Poe

Chapter Eleven

Despite what others might have believed, Alex was only fluent in English. She did, however, have an excellent grasp of her mother’s native Farsi, and a more than adequate, conversational knowledge of French — also thanks to her mother. But beyond those, she knew only a handful of phrases in Arabic, from her time in Iraq, and a few in German that were best not spoken in public. The last, compliments of Emerick.

None of those could help her now. She had zero knowledge of Romanian, a fact that was reinforced the moment the receptionist at the Hotel Vega greeted her.

“Cu ce vă pot ajuta?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, offering her an apologetic smile. “I don’t understand.”

A light seemed to go on in the face of the woman across the counter. “Ah. England?”

“Canada, actually. You speak English?”

“Little bit. May I help you?”

“I think you have a bus ticket waiting for me to pick up.”

The woman’s brow creased as she bit her lip, uncertain. “Bus ticket. You have for me.”

“No,” Alex said, tapping her own chest with a forefinger. “For me. You have one for me.”

Still looking confused, the young woman mumbled something unintelligible. A second receptionist, who was helping another guest, leaned toward her and whispered something in Romanian.

Again, the spark of realization. “Okay, yes,” the first receptionist said, smiling. “Bus. Yes. Name you?”

“Maureen Powell.”

“Again, please?”

Instead of repeating herself, Alex pulled out her Canadian passport and opened it to the information page. A moment later, she was in possession of the ticket that would take her into Ukraine.

The receptionist pointed toward the door. “Bus come…” She paused, searching for the right words, then turned to the other receptionist for help.

Her colleague looked at Alex, and said, “Bus arrive twenty minutes. Can sit and wait.”

“Thank you,” Alex said.

She used a bit of her Romanian currency to purchase a pastry and a bottle of water from a small shop in the lobby, then took a seat. It wasn’t long before others started drifting in with their bags. A few arrived from outside, but most seemed to have been staying at the hotel. They all looked to be in their early twenties. While a few were toting suitcases, most had backpacks like Alex.

The bus arrived ten minutes late, but it didn’t take long to get their bags stowed away and everyone on board. Alex sat next to a Dutch girl named Heike who was touring with two others, Romee and Anika, sitting in the next row up. Heike was apparently in the mood to talk — in nearly accent-free English — so Alex nodded politely and threw in a few words here and there as the bus passed through the city and into the countryside.

It wasn’t long, however, before they stopped at the border crossing into Moldova. Alex’s passport performed as advertised, raising no red flags with the immigration officials. Once everyone on the bus was cleared, they were off again, only to stop less than two kilometers farther on at the Moldovan border with Ukraine.

Passport checks again, this time with a thorough inspection of the bus’s luggage compartments. One of the passengers who’d been sitting near the back was hauled into a room by two unsmiling officials. They all had to wait over half an hour until the door opened again and the young man returned, looking both scared and relieved. The word circling around the bus later was that the guards had accused him of trying to smuggle drugs into the country, but had been unable to find anything to back that up.

With the exception of a few places where they passed along the Black Sea, the road was lined with farmland nearly all the way to Odessa. Twice they made stops, letting a few of the backpackers off at each.

They finally entered Odessa just after three p.m., and reached their final destination, the Bristol Hotel, fifteen minutes later. As they’d neared the city, Heike had asked Alex how long she was planning to stay there. Alex had made the mistake of saying she would be catching a train out of town that very evening, because it turned out that Heike and her friends were heading to the train station as well.

Not wanting to look like a jerk, Alex agreed to share a cab ride with them.

The cabbie didn’t look too happy as the four girls squeezed themselves and their gear into his car. Several times during the ride, he spit out something in Ukrainian that was undoubtedly meant to express his displeasure. Feeling a bit guilty, Alex slipped him double his fare when they disembarked at the Odessa-Glavnaya station. The act gained her a frown and a grunt that she assumed was thanks.

The Dutch girls were headed to Moscow. Unfortunately, the Moscow train had left two hours earlier. The best they could do was catch an overnight to Kiev, and get on another train there.

Alex’s train to Simferopol, the capital of Crimea, was scheduled to leave at midnight, an hour after the girls’ train departed for Kiev. She so wanted to say goodbye right there at the ticket counter, but when Heike invited her to join them for dinner, Alex said yes. She was playing a role, after all, and summer backpackers were in large part a social group.

