoping she’d seen him, my mind screamed silent warnings of screw ups and betrayals. Fighting to control surging panic and the impulse to do something really stupid like cry out a warning to Galina, I watched, and even photographed, Yana frantically dealing with her daughter’s unexpected confrontation.
Fixating on what I saw through the viewfinder, I almost missed Vladimir’s Lexus fishtailing out of the driveway and onto Gusovsky Boulevard. I could hear Anna shouting at her mother, but couldn’t make out the heated conversation. I certainly heard the Skater holler for Sergei as Anna broke free of her mother’s grasp. She sprinted for the entrance of our apartment building. Paralyzed, I watched Anna punch in the lock code with Sergei closing on her fast. She swung the door open and pulled it hard. It slammed just as Sergei crashed into it. He yanked at the door a couple of times, then scanned the building. I yanked my head back, pressing my body into the snow on the balcony. I was afraid to breathe. He returned to the Mercedes. Before getting in behind the wheel, he looked the apartment building up and down. The Mercedes drove off slowly.
I crawled into the apartment. Anna was pounding on the door before using the key. She burst in, flung her mitts across the room and kicked off her boots. I said nothing. I was frozen, physically and emotionally.
“I saw the money.” Anna muttered. “What do we do now?”
“We?” I was finally moving. First thing I thought of was collecting canisters of exposed film, taping them to the back of the cupboard. I sure as hell didn’t want to be caught with that kind of evidence. I’d be holding a smoking gun pointed at the syndicate.
Anna said nothing. She just watched me hiding film and pounding on laptops. I backing up and re-encrypted data on memory chips. Those I pocketed. I was pretty damn sure of my own encryption.
I heard Galina’s key in the lock. She stomped into the apartment and grabbed her bag. “I got nothing,” Then, turning to Anna, “You bitch! You are either a traitor or you are very, very stupid.”
“Nothing?” I asked.
“Not a thing. I was too busy keeping us both from getting killed.”
“I’ve got film. And there’s data.”
“No good. This investigation is over, at least my part in it.” Galina snapped at Anna. “It is over for everyone. They know we are here now. They will do anything they can to find us, find out what happened and stop the damage. That was not only your mother down there!”
“I am not a traitor, I did not tell anyone about you.” Anna said.
“Well you ran right for the apartment. Pointed it out for them. Your mother is going to think it is an accident you showed up in the middle of a payoff? If they are not looking for me, they certainly are looking for you — daughter of The Skater — and now they know exactly where you are. It is just a matter of time.”
Galina started for the door. “I am done,” she told me. “We are in great danger.” She punched something into her cell phone and hit send. “You must right away get out of Ukraine.” She emphasized it in English for my benefit. Then she popped the back off her phone, pulled out the SIM card, snapped it between her teeth and pocketed the pieces.