Ninchenko reached for his cell phone.
“ Dobre utra…Dobre…Kak dyela? ”
Ninchenko glanced at Gage. “Apparently it was a little chilly last night.” Then spoke into his phone again, “ Donde esta? ”
Gage’s head snapped toward Ninchenko. “That ain’t Russian, Pancho.”
“ Eso es correcto, mi amigo,” Ninchenko said, grinning. “My helper was stationed in Spain during the late 1980s. He taught me a few words.” He listened again, then told Gage, “They’re on the hill above the menagerie. They can see Alla’s room. It’s on the top floor at the end of the wing closest to where they are. She turned on the lights and opened the curtains last night hoping someone would spot her. It looks like she believed you when you said you’d station people close by…and Gravilov’s car is still in the garage, so he hasn’t left yet.”
After bidding his man adios, Ninchenko walked back to the van to retrieve a thermos of coffee while Gage sat down, leaning back against a tree with a clear view toward the dacha and the Dnepr River just beyond. Through the binoculars, he watched a rusting six-hundred-ton cargo ship pass by, guided downstream by a small tugboat. Crewmen stood on the deck in surplus Russian Navy overcoats and gray lambskin ushanka s with flaps pulled hard against their ears. The horn sounded as it approached a bend in the river, the moan seeming less to fade than simply be absorbed by the heavy brush along the shore, the forest beyond, and the low clouds that hovered above the valley.
His cell phone rang as Ninchenko walked up from behind and handed him a cup of coffee.
“This is my second kidnapping this week,” Alla said.
Gage smiled at Ninchenko and gestured with his cup at the dacha.
“Technically speaking, you ran into me, so you sort of kidnapped yourself the first time.”
“Have I called you a fucking American yet?”
“At least once.”
“I hope you’re damn close by.”
“Did you look out of your window this morning?”
“Yes.”
“You see the cages?”
“Yes.”
“What’s inside?”
“All I can see are wild pigs, antelopes, bears, and disgusting-looking hyenas.”
“When a bear growls or a pig snorts or a hyena does whatever a hyena does, we’ll both hear it.”
“I’m glad you gave me that little phone. They snatched mine.”
“Where’d you hide it?”
“Guess. Stuart always tried to get me to wear a thong. It’s a good thing I refused.”
“What happened last night?”
“Stuart pretended he didn’t know what Gravilov was going to do, but he can’t act. They cooked it up together. My guess is that they’ll keep me here until Stuart brings the other software from the States, except…”
“Except what?”
“I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“Doesn’t make a difference.”
“It makes a hell of a lot of difference to me. I didn’t come back to Ukraine for Gravilov to turn me into hyena food.”
“We’ll come get you as soon as Matson arrives in the U.S.”
“Unless they ground the planes. I’m not sure he’ll even make it as far as London.”
“The planes will fly. A lot of newly appointed diplomats are looking to get out.”
“What if…I mean…” The nervous edge was back in her voice. She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“There’ll be two men on the hill above the menagerie all the time you’re here-and if Gravilov moves you they’ll be on your tail. Ninchenko will give you their cell number in a minute. But first, what’s security like?”
“I don’t know. They covered my eyes when they brought me in, but I don’t think there’s much. I didn’t hear many people talking. A woman brings me food. She looks like one of those unisex Bulgarian weightlifters. I can’t tell whether she wants to break me in two or have sex with me-or both.”
“Is there a way down from your room on the outside?”
“I’d need wings. They took the sheets off the bed so I couldn’t make them into a rope.”
“We’ll get you out in a way that doesn’t require flight.”
“You better. You got me into this.”
“No, you got yourself into it. I just gave you a rather complicated way out.”
An hour later Ninchenko and Gage were following a quarter mile behind Gravilov’s Mercedes as he and Hammer rode toward Dnepropetrovsk.
“It makes me a little nervous that he left Razor behind,” Gage said. “Guys like him derive sexual pleasure from their work. He may do something preemptive.” He glanced at Ninchenko. “What do you know about him?”
“Hammer recruited him for Gravilov in Chechnya at the end of the first war in ’96. He worked for warlords and maffiya. The rumor was that if he didn’t need to eat, he would’ve worked for free.”
“Why would he give it up?”
“Too many enemies at home and age, probably. He’s in his early forties now. But don’t underestimate him. Gravilov keeps him close because he believes Razor is still at the top of his game. And Gravilov’s life depends on him.”
“He sure looks the part, with his face twisted like that, his nose angling off to the side. When I saw him in London I felt like reaching out and straightening it.”
“Not a good idea. It would be the last thing you ever did with that hand.”
Gravilov’s Mercedes was already parked by the time Ninchenko and Gage arrived at a spot on the street with a view of the Grand Domus Hotel.
“I wish we had the van,” Ninchenko said. “We’re kind of exposed sitting here.”
Gage glanced over. “If anybody pays attention to us, feel free to kiss me. I won’t tell your wife.”
“I’m not married.”
“Good. I think Alla is looking for a new boyfriend.”
“It won’t be me. She’s already complained that she keeps picking the same type over and over, first her ex- husband and now Matson, and I don’t think I match the profile.” Ninchenko nodded toward the hotel entrance. “It looks like the wire transfer went through.”
Gravilov and Matson were walking down the hotel steps, preceded by the driver and followed by Hammer, carrying Matson’s luggage.
“We just need to babysit Matson until he gets on the plane,” Gage said, “then put our plan into effect to rescue Alla.”
“Which plan was that?”
Gage looked over. “I was afraid you’d ask that.”
CHAPTER 72
I n the early evening, Hixon One was reclining in his car listening to a motivational tape about how to succeed in small business and watching the entrance to Matson’s London flat. Rain was ticking lightly on the windshield. He cracked the window open as a defense against his damp breath condensing on the windshield and blocking his view. His eyes flinched when an occasional gust sprayed droplets through the gap.
He watched as a red cab drove toward him, then stopped in front of the building. Matson stepped out, dragging his luggage behind him. Hixon One saw him hand the driver a few bills, then wave off the change. As the driver rolled up his window Matson turned away, then spun back, knocking on the side of the cab. The cabbie rolled the window back down, listened for a moment, then handed something to Matson.
Hixon One sealed up his car, jumped out, and hustled across the street. As soon as the cab switched on its