The trouble happened a few hours later. If Alex had really been someone else, she could have walked away and let the girls deal with it on their own.

Unfortunately, role or no role, she was still Alexandra Poe.

They were in an area right off the main central portion of the station, sitting on the floor. The other girls were passing around their cameras, showing off the pictures they’d taken that day. Romee had not fully closed one of the zippers on her backpack, leaving an opening just wide enough for a small, emaciated teenager to slip his hand inside before they even realized it was happening.

Alex had her back to the guy, so she first noticed that something was up when Anika jumped to her feet, yelling, “Hey! Hey!”

Alex whirled around. “What?”

Anika pointed at the guy running away. “He took something from Romee’s pack!”

As Alex jumped up, Romee pulled the zipper all the way open. “My passport! He has my passport!”

Alex jumped over the bags and raced down the hall. Waiting passengers surprised first by the running boy, then by Alex, jumped out of the way. A few shouted in anger.

Ahead, the kid pushed through a group of people who hadn’t seen him coming, then shoved open a door and ran outside.

“Move, move, move!” Alex shouted. She weaved through them, burst through the doorway, and found herself standing before a row of train platforms. Several were filled with passenger cars waiting to leave the station, while others sat unused.

The boy, apparently deciding that speed was better than deception, had run straight down the platform directly in front of Alex. There was a train on one side and none on the other. The boy was sticking to the empty side where few people were walking.

Alex kicked it into high gear. She may have been six or seven years older than the kid, but those years had been productive ones when it came to improving her physical abilities, so she immediately began closing the gap between them.

The gray and red brick platform curved slightly to the left before descending to the level of the tracks and disappearing. Halfway down, the kid looked over his shoulder and nearly stumbled when he saw Alex still behind him. He caught himself and began pumping his arms harder, but it was clear he was already going as fast as he could.

Somewhere back toward the station, Alex heard a whistle and knew the police were on their way. She didn’t bother to check.

At the far platform a train started pulling away, its clickety-clack growing faster and faster as it gained speed.

“Stop!” Alex shouted as she closed to within fifty feet of the boy.

He shot another look back, this time without losing his balance, then raced to the end of the platform and onto the ground between two of the tracks.

Shit.

Alex pounded down after him.

With the platforms gone, the tracks closed in on each other, giving the sense that the train now leaving the station was heading right at them. The illusion must have been enough to scare the boy. He angled his path to the right, hopping over the nearby rails, and getting farther away from the moving locomotive.

“Stop!” she shouted again. In case he didn’t understand, she tried, “Halt!” but she was wasting her breath.

There was another whistle, this one much deeper and more powerful than the earlier police whistle. It was also coming from in front of them, not behind. Alex looked past the boy at the tracks ahead. Less than a quarter mile down, coming around a bend to the right, a train was heading toward the station, and appeared to be on the same tracks that she and the kid had just hopped over.

The boy seemed to notice this, too, and moved again to the right, jumping over the next set of tracks. But as he went over the final rail, his toe caught the top, sending him flying through the air, his arms outstretched in front of him as if he were Superman.

With a thud and a loud groan, he hit the ground less than a foot in front of the next set of tracks. Any farther and he would have cracked his skull on the rail. As it was, his right arm had smacked hard against the steel.

“Ah, ah, ah!” He cried in pain, grabbing his arm.

Alex reached him a few seconds later, putting a hand on his back. “Don’t move.”

He tried to shake her off. “Let go.”

At least he spoke English.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said. “I just want to see where you’re injured.”

Reluctantly, he let her look him over. His forearm was definitely broken. It lay bent on the ground as if it had a second elbow. She gave him credit for not passing out from the pain. As she finished checking him, she noticed he was still clutching Romee’s red passport, and what appeared to be a small, zippered pouch with a floral design.

“Were these worth it?” She ripped them from his hand and slipped them into her pocket.

The train whistled again, and as she looked up, she realized they’d both been wrong. It wasn’t on the other track, but on the one the kid’s arm was now lying across.

“Sorry,” she said, then grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up.

Clutching his broken limb, he screamed. Alex ignored the howl, and half carried, half dragged the boy over the tracks, back to where the platform stopped.

