Rogue Angel 51: The Pretender's Gambit (18 page)

Chapter 27

Annja ran to the end of the latest cargo container she was on and threw herself across a fifteen-foot wide space between that shop and the next. She landed hard and rolled, hoping that the distance was enough to give pause to the men following at her heels like hounds on a scent. She protected the elephant in her cupped right hand and rolled on her left shoulder, coming dangerously close to the two-story drop. The fall wouldn’t have killed her, but if she’d landed wrong she could have broken something.

Including the elephant.

She came to her feet as bullets drummed the metal roof of the cargo container next to her. Her backpack jerked and made it hard to get her rhythm back.

“Stop!” someone shouted. “Stop and we will not kill you!”

Annja already knew they weren’t going to kill her. They weren’t shooting their weapons enough to be taken seriously, and when they did fire them, the shots went wide enough that Annja knew they weren’t trying to hit her. If she’d thought they were still gunning for her, she would have dived from the shop rooftops and taken her chances on the ground. The only reason she hadn’t done that was because she didn’t want to put the shoppers at risk.

She ran and leaped again, noticing that the group running along the ground trying to keep up with her had fallen behind, mostly due to portable tables that had been placed out to expand some of the shops’ visible inventory.

The men atop of the roofs had fallen behind, too, but they weren’t giving up the chase.

When the current container car she was running along stopped and other container cars branched off in ninety-degree angles to both sides, she stayed to the right. Her backpack thumped against her and cut down on her speed, but in case she got separated from Klykov, she wanted her tools with her. Working quickly, she stowed the elephant in her backpack, tucking it into a T-shirt she had tucked away in there.

Glancing over her shoulder, she spotted the sedan that had been keeping pace with her suddenly swerve off to the side and speed up, obviously intending to get around the line of shops in front of it. That car had been one of the reasons she had chosen to go to the right.

Another salvo of bullets cut the air around Annja just as another alley between shops opened up. Instead of leaping to the next shop, she turned to the right again, let her feet go out from under her and slid toward the roof’s edge. She pressed her palms against the metal just hard enough to create friction to keep from skidding out of control over the side.

She dangled for just a second on the roof’s edge, hanging full length from her extended arms, then dropped to the ground. Bending her knees, she absorbed the shock and glanced around as the guys on the ground closed in on her. It was a chance she’d had to take if she was going to still have time to turn back and reach the front of the market where Klykov was hopefully waiting for her.

She pushed herself up and ran, exploding through a group of tables with barely any room to spare. The men on the ground charged after her, knocking over tables, shopkeepers and shoppers. The physical contact barely slowed them.

Annja got her bearings and angled away from them. She sprinted past three shops and almost saw the man lurking behind the fourth one in time to avoid him, but her speed kept her from moving away fast enough.

The man reached out and caught her around the throat before she had a chance to defend herself. Her momentum tore the man from his hiding place, but he kept his grip locked around her throat, shutting off her air supply and very nearly her blood flow.

Thrown off balance, Annja became tangled with the man when they hit the ground. The man was fast, and the backpack made her awkward. He thrust the muzzle of a gun up under her jaw and spoke in English.

“Stop struggling and I will not hurt you.”

Two other men jockeyed for positions to try to help the first man secure her. Annja lashed out with a foot and caught one of them in the groin, causing him to double over and hobble away. She slapped the first man’s pistol away with her hand and the weapon went off, missing her by inches but close enough to singe flesh.

Following up the slap, taking advantage of the man’s closeness, Annja kept driving her arm forward, bent it, then slammed her elbow into the man’s jaw.

He grunted in pain and sagged to the side. Annja rolled and pushed herself up, grimly aware that the third man had his weapon pointed at her.

“Stop!” he ordered. She understood him even though the command was in Portuguese. His knuckles whitened on the pistol.

Lunging forward, Annja reached into the
otherwhere
and brought out the sword. She swept it forward quickly and hammered the pistol in a side stroke that knocked it from the man’s hand. While he stood there gaping at her, she swung the sword again and caught him with the flat of the blade against his head. He dropped to the ground.

