happened while he was a student at Howard. First, he met and fell in love with a Russian girl named Viktoriya Petrova. When she dropped out of college he got a part-time job at the Russia House here in the city, where her family socialized. There he met a money launderer for the Red Mafiya named Boris Tolstaya.”
Mrs. Barek made a dismissive noise by puffing air through her lips. “This is an evil man. I cautioned Hamed when he came home. But a woman cannot choose her son’s friends.”
“Well, Mr. Tolstaya involved your son in his schemes, which involved moving cash out of the U.S. and effectively making it disappear through the use of foreign banks.”
Mrs. Barek slapped a palm on the table. “This is when Hamed came home. He was a new man, ambitious and smart. Mr. Jones, I would not normally reveal so much to a stranger, but I feel that the more you know, the more likely I am to get to the truth. So you should know tht I used what influence I had to move Hamed into a diplomatic position. But then, on a scheduled trip back to the United States he disappeared again.”
“Right,” Hannibal said. “I figure he must have purchased false documents in advance. He left home as Hamid Barek headed for this building, but he arrived as Dani Gana from Algeria. He also arrived with a quarter million dollars. Someone killed him for that money, but I don’t know who.”
“Did he suffer?”
“Ma’am, the murderer shot him twice with a small-caliber handgun.”
“But was it quick at least?”
Hannibal felt he owed her the truth. “I’m sorry, but it was not quick. It was mean and amateurish. After being shot once, your son left the house he was in, apparently to lead the killer away from his wife and the money, which he had withdrawn from the bank. This was money that Boris Tolstaya had given him to launder. It appears that his only reason for returning to the United States was to win this girl he was in love with. The girl, Viktoriya, would not marry him without her mother’s blessing. He stole the money from Tolstaya to show his prospective mother-in-law how prosperous and successful he was. I believe now that he intended to take his new wife home with him.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Barek said. “I appreciate your frankness. However, I’m afraid you are wrong on one point. My son is not a thief.” Her face was set in stone. It was like staring into the visage of the sphinx.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but where do you think he got such a sum?”
Her black eyes burrowed into Hannibal’s. This was what he felt when he faced her son days ago. When she spoke, it was clear that it was to be the final declaration on the subject.
“I do not know. He is gone now, and cannot defend himself or explain his actions. But I know the money was not stolen because my son was not a thief.”
Hannibal thought maybe he understood. There was the truth and there was the truth. Whatever was said about Hamed Barek after this conversation would become the truth. She was now the childless woman of a childless son. His reputation would live as his only legacy forever and would represent his family forever. Hannibal sat back and sipped his tea. Her eyes were hard but they were also pleading. He had to stand his own obsessive dedication to the truth against her obsessive dedication to her family’s public image. Plus, he knew that offending her would end his chances of getting any further information from her. When he spoke, it was with unusual delicacy, stepping through a minefield of words, looking for safe footing.
“It could be,” he said, “that matters have become confused. After all, Hamed Barek was an honored member of your foreign service. It could be that in fact an Algerian named Dani Gana stole money from the Russian mob. But somehow your son was killed for that money. If the funds were recovered, this mystery could be put to rest.”
Mrs. Barek nodded and smiled, the sphinx transformed to Mona Lisa. “You are unusually wise for such a young man. But still, you don’t know all. Hamed was not killed for this money. This money is not lost.”
It took Hannibal a moment to wrap his brain around her words. “You?”
She smiled again.
“How?”
“A large package arrived at my home, delivered by diplomatic courier. American bills, one hundred dollar denominations, totaling more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Hamed sent the money home through the embassy.”
“Yes, but Viktoriya…” Hannibal cut himself off. Viktoriya had implied that Hamed/Dani left with the money after he was shot or that the killer took the money. But did she ever actually see a suitcase full of cash? A few thousand on top of a duffel bag full of clothes would have looked the same to her. Hamed may have kept that much for show money, and simply led her to believe that he had all of it with him, rather than tell his new bride that he had sent his fortune home to mama.
“Yes, Viktoriya, that tramp,” Mrs. Barek said.
“He told you about her?” Hannibal said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
“I know little,” Mrs. Barek said, her pain and sorrow temporarily morphing into anger and resentment. “Hamed loved her, and said he needed to take her away from the bad influences here in America. Bad influences. This girl was not good enough for my son.”
“I understand,” Hannibal said. What woman is ever good enough in a mother’s eyes?
“Do you?” she asked, her voice rising. “Do you? Do you know that Hamed saw her father beaten to death by this gangster Tolstaya? This man was married, but he wanted this Viktoriya for himself. One of her jilted suitors was a hired killer. Hamed even suspected her of having an affair with one of her college professors. Hamed is as likely to have been killed over this slut’s affections as he is to have died for money.”
Hannibal closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. When he opened them he was looking past the outraged mother facing him. The random bits swirling in his mind had just settled into a pattern as puzzles always do if you push the pieces around long enough. But this time, the pattern had little to do with organized crime.
“Viktoriya Petrova has been at the center of this whole affair from the moment I was dragged into,” he said, almost to himself. “but men rarely kill for a woman’s affection. Besides, I can assure you, just from the methodology, that your son’s death was not the work of any professional assassin. And the gangster, Boris Tostaya, is in the end stages of a nerve disease called ALS. He simply is not strong enough to have chased your son down and shot him, even if he could have somehow found him.”
“And the professor?” Mrs. Barek asked.
“Actually, he has no morning classes,” Hannibal said, “And his schedule appears to be pretty flexible. It hardly makes any sense. But the pattern. The pattern is there.” Hannibal jumped to his feet, an abrupt move that caused Mrs. Barek to draw back. “I’m sorry ma’am, but I need to go now. I have no proof but if what I suspect turns out to be true, then the Russian Mafia is the biggest red herring in history, and the danger might not be over after all.”
“You mean this girl Viktoriya, don’t you?” Mrs. Barek said. “If she’s the reason my Hamid is dead, then I would be glad if the worst happened to her. But it is more important that my son’s killer be brought to justice. If you manage this, the government of Morocco will be very grateful. And this mother will be personally grateful and will reward you for your diligence.”
“Let’s talk about that after we’ve proven who the killer is,” Hannibal said. He hesitated, not sure of the proper way to end this interview. Should he take her hand again? Bow? Maybe if he simply asked to be excused, that would do.
Fatima Barek solved his problem by simply waving him out of the room. “Go and do what you have to do. I hope that if you are able to find the truth, you will contact me through the embassy. I need to know.”
Hannibal nodded, pushed his Oakleys back into place, and hurried out of the embassy, stopping only to collect his Sig Sauer automatic. He had a feeling that he might need it soon.
34
Hannibal’s tires squealed as he locked up his brakes and jerked to a stop in Jamal Krada’s driveway. In the thirty seconds or so after he pushed the doorbell, he tapped his foot and his body shook as if it was idling roughly. His thoughts during the short drive had been dark and chaotic, as he reviewed and fumed about the many tiny clues he had walked past in the last few days.
When Nina Krada opened the door, her eyes flared wide. Hannibal realized that she had never seen him in