The train passed by with another blow of its whistle as she was setting the thief down. Seconds later, two police officers arrived. They paused for a moment, catching their breath, before talking to Alex in Ukrainian.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

They tried again, but she shrugged and shook her head, so they turned their attention to the boy, barking at him in their native language.

Struggling through his pain, the kid said something that made both officers look at Alex, then the one closest to her grabbed her arm.

“Hey!” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He whirled her around and started patting her down, stopping at the pocket where she’d put Romee’s pouch and passport. He pointed at the bulge and said something sharp and abrupt.

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

He pointed again, and repeated his words more forcefully.

She pressed her lips tightly together, and pulled out Romee’s things. She didn’t want to, but she let him take the items from her. He opened the passport, looked at the picture, then at her, and back at the picture.

She didn’t have to understand Ukrainian to know what he meant when he spoke again.

“Yeah, I know,” she told him. “Not me. That belongs to my friend.” She pointed at the kid. “He took it.”

The cop ignored her and unzipped the pouch, revealing the tip of a wad of cash.

His eyes widened slightly and he said something to the boy, who responded quickly and nodded emphatically. The cop turned to Alex, repeated almost the same words to her, while holding out the pouch and gesturing to the boy.

“No, it’s not his,” she said, then pointed to herself. “It’s mine. Well, my friend’s. It’s definitely not his.”

Looking annoyed, the cop studied her a moment before he turned to his partner. A quick conference resulted in the first one helping the boy to his feet as his partner grabbed Alex’s arm again.

The officers escorted Alex and the boy back toward the station. Heike and Romee were waiting right outside the doors. The two girls ran over as Alex and the others neared the end of the platform.

“Are you all right?” Heike asked.

Alex nodded. “Fine.”

Heike looked at the boy. “My God, what happened to him?”

“He didn’t watch where he was going.”

The cop holding the boy spoke abruptly, waving the girls out of his way.

Seeing the passport in his hand, Romee said, “Is that mine?”

“Yeah,” Alex told her.

Romee pointed at the passport, and said to the cop, “Give that to me.”

The cops stopped, and the one holding the passport opened it to look at the picture.

“He’s got your money, too,” Alex said.

“My money?”

“A little zippered pouch. Flowers on the outside?”

Romee stiffened and her face paled. She said something under her breath in Dutch, then whispered to Heike. Heike’s eyes grew big as her friend spoke, and her expression turned angry. Romee cowered a bit, saying something in a tone that could only be pleading.

“What?” Alex asked, afraid of the answer.

Heike stared at her friend for a moment longer, then turned to Alex. “Do they speak English?”

“No, but Mr. Quick Fingers over there does a little, at least.”

Heike looked confused for a moment, then seemed to understand who Alex meant. She leaned in so no one else could hear. “Did they look inside?”

“Just enough to see the cash. Why? What’s in there?”

“Not here,” Heike whispered.

While they were talking, the cop compared the passport photo to Romee. Finally, he pointed at the two girls and gestured for them to come along.

Pantomiming as she spoke, Romee said, “I don’t want to cause trouble for the boy. Just give me my things and we forget everything.”

Son of a bitch, Alex thought.

She realized now what was going on.

Somewhere in that pouch was hash or marijuana or something similar. Whatever it was, it would land them all in a whole boatload of trouble. Which meant her mission was about to end before it even started.

Shit.

The police officer repeated his gestures, this time emphasizing it with words. He shoved the passport and pouch into his pocket, and grabbed Romee’s arm with his free hand. The other cop latched on to Heike and they continued on their way.

They were quite a sight for all the waiting passengers. Alex would have laughed at the irony if she could have. There would be no problem getting thrown into prison now. Unfortunately, given that she was still hundreds of miles from Crimea, it wouldn’t be the right prison.

How the hell would she get out of this?

The police took them into a small three-room office down a back hallway of the station. They put the girls in one room and shut the door. Alex could hear them moving around in the outer room for a few minutes, then it grew quiet. She guessed they were getting the boy some medical attention.

She looked at Romee, and said in a low voice, “What the hell’s in that pouch?”

Romee hesitated. “Marijuana.”

Jesus. “How much?”

“Very little. Not even enough to make smoke, um, joint, yes?”

Alex closed her eyes and counted to ten. Did this idiot not understand anything? In some countries, even a trace amount could get you a dozen years in prison.