Before Annja could get clear of the area, her pursuers from the chase across the cargo container rooftops joined the battle. Annja stood there and gathered her courage. She was outnumbered and definitely outgunned. She held the sword in both hands, weighing her chances and not liking any of them.

A shadow stepped from a nearby alley between two of the container cars. Dressed in street casual, Annja didn’t recognize Nguyen Rao until the man slammed his staff into the back of the nearest man’s head. Reversing the staff, he took a two-handed grip on it and swung, connecting with the forehead of the man to the left of the first man he’d felled. The gunman’s eyes glazed and he fell backward, out on his feet.

Rao’s arrival threw the capture team off guard and they tried to set themselves to address the new threat. He whirled the staff, spinning it in his hands, then knocked one man’s front foot from under him, reversed the staff again and smashed him in the face. Nose broken and streaming blood, the man slumped backward, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Annja now worried for the museum curator, despite his amazing martial arts skills, as her attackers turned to face Rao.

She swung the sword to disarm the men first, not wanting to kill unless that was forced on her, unfortunately, bullets thudded into the unconscious man’s body and sprayed over the nearby shops, knocking a woman to the ground.

Knowing that hesitation on her part was going to get more people killed and she was not going to surrender either the elephant or herself, Annja stepped forward. As the man with the machine pistol spun toward her, Annja thrust with the sword and pierced his heart.

The man froze, eyes wide, and the pistol quivered there in his hands but didn’t fire.

Annja yanked her blade free and shifted her attention to two other men as they swiveled toward her with their weapons. Lifting the sword, she sliced through one man’s leg, then spun again as bullets ripped into the ground near her. One-handed, she threw the sword into the second man’s chest, taking him just under the throat and driving him backward.

Willing the sword to return to the
otherwhere
, Annja drew the weapon again on the run and took it in both hands, cutting deeply into a man as he fired his weapon indiscriminately. Blood flew and he slid into pieces.

In the rhythm of the close-quarters battle now, Annja let instinct and training take over. She cut another man’s hand, taking off a couple of fingers, but causing him to release his stuttering weapon. Moving forward, she drove the sword hilt against the man’s forehead, putting him out of his misery, then slashed another man in the side, shearing through his ribs. Dropping his weapon, screaming in fear and pain, the man fell, and yet tried to get up. He failed.

Only Nguyen Rao stood in front of her. Blood leaked down into one of the monk’s eyes as he held his staff ready to swing. His breathing was elevated, but Annja’s was, too. Frustration filled her from the deaths and injuries she had caused, but there had been no choice if she was going to save herself and the innocents standing around her.

“What have you done?” Rao looked horrified as he took in the carnage Annja had wrought.

“I’ve saved my life,” Annja replied, telling herself that as much as she was telling him. “Probably saved yours, too.”

“Killing is not good.”

“Getting killed is worse.”

The police sirens seemed closer.

Rao focused on her. “Give me the elephant.”

“Why?”

“You do not need to know.”

“I want to know.”

“This is not your concern, Miss Creed.”

“I’ve had people trying to kill me for days,” Annja replied. “I’ve had to kill people. It
is
my concern now.”

Rao lashed out with the staff with blinding speed. If Annja had been any slower, the weapon would have caught her in the face. As Rao set himself and tried to pull the weapon back to him, probably for another attempt, Annja slashed with the blade and hacked the staff in half only inches in front of Rao’s hand.

The sliced-off section of staff dropped to the ground between them. Rao started to dart forward anyway, but Annja kept the sword between them.

“Don’t,” she ordered, holding the blade level as she pointed it at him.

Rao quivered for just a second, then he stepped back and bowed his head in surrender.

Annja ran toward the front of the market, unable to keep Rao from following her. People ahead of her drew out of her way, ducking back into their shops or the alleys between them. One man held an assault rifle in a doorway. For a moment Annja thought she was going to have to fight for her life again, but the man only nodded at her and never raised his weapon.

Klykov was waiting in the SUV where he’d said he would be, near the first shops in the market and on a patch of grass just off the road. The window was rolled down and he extended a pistol out.

