looked like a packing box beside a large oak desk. One side of the desk was covered with papers, but the pigeonholes on one side were all empty.
“Yes,” Gana declared, indicating that he had made a decision. He moved quickly into the kitchen and returned with a large coffee mug. Then he led Hannibal through the living room to the patio beyond.
The patio overlooked a modest swimming pool. Beyond that, a long terraced garden separated them from the back of the Petrova house. Gana opened the insulated carafe on the table and filled a mug for Hannibal, then filled his own that was already there.
“Yes, this is better than being cooped up in the house,” Gana said. “Now have a seat and tell me how I can help you.”
“Actually, I thought I might be able to help you,” Hannibal said. “I was in the area this morning to speak to Mrs. Petrova. When I was walking past this house it looked like you were having a bit of trouble with somebody.”
“That was minor,” Gana said, flashing a broad smile. Up close, his smile dazzled and his eyes twinkled with energy. “A little fender bender, actually. I did have to take my car in for repair after the incident.” He sipped his coffee, watching Hannibal over the edge of his cup.
“That I might be able to help you with,” Hannibal said. He pulled a card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Here’s a very good limousine service I often use when my car is in the shop. So, you don’t mind talking to me? I’d just like to know a little about your background.”
“I have nothing to hide from Hannibal Jones, the famous Washington troubleshooter. Ask me anything.”
“All right,” Hannibal said. “I’d like to know how you met the Petrovas but I’d also like to know how you know me.”
“I’ve known Viktoriya Petrova for years. She knows that I will give her love and a good life. And you are a professional, I know that much. So someone must have hired you. Who would want to investigate me?”
Hannibal sipped his coffee, then sipped again and smiled. “Very nice.”
“Isn’t that good?” Gana asked, crossing his legs. “I have it imported from Algeria. Did you know the Sufis made this drink so popular? Members of the Shadhiliyya order spread coffee drinking throughout the Islamic world back in the thirteenth century. A Shadhiliyya shaikh was introduced to coffee drinking in Ethiopia. To this day the shaikh is regarded as the patron saint of coffee-growers back home. In fact, in Algeria coffee is sometimes called shadhiliyye in his honor. ”
“I am familiar with the coffee of the region,” Hannibal said. “How do you know me?”
Gana watched the sun glint off the surface of the pool for a second before answering. “I will admit that when Mother Petrova told me that you planned to visit me I went to the computer and Googled you. Does this trouble you?”
“It’s all public knowledge,” Hannibal said, although it did make him a little uneasy. Had this man read the web log Cindy talked him into starting? He couldn’t say why that bothered him a bit, but now that he thought about it, it seemed odd that no one had done it before.
“And now to my question,” Gana said. “Who has hired you to check up on me? It is Ivanovich, isn’t it? Mother Petrova believes it is. You know, he is simply a jealous suitor who is a poor loser.”
The coffee was dark and rich. As he drank, Hannibal could see all that everyone else saw in Dani Gana. He saw the hypnotic lover who must have swept Viktoriya off her feet. He saw the suave gentleman who would impress any mother with a daughter of marrying age. And he could also see the dangerous risk taker and potential killer Ivanovich knew. The man was smooth as polished marble, but Hannibal would bet he could be just as hard. He returned Gana’s smile, still not sure which of them was the mongoose and which the snake.
“Sorry, I really can’t go around revealing the names of my clients. But surely this Ivanovich guy can’t be the only person on earth interested in you. Who else would want you investigated?”
Gana returned one loud, harsh laugh. “Very good, Mister Jones. But no, I don’t think it is in my best interests to offer you a list of my enemies.” Gana emptied his mug and set it down with a decisive thump. “In fact, I’m not so sure I should help you at all.”
Gana had uncrossed his legs and crossed them the opposite way, and was shaking one foot as he talked. Hannibal reflected that he had the makings of a charismatic leader and might well be a master of the boardroom and wonder in the financial business. He also considered that only a very thin line separated the charismatic leader from the expert confidence man.
“Surely, you’ll give me a chance to relieve any doubt Mrs. Petrova may have before you leave town, which I’ve noticed is likely to be soon.”
Gana rested his palms on the patio table and stood. “Mrs. Petrova has no doubts about me. She has already accepted me as her future son-in-law. And Viktoriya has no doubt of my love and dedication. I owe you and your mysterious client nothing. Yes, it is almost time for me and my Viktoriya to start our new life. I have some business in this city to clean up, but I can take care of it in a couple of days. That means that you have forty-eight hours to learn whatever you can learn, Mr. Jones. Perhaps you should get started now.”
6
Jamal Krada lived fifteen miles almost due north of Dani Gana’s house. Late morning traffic was surprisingly light for Hannibal. Driving up Wisconsin Avenue got him into Maryland. A short jog over to Connecticut Avenue let him cruise on up to Rockville, one of the District’s bedroom communities. Where else, Hannibal wondered, could a city be the county seat and third largest city in its state and still be considered a suburb?
After making great time up Connecticut, Hannibal lost it all wandering around Thistlebridge Road, Thistlebridge Drive, and Thistlebridge Way until he found the right address. Rolling into the driveway in front of the two-car garage on a quiet suburban street, Hannibal found himself reevaluating the worth of a degree in education. He wasn’t sure what kind of home he thought a college professor could afford, but he certainly didn’t think this two-story brick colonial would be on the list. Hannibal knew that the student body at Howard University was only about ten thousand strong. Almost all of them were African American and not at the top of the economic ladder. If this was typical of a Howard University professor’s home, he figured the faculty at Yale must drive Bentleys.
Hannibal pressed the button. Thirty seconds after he heard the chimes the door swept open and a hand thrust at him.
“You must be Hannibal Jones. Ms. Santiago has mentioned you from time to time. Jamal Krada. Very pleased to meet you, sir. Do come in.”
Krada drew Hannibal in and launched across the two-story foyer, past the center staircase and gourmet kitchen where a young woman busied herself gathering food. They settled in a separate breakfast room at a small table.
Krada was the kind of professor who could have held Hannibal’s attention. Energetic and enthusiastic, he seemed excited to have someone to talk to. His coloring matched Gana’s, although his eyes were softer and he wore a fan of wrinkles at their corners. His full head of hair was proudly white and cut in a conservative Western style.
“Professor Krada, thank you for talking to me,” Hannibal said. “I just wanted to ask you…”
Krada help up both index fingers like tiny stop signs. “Please. Food first. Nina!”
The woman in the kitchen moved forward, carrying a tray. She was average height but the kind of thin that made Hannibal think that if she had not been wearing that simple, natural colored shift, he could have counted her ribs. Her skin almost matched the natural cotton garment, and her hair was a darker shade of the same neutral color. She was pretty, but not in a way that jumped out at you. Her eyes were like those in some paintings that seem to follow you as you move around the room.
“Mr. Jones, this is my wife, Nina,” Krada said as she settled the tray on the table. Without a word she placed a bowl of soup, and a plate holding a sandwich in front of each of them.
“This looks great,” Hannibal said, pulling off his black driving gloves. “But you really didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”
“Nonsense,” Krada said, patting his woman on the backside. “You are a guest in my home. Still, it is nice to be appreciated, eh, Nina?”