Alex wasn’t up on the latest Ukrainian laws, but she knew they had to be a hell of a lot harsher than those in the Netherlands, where you could legally buy pot at the corner coffee shop.

“They probably won’t even find it,” Romee said.

Alex opened her eyes again. “The moment they pull your money out, they’ll see it.”

“No. It’s in the lining. There’s a hole at the bottom, closed with a safety pin. If they don’t open the pin, they won’t find it.”

“How much do you want to bet on that happening?”

Alex checked her watch. It was 9:50, two hours and change until her train left. A train she couldn’t miss. Dammit. She should have just let the guy run.

Voices in the outer office again, three separate ones this time. While Alex recognized two as belonging to the cops, the third was definitely not the boy’s. It was female.

Several minutes passed, then the door to their room opened. The main cop stood in the doorway, pointed at Alex, and gestured for her to follow him. She pushed herself off the desk she was leaning against and headed out. The other two girls started to fall in step behind her, but the cop barked at them and shook his head.

As soon as Alex was out, he shut the door.

The other cop was standing near the woman. She was a bit older than both men, perhaps in her forties, with a stern face that wasn’t helped by her pulled-back hair.

The cop led Alex to the third room, the smallest of the lot. He jutted his chin at the lone empty chair. Alex took the hint and sat.

As the stern-faced woman stepped inside, the cop closed the door, leaving his partner outside on guard duty. He and the woman stared at Alex for a long moment without saying anything.

Finally, Alex held out her hands. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled humorlessly. “Your name, please.”

Alex was relieved that she spoke English. “Maureen Powell.”

“May I have your passport?”

Alex pulled her passport out of her pocket and handed it over. The woman examined it, then handed it to the man.

“Canadian, I see,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And you are in Ukraine for…?”

“Holiday.”

“Your entry stamp is from today. Good way to start trip, yes?”

“Not exactly.”

That smile again. “Please, tell us exactly what happened.”

Alex proceeded to describe the events as she’d witnessed them. She paused every now and then so that the woman could translate her response to the police officer. She was honest and straightforward, leaving nothing out.

“So you were trying to get back items for friend?”

“That’s correct.”

“I see.” A pause. “How long have you known friend?”

“We just met today.”

“Today?” the woman said, surprised. “You very nice to someone known to you only a few hours.”

“That kid tried to steal something. I don’t like it when someone takes something that’s not theirs. I don’t care if I’ve just met the victim or known her all my life.”

A sneer grew on the woman’s face. “So you are good person.”

“Maybe. Does it matter? Look, you’ve got the guy. He obviously had Romee’s passport and bag. Is there a problem?”

“He say he not know why you chase him. He say items you say he take, you have, not him.”

“Of course he does. Just talk to my friends. They saw him take it. There’s probably another half a dozen people wandering around the station who saw him do it. Do you guys have cameras? It has to be on video, too.”

“Talk your friends next.”

“But you talked to the kid first, huh? And you believe him?” Alex shook her head. “You know what? As far as I’m concerned, you can keep what he took. I’ve got a train to catch.” She rose to her feet.

“Please. Sit back down.”

“I really don’t have time to hang around here any longer.”

“You will leave when we say it’s okay.”

“You’ve got no reason to keep me here.”

“There is matter of boy’s broken arm.”

“What about it?”

“He says you pushed him.”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t even close enough to touch him, let alone push. The kid tripped over the rail. I bet if you went back there, you could see scuff marks and figure it out all on your own.”

“If this is case, he would not have trip if you had not chased him, no?”

Now Alex was getting pissed. “And I wouldn’t have chased him if he hadn’t stolen my friend’s passport and pouch. Tell me, what would you have done if it had been your friend?”

They went back and forth like this for several minutes, before they returned Alex to the other room and exchanged her with Romee. It was now almost ten thirty. The time until Alex’s train departed was growing dangerously short. And unless they were all released in the next twenty minutes or so, the Dutch girls were definitely going to miss theirs. Of course, they didn’t have an appointment to be arrested the next day in Crimea. It would be only an inconvenience for them, while for Alex it would mean losing out on the opportunity to get a lead on her father.

After Romee, it was Heike’s turn.

Romee took a chair as far from Alex as she could, occasionally looking over, meek and wary.

“Did they…did they ask you about the pouch?” the girl finally asked.

Alex waited a moment before she answered. “No.”