Annja glanced over her shoulder and saw only Rao trailing after her.

“Don’t shoot him!” Annja shouted.

Klykov gave no indication of hearing her and fired two rounds.

Annja stumbled as she spun around, expecting to see Rao falling dead. Instead, the museum curator had taken shelter behind a shop. Rao hadn’t been hit, and she didn’t think Klykov would have missed at that distance.

She ran around the SUV, willing the sword back to the
otherwhere
, and slinging her backpack off in one hand. She opened the door and heaved herself in as Klykov got the vehicle rolling. Storing the backpack between the seats, Annja looked back at the market and saw Rao emerging from hiding with a look of disgust.

“Get down!” Klykov warned as he cut his gaze over at Annja.

Leaning back in her seat, bracing her feet against the floorboard, Annja spotted a long sedan hurtling at them. Klykov fired five times in rapid succession. The bullets shattered the window, but they also ripped the sedan’s front left tire to shreds. The driver lost control of the vehicle as it slewed to the side. Another sedan that had been following the first one too close smashed into the lead car.

Klykov pulled the SUV back out onto the main highway just as gray coupes with blue and yellow stripes and police insignia made the turn into the market. Their sirens were loud and filled the SUV’s interior, but Annja couldn’t hear over the thick cottony ringing in her ears from Klykov’s pistol.

His foot heavy on the accelerator, Klykov watched the road. “You are well, Annja?”

“I am. Thank you.”

“Who is man you had me not shoot?”

“I’m not sure exactly.” Annja sat up and pulled her seat belt on. “He was in New York, too.”

“He is trailing the elephant?”

“I think so.”

“Because he had to have some way to find you here.”

“Maybe he followed Onoprienko.”

“Why did you not let me shoot him?”

“Because I’m not sure how he fits into all of this yet.”

Klykov grunted and shook his head. “Is problem, that is what he is. If he was in New York, then again here, he is not one to give up.”

“I know. I got that impression, too.”

“I should have killed him anyway. You are too tenderhearted for your own good. That kindness will one day get you killed.”

“Really?” Now that the action was over, Annja felt the aftereffects of the adrenalin rush and was winding down tiredly. “As I recall, you offered to help me—out of kindness—and have nearly gotten killed twice.”

“You should do as I say, not as I do.” Klykov shrugged. “Besides, I have lived long, full life.”

“You’ve got some years left.”

“True, but I do not wish for them to be boring years.”

“Do we have Onoprienko?”

“In the back.”

“Good, then let’s see if we can rendezvous with Bart’s go-betweens and get him off our hands.” Annja took her satellite phone from her backpack, looked up the number and placed the call.

Chapter 28

“Stanislav mentioned that someplace called the Seventh-Kilometer Market experienced a violent shoot-out today.” Bart sounded peeved.

Annja looked at the small sedan and the two Interpol agents currently securing Onoprienko in the back of the vehicle. She decided Stanislav, the taller, young agent of the two, was a blabbermouth. “There was an incident.”

“The story’s gone viral, Annja. I keep waiting for your name to crop up.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

Bart sighed unhappily. “They tell me you got Onoprienko.”

“We did. Klykov and me.” Annja wanted to make certain credit was given where credit was due.

Klykov sat in the SUV and kept his distance from the international law enforcement people. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel impatiently while he listened to the radio.

“The old guy’s still hanging in there, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I gotta admit, I’m impressed.”

“He’s an impressive guy. If he hadn’t been with me today, you wouldn’t be getting Onoprienko.”

“I’m glad of that at least. What about you? Where are you off to next?”

“Moscow. I’ve been in touch with Tanechka Chislova, the granddaughter of Asaf Chislova, the man who’d been renting the storage unit. She put me in touch with a cousin of hers who lives in Moscow and knows more of the elephant’s history.”

“She couldn’t tell you what the elephant was over the phone?”

