The Romanov Ransom

18

Remi held her breath as scattered raindrops hit the pavement, somehow missing the lit cigarette. A muffled discussion followed, some of it sounded like German, at least from the bit that Remi heard, then, “How do I know everything’s there?”

“You have my word,” Sam replied. “Everything we found is there. A map, two letters, and an old tin with a typewriter ribbon.”

Another muffled discussion, then Gere saying, “He’s coming out the front door.”

The skies let loose, soaking the pavement. Remi hoped they weren’t paying attention. Finally, the door opened. She pressed slightly on the trigger, ready. When a man stepped out, his hands up, Sam said, “It’s Zakaria.”

She moved her finger from the trigger but kept aim on the doorway, scanning the windows above, as Zakaria walked toward Sam’s car, then ran the rest of the way, into the front passenger seat. Sam shifted the car into reverse, then backed toward Remi.

Gun out, she sidestepped to the car and got in the backseat. Sam hit the gas, tires squealing as he backed away. Just before he turned the corner, Remi caught sight of two men running through the pouring rain, one with a gun pointed their direction, the other going straight to the courier bag.

Sam looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Nice shooting, Mrs. Fargo.”

“You think they’ll be upset when they discover it’s really iced tea in that bottle?”

“I guess that depends on whether they try to light it or drink it.” Sam glanced at Zakaria. “You okay, my friend?”

He nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come for me.”

Though the inside of their car was dark, Remi could tell his lower lip was swollen, and there was dried blood below his nose and mouth.

“I’m curious,” Sam said. “How’d all this happen, to begin with?”

Remi, noticing Zakaria taking a shaky breath, said, “Why don’t we get him back to his cousin’s house, give him a chance to rest up a bit, before we start grilling him.”

The following morning, Sam paced the courtyard, looking at his watch. “How much sleep does a guy need before he gets up?”

“Considering what he went through,” Remi said, “we can forgive him for sleeping in.” She was seated on a bench beneath the palm, enjoying the morning sun that angled into the courtyard over the eastern roof, lighting up the fountain in the center.

Lina walked in, her smile kind when she addressed Sam. “Zakaria asked me to give his apologies and to let you know he’s on his way down.”

When he showed a few minutes later, his face still bruised, his lower lip slightly less swollen than last night, Sam stopped his pacing. “You’re up.”

Zakaria smiled, then winced at the pain it caused him. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No worries,” Remi said as Sam took a seat next to her. “It’s not like we have anything going on this morning.”

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” Zakaria pulled up a wrought iron chair and sat across from them. “I know I already thanked you, but—”

“No thanks needed,” Sam interjected. “We’re glad we could help.”

Lina excused herself so that they could talk in private.

Zakaria glanced back, checking to make sure they were alone, before saying, “This is my fault. I realize that now. After I saw you had found Karl and Brand, I texted Durin to let him know the search was successful. I told him that you were on your way back.” He gave a deep sigh. “I swear, I had no idea what he was up to or I’d never have let him know anything.”

That explained the timing of it all, Remi thought, as Sam asked, “What happened?”

“Maybe a half hour after I texted, Durin and this other man, Gere, drove up. For them to arrive that quickly meant that they must have been well on their way at the time they got my text.”

Remi glanced toward Sam, certain he had to be thinking the same thing she was. That Durin had intended to ambush them all along. Probably to protect his secret, that he’d already been out to the plane and found the courier bag.

Zakaria absently touched his bruised cheek as he continued his story. “Durin’s friend had an assault rifle slung across his back. I saw another rifle in the car. I–I was shocked. Confused… And Durin had this wild look in his eye, and I realized I had to get out of there. But he caught up to me. The next thing I knew, he’s smashing me across my face. He kept asking what we’d found in the plane. When I told him I hadn’t gone out there with you, he accused me of lying, and his friend tied my hands behind my back, forcing me into their car.”

“Did you hear any of their conversation?” Sam asked.

“Some. They were speaking mostly German. Too fast for me to understand more than a few words here and there. One I kept hearing was Lösegeld.”

“Ransom,” Remi translated.

He nodded. “That must be it. Durin told me they were going to hold me for ransom.”

“What about who they worked for?” Sam asked. “Can you tell us anything about the people he was involved with?”

“I heard a name… Rol… Rolfe…” He stared off into the distance a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I’m certain that’s the name I heard. I think he’s the one who came in and tried to get Durin’s address from me. And demanded to know where the courier bag was. Big, bald man in a fancy suit. That’s all I can tell you about him.”

Sam pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at a text message on the screen. “We need to get going,” he said to Zakaria. “You’re sure you’ll be okay here?”

“Definitely. Kadin might look harmless, but he’s not. No one’s getting past the front door.”

He walked them out, thanking them again for coming to his aid, and promised to call if he remembered anything else that might be useful.

Remi waited until they were at the car to ask Sam about the text.

“It’s from Selma,” he said. “She thinks that one of the two letters found in the pouch might be in code.”

“She give you any idea what it said?”

“That’s what we’re about to find out.”