“They didn’t say anything to me, either,” Romee said quickly. “I don’t think they found—”

“Shut up,” Alex said.

“Sorry. I was just…I’m…” Romee’s shoulders drooped. “What’s going to happen to us?”

Alex decided it was best not to answer that question.

It was almost eleven when Heike was ushered back in.

As soon as the three were alone, Romee asked Heike a question in Dutch.

“I don’t know,” Heike said in English. It was clear she was still angry with her friend, and wanted to include Alex. “They didn’t tell me anything.”

Alex heard the main door to the outer office open, then new voices. She cursed under her breath. Just what she needed. Additional authorities to slow things down even more. She had been toying with a last-ditch plan to make a run for it the next time the door to their makeshift cell opened. She was more than confident she could get away from the two bozos who’d been holding them, and somehow get on that train and leave town. It would mean leaving without her passport and her backpack, which, hopefully, Anika was still watching. The backpack was unimportant, but the lack of a passport would be a problem. Still, it would be better to be headed to Crimea than stuck here on a potential drug charge. But if the cops now had friends, that escape plan was not nearly as viable.

The voices outside grew heated until a bark of finality silenced the room. When the conversation resumed, the tones were quieter and more contrite.

Footsteps approached the door to the girls’ room. When the door opened, the two original cops were standing there, looking unhappy. One of them blurted out something while the other waved for the girls to come out.

Not needing a second invitation, they filed into the larger room. There were three new men there now, two uniformed cops probably in their twenties, and a middle-aged man in a suit.

The older man barked something at the original officers. There was a second’s hesitation, then passports were produced and returned to the girls.

“What about my money purse?” Romee asked.

The older man shot a look across the room at the translator. The woman was standing in the corner, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere else. The man asked her a question, she answered, then he looked at the two arresting officers and barked again.

The taller one pulled Romee’s pouch out of his pocket and handed it to her.

The suited man started talking to the girls. When he finished, he glanced at the translator again.

“Colonel Hubenko apologizes for your…inconvenience. He hopes you will not let this keep you from enjoying rest of stay in Ukraine.”

The colonel said something else.

“If you need anything, please let him know,” the woman translated.

“We’re free to go?” Romee said.

“Yes.”

“We’ve missed our train,” Heike said. “Tell him we’ve missed our train. We were supposed to go to Kiev tonight.”

The translator talked with the colonel for a moment, then said, “We will put you in hotel near train station tonight, compliments of the Ukrainian police. In morning, Colonel Hubenko himself will make sure you are on first train out, private compartment. Is this okay?”

Heike and Romee shared a look.

“Yeah, that will be fine,” Heike said.

“For three, yes?” the woman asked.

“Yes. Our friend is waiting in the station with our bags. She’s probably scared to death.”

“Your friend?” the woman said.

“Yes.”

The translator looked at Alex. “What about you?”

“I still have time to catch my train.”

The woman translated everything to the colonel, who took a moment to yell at the two cops again. Alex was pretty sure she knew what the problem was this time. The cops hadn’t even thought to see if there was anyone else traveling with the girls. The lack of luggage should have been a glaring clue. The colonel was not happy.

They found Anika with their bags right where they had left her. The relief on her face was immense. As she hugged her two friends, Alex strapped on her backpack.

“Hopefully the rest of your trip isn’t quite as adventurous,” Alex said.

Heike pulled away from her friends and eyed Alex gratefully. “We didn’t thank you for chasing that boy.”

“Almost wish I hadn’t,” Alex said, smiling. “You guys take care.”

After hugs and goodbyes, Alex navigated through the station and out the door to her platform. The train to Simferopol was already in the station, waiting.

As she neared her car, a voice said, “Next time you get arrested, make sure it’s when you’re supposed to.”

Cooper was standing on the other side of a large baggage trolley piled high with suitcases.

Alex stopped. “Technically, I wasn’t under arrest.”

“Technically,” he said, smirking, “it isn’t easy to find a police colonel I can bribe on such short notice. You should consider yourself lucky.”

“Thank you.”

“Try not to let it happen again, huh?” He smiled.

“I’ll do my best.”

He touched his forehead as if tipping a hat. “Safe journey.” With that, he headed down the platform toward the station.

“Here’s hoping,” Alex said to herself, then climbed aboard the train.