“She doesn’t know. All she knows is that it belonged to her grandfather.” That lack of knowledge had disappointed Annja, but at least she’d introduced her to Nadia Silaevae, who was more than happy to reveal the story of the elephant as far as she knew it. She even had documents to prove the authenticity of the piece and the story, which she was willing to share with Annja, and explained why Annja was en route to Moscow as soon as she and Klykov could get moving.

“If Nadia Silaevae doesn’t know what the elephant is, why bother to talk to her?”

“Because she has information about where the elephant has been, documents that came from around the same time the elephant was first brought into her family. When you work a case, you depend on witnesses and informants. My job demands that I resource the same kind of people. Although, a lot of it is just boring and repetitious.”

“Like police work. Ninety-nine percent boredom, one percent fear.”

“I’d say that sums it up. Only you can replace fear with excitement of discovery. This is just…different. At any rate, you should be seeing Onoprienko again in a couple days when Interpol hands him off, and I’ve got to be going.”

“All right. Take care of yourself, Annja.” There was enough of a hesitation in his response that she knew he didn’t want to just hang up and let her go. That came out of his feelings of responsibility, though, and maybe just a little protectiveness. Bart had become a policeman, and then a detective, to help people. That was hardwired into his DNA.

“Definitely. You do the same.” Annja broke the connection and slipped the phone into her coat pocket as Stanislav walked over to her.

“We are ready to transport prisoner. Bart wanted me to ask you one more time if you wanted us to bring you back home.”

“No,” Annja replied. “I don’t let anyone
bring
me anywhere. That’s never going to happen unless it’s at gunpoint. And you told Bart about the shooting in the Seventh-Kilomenter Market.”

Stanislav lifted his eyebrows. “You
were
involved in that, correct?”

Annja shook her head at the man. “Ratting me out to Bart. That’s bad, Stan.” She turned and left him standing there, her thoughts were already turned to Moscow.

* * *

S
EQUEIRA
SPIELED
A
simple story, and he told it more than once. He knew he was going to get out of dealing with any real trouble. He’d brought bribe money for just that occasion. Except that now, after he’d started spreading that cash around, the Odessa police were attempting to hang onto him longer.

YOU PAID TOO QUICKLY AND TOO MUCH
, Brisa texted.

Seated in the back of the police car, Sequeira watched the world around him. Being in the back of a police vehicle was a new experience for him. That hadn’t happened since he’d been a teenager, and he’d gloried in it then because his arrests had irritated his father so much.

Now he was in a hurry to get back after Annja Creed. Thankfully the locator was still pinging its GPS coordinates to Brisa’s tracking device. In addition to the police, other emergency vehicles had joined in to take care of the wounded. There were a lot of those, and they were proving to be more costly than Sequeira had suspected.

I WAS TRYING TO GET OUT OF THERE
, Sequeira texted back.
I SUCCEEDED IN NOT BEING ARRESTED IMMEDIATELY, BUT I AM BEING DETAINED.

YOU’LL HAVE TO PAY THEM MORE MONEY OR THREATEN TO GET THE PORTUGAL EMBASSY INVOLVED.

WHICH COURSE OF ACTION WOULD BE BEST?

BRIBE ONE OF THE SENIOR OFFICIALS ONSITE. PAY HIM DIRECTLY THROUGH AN ELECTRONIC FUND TRANSFER. IT WILL COST YOU MORE MONEY THAN YOU HAVE ON YOU, BECAUSE THE WAY THEY’RE LOOKING AT IT, THEY ALREADY HAVE THAT MONEY. THE SENIOR OFFICIAL ALSO KNOWS THAT MONEY HAS TO BE SPLIT WITH THE OTHERS. PAY HIM AND HE WILL GET YOU OUT OF THERE.

YOU ARE STILL FOLLOWING ANNJA CREED?

OF COURSE. SHE’S HEADED BACK TO THE AIRPORT.

WHY?

I WOULD THINK TO TAKE A PLANE.

Sequeira cursed quietly.
WHERE IS SHE GOING?

I AM NOT A MIND READER. THAT’S WHY I PUT THE TRACKING DEVICE ON HER. WE WILL FIND HER. DO NOT WORRY.

