“You’re welcome,” I said.
Putler beamed and looked me over. At first I was flattered—he seemed so genuinely grateful. I forgot his reputation and his misdeeds, real and alleged. He was a world leader and he was thanking me. How could I not be gracious? But then his expression seemed to morph from smile to grin, or perhaps that’s what it had been all along and I was just too naïve to realize it. There was a lasciviousness to the curl of his lips that gave me a creepy vibe that I’d just been measured, evaluated and appraised on the basest physical level.
“Since you’re an American,” Putler said, turning serious, “I want to tell you something. Yes, I love cranes and tigers. And polar bears and snow leopards. Oh, how I love the snow leopard. But I love blue jays and butterflies, too. These lies that your American magazine spread about me… That I’m some kind of asswipe that takes pictures of the great carnivores to show that I’m in command of them… that is complete and total crap.”
I was so stunned by his choice of words and his obsession about what some periodical had written about him that I didn’t know what to say. So I just nodded, like a sympathetic asswipe.
“If I wanted to be that guy… If I wanted to show the world that I can tame the beast, I’d take pictures of the T-Rex I’ve had genetically re-created at my compound from a pre-historic DNA sample.” He leaned toward me, eyes afire. “Jurassic Park,” he said in broken English, before switching back to Russian. “It is fiction no more. It is a reality and it is mine.” He pulled his neck back. “How would you like to show the world some pictures of that?”
I had to take a moment to make sure he was joking, which his wink and grin finally confirmed.
“At first I wasn’t sure if you were kidding,” I said. “You spoke with so much… conviction.”
“As opposed to?” Putler said.
“An American politician.”
Putler let out a belly laugh and pointed at Simmy. “I see why this one likes you to order dinner for him. He told me you have Russian bloodlines, so it doesn’t surprise me that we get along well, you know?”
“Not Russian,” I said without thinking. “Ukrainian.”
“Excuse me?”
“My parents. And their parents. They were Ukrainian. Not Russian.”
Only after I’d corrected Putler did I notice the cloud that had descended over Simmy’s face.
Oops.
Putler smiled and shrugged. “It’s the same thing, sweetheart. There’s no such country as Ukraine. Ukrainians are proper Russians. Always have been. Always will be.”
“Then why are you bombing them?”
A hint of irritation crossed Putler’s face, but it was quickly replaced with the thoughtful look of an experienced statesman. “I’m not bombing them. Someone has misinformed you. It’s my duty to protect and support all Russian people no matter where they live. If my support results in Ukraine re-joining the Russian empire, so be it. You see, you’re American, and you don’t understand something very basic.”
“What’s that?” I said.
“Ukraine has no leadership because they’re basically Russian peasants. They need to be led by a Russian. Your Western press lies to you and tells you I’m bombing them. No, that is not true. What I’m doing is saving them. Putler leaned into my ear. “We’ll leave the bombing for the Poles. No one ever had any use for them.” He pulled his head back and winked. Then a lunatic’s smile spread on his face. “And after them, who knows?” He switched to broken English and sang softly. “Oh say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light…” He stopped singing and winked again.
He sounded unhinged, which was ironic because I felt as though I were coming unhinged, as though I knew I should play dumb and walk away but I simply couldn’t deny my urge to set his ass straight. Blaspheming motherfucker, I thought. And then I caught Simmy smiling out of the corner of my eye. It was a forced smile by a desperate man because I could see him begging me with his eyes…
I reached out and brushed Putler’s arm with my fingers. “Just let me know ahead of time, Mr. President,” I said. “so I can escape to my ancestral homeland in time. Just me and my kitty. She looks just like a snow leopard, you know.”
Putler grinned as though that bonded us for life. He proceeded to remove a business card from his wallet. Then he raised his hand over his shoulder, snapped his fingers, and made a writing motion with the same hand. In a flash, a bodyguard was slipping a pen into his hand.
“A Russian man always pays his debts,” Putler said, as he scribbled something on the card. “As a token of thanks. I’d like to offer you a gift.” He finished writing and handed me the card.
I took it.
“I’ve granted you a favor.”
“A favor?”
“Yes. One favor. My private number is on that card. If there is ever anything I can do to help you, you can reach out to me. And if I can help you, I will.”
I stared at the card. It fascinated, repulsed and electrified me. This had to be one of world’s ultimate get-out-of-jail free cards, and regardless of the morals of the man who’d underwritten the guarantee, it was mine.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” Putler said, “I have to talk to this guy in private for a minute. Maybe he can give me some advice on how to make some money.”
Putler punched Simmy playfully in the shoulder. Simmy cast a look of gratitude at me as he followed Putler to his leather sofa.
I waited off to the side, pleased with myself. I could have gone off on Putler. In my younger, less prudent days, I probably would have done just that. But now I had clients to please and a man to impress. I hated to admit that, but whom was I fooling? And based on the look Simmy had given me before he’d walked away with his mentor, I’d succeeded.
Less than five minutes later, Simmy returned, slipped his hand along the curve of my back and guided me toward the white door.
“How did it go?” I said, as soon as we were outside.
“Fantastic,” Simmy said.
“Is he always that way?”
“What way?”
“Insane,” I said.
Simmy chuckled. “I told you he can sound eccentric to people who don’t know him well. Maybe he was even a bit odder today, but who can blame him? The man’s been under a lot of pressure himself. In fact, the man’s under constant pressure.”
“But the two of you?” I said. “You’re good?”
Simmy allowed himself a grin, which was the equivalent of a full-fledged smile for most men. “He is so grateful. I reaffirmed my loyalty to him and he told me he wants us both to join him for Christmas Eve this year.”
“Both of us?”
Simmy patted my lower back. “I have to stop by my headquarters in London and take a meeting with some financiers. I’ll have my driver take you to the Grosvenor. You can check in, refresh yourself, and then I’ll meet you for lunch. We start with a drink at the hotel bar, yes?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. In the meantime, when you get to your hotel room, be certain to secure your valuables in the hotel safe. London is a crazy town. You can never be too cautious.”
It was finally over. The murder had, indeed, been part of a more complex maze of problems that Simmy needed help resolving. And I’d helped him resolve them.
All that was left was for me to collect my reward.
CHAPTER 29
After checking into the hotel, I took a long shower and changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. I was about to lie down on the bed and check my e-mails when I remembered Simmy’s advice about using the safe. I always secured my valuables when I left the room, but I never worried about them when I was in the hotel, especially not with my door bolted shut from the inside. I saw no reason to do so this time, either, but decided to take a look at it and set the code for later use.