Private Moscow

Chapter 62

Dinara and Jack waited in Feo’s UAZ Pickup. The larger-than-life former cop had insisted they take his truck, and Jack had agreed but only on condition Private paid a fair hire charge for it. They were parked behind Ernie Fisher’s building, waiting for Leonid to arrive, and they’d exhausted all their small talk. Neither of them had addressed what had happened the previous night, and Dinara wished she could take it all back. The rush of emotions she’d experienced after escaping from Veles, combined with the vodka, had impaired her judgment, and Jack Morgan — handsome, strong, successful Jack Morgan — had seemed irresistible. But he was her boss, and they had a job to do.

“How do we handle billing this?” Dinara asked, trying to re-establish their professional relationship. “This truck, the surveillance team, any other costs we incur. Maxim Yenen has terminated our contract.”

“I’m going to cover everything personally from here on,” Jack replied. He turned up the heating, which was preventing the windshield from misting over. “Maxim Yenen hired you to investigate a woman whose blog was just used by the people who killed Ernie Fisher to try to discredit Private’s investigation into the deaths of Karl Parker and Elizabeth Connor. I don’t know whether that was opportunism, or if the two investigations are connected. Until we have answers, we’re keeping both cases live.”

Dinara nodded. She didn’t dare ask what would happen after these cases. Partly because she didn’t want to add to Jack’s concerns, partly because she was afraid of the inevitable answer. Without clients, Private Moscow couldn’t stay in business. Dinara didn’t want to think about how she’d deal with what would be a serious personal and professional failure. Jobs like this were hard to come by, particularly for people who ran their last business into the ground.

“There he is,” Jack said, indicating Leonid’s old Niva, which was turning onto Rochdelskaya Street.

Leonid parked a few cars away, hurried over and climbed in the back. “Feo loaned you his truck?” he asked in Russian.

“For a price,” Dinara replied in English.

“Apologies,” Leonid said immediately. “I forgot you don’t speak Russian, Mr. Morgan.”

“My problem, not yours,” Jack responded. “So you caught Erik Utkin dealing drugs?”

Leonid nodded. “It seems so. I couldn’t see what was in the bag, but a couple of his fighters were definitely selling narcotics of some kind.”

“The Black Hundreds would punish him severely,” Dinara observed.

“Unless they’ve branched into new ways of making money,” Jack said.

Dinara shook her head. “Not these people. For them patriotism is bound up in the preconception of a wholesome life. God, country, family. Drugs would attack the very core of what they stand for.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time the actions of an organization like this don’t match its words,” Jack replied. “But let’s assume you’re right for now, unless we find anything to suggest otherwise.”

“What about Fisher?” Leonid asked.

“We think he had a safe somewhere in the city, possibly a warehouse similar to Karl Parker’s,” Jack replied. “We’re going to canvass his neighbors and nearby businesses to see if anyone remembers him. Find out if he’s got a place people saw him using. We’ll start here and spread out. Put his photo in front of enough people and someone will recognize him.”

“What’s our search radius?” Leonid asked.

“We start here and keep going until we find something,” Jack replied.

“The whole city?” Leonid remarked in disbelief.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” Jack said flatly. “But we keep going until Justine and the team in New York come up with a better angle.”

“What’s the matter?” Dinara goaded Leonid. “You’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?”

He replied in Russian.

“What did he say?” Jack asked.

“Something about how cold it is,” Dinara replied, frowning at the old cop. “The rest of his words I won’t translate, because they belong in the gutter.”

Jack laughed. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”