Sequeira was worried, though. Brisa didn’t know any of the stories about the elephant or what it might lead to. That knowledge was Sequeira’s alone. He put the phone in his pocket and opened the car door to get out.

“Sir.” The policeman assigned to the vehicle put a hand on the door to restrain Sequeira. “You must remain in the vehicle.” He spoke English with a heavy accent.

“Let me speak to the man in charge of this operation.” Sequeira remained outside the vehicle.

“Get back in the car.”

“If I don’t talk to your commanding officer now, there’ll be no more money. I will call the embassy and things will go very bad for him, and for you. And I believe that if the commanding officer finds out you refused to let me speak with him he will be upset, and he will direct that at you.”

The man frowned, but he obviously understood the ramifications of both threats. “Wait here.”

Sequeira shrugged.

The policeman walked toward a police car parked in the middle of the road to the market and spoke to someone through the window. After a moment, he stepped back and the door opened.

A tall man in a pristine uniform emerged from the vehicle. He paused to tug at his gloves, then reached back into the car and retrieved his hat. His face seemed more bone than flesh, but didn’t look emaciated, just hard. The dark eyes looked intelligent. He walked over to join Sequeira.

“I am Captain Savenko. There is a problem?” he asked.

“Yes, there is a problem. I do not want to be held here any longer. I have many things to do, and you and your men are keeping me from them.”

“You and your men were involved in several shootings.”

“Only to protect ourselves.”

Savenko smiled thinly, and his almost lipless mouth drained the expression of any warmth. “A funny thing, that. According to the interviews my men have conducted, and are conducting, most people in the market remember you and your group as being the attackers.”

Keeping a straight face, Sequeira said, “Obviously they are mistaken. Witnesses, as you know, can be horribly unreliable.”

“It has been my experience,
da
. This is why I always do a thorough investigation. So my superiors do not question my ability to do my job.”

Sequeira understood then. Savenko didn’t want to release him and his men too early because his superiors would know he had been paid off handsomely.

“Then let me pay you again. Privately.” Sequeira took out his phone. “Give me a bank account you wish to receive the money in and I will put twenty thousand euros there in minutes. Your superiors can only guess at that money.”

Savenko didn’t go for the deal immediately.

“Otherwise, I will contact the Portuguese Embassy and ask that they intercede on my behalf,” Sequeira said. “I assure you, captain, they will intercede.” Bribery was an international commerce. Favors and cash greased wheels everywhere. “Then things will become even more messy for your superiors.”

The captain smiled again and tilted his head. “Of course. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Sequeira accessed his bank account through his phone and then moved money around. He’d already paid thousands of dollars to smooth the situation over. Money like that was only a drop in the bucket to what he had and how much money he had coming in from his various legitimate and illegitimate businesses. He could even have managed millions easily.

Savenko checked his own phone and accounts, confirming the transfer. “I will have you and your men released within minutes, Mr. Sequeira. Obviously you were a target of a kidnapping attempt gone very wrong.”

“Obviously. There is one more thing you can do for me, captain. Now that I have been so generous.”

Savenko didn’t reply.

“A small thing that will require you only making a phone call.”

“What?”

“I need to know where Annja Creed is flying.”

“Who is Annja Creed?”

“An American. She was here at the market today, and she was involved in this.” Sequeira pointed at his wrecked sedan. “She was the one who shot my car.”

Savenko’s face grew harder than Sequeira would have believed possible. “Why am I only now hearing of this person?”

Sequeira ignored the question. “Can you help me or not?”

Without a word, Savenko took out his phone and began dialing.

“Would it be possible to have Annja Creed held at the airport?” Sequeira asked.

The captain shook his head. “Not without a proper warrant.”

“She was part of the situation here.”

“If I have her held at the airport, then I must hold you now. Someone must testify against her.”

Sequeira reconsidered his options. If Annja Creed were taken into custody, and if she had the elephant on her, it would be held as evidence. Getting the piece away from Odessan police impound might be difficult, and that choice would definitely delay his efforts to resolve the mystery the elephant posed.

“On second thought, if you can, Captain, just find out where she’s going. A bonus could be arranged for your trouble.”