People Who Walk In Darkness

“Good.”

“I think he is planning to find the diamonds and try to sell them for himself,” she said.

“Evidence?”

“You know his history. Do I need evidence other than his manifestly dangerous and psychotic behavior in the past? I plan to retrieve the diamonds when he has them and remove him from temptation.”

There was but the slightest hint of reprimand in her voice. St. James had chosen Balta for this assignment in spite of her warning not to do so. Balta was a ticking bomb good for a quick assassination and nothing more. She had but hinted at her reservations. It did not do to contradict St. James.

“Even with the money he got from the courier he murdered, he still wants more,” said St. James. “He confirms my expectations about the human animal. I would have thought, however, that an assassin would have higher values than the majority of those on this planet.”

“Shall I eliminate him when I have the diamonds back?”

“You have enough support to confront him?”

“Yes,” she said. “Three men we have used before.”

“Good men?”

“Very bad men,” she said.

“Good,” said St. James. “Keep me informed.”

“I will.”

He hung up, and so did she.

There were several reasons he liked Ellen Sten. She was efficient, did not try to steal from him, and did what she was told, presenting only limited and infrequent advice. There was but one reason he did not like Ellen Sten. Her sense of humor. This was particularly annoying to St. James, who had discovered even as a child that he completely lacked a sense of humor.

As long as Ellen Sten continued to eliminate or deal with his more sticky problems, he could listen to her attempts at wit.

This was Elena’s first assignment following her almost two weeks in bed and another month of recovery while her arm returned to normal. She had been stabbed on a subway station platform when she and Iosef had attempted to arrest a crazy woman with a knife. The woman had plunged the blade deeply into Elena’s shoulder. Following emergency treatment in the hospital, Elena had gone back to the apartment she shared with her aunt Anna.

The agreement had been certain and clearly stated. Elena and Iosef were to be married as soon as she was healed and back to normal.

It had been clearly stated, but it had not taken place. She had now been back at work for almost two weeks and neither she nor Iosef had again spoken of marriage. The decision to be silent had been mutually agreed upon. They had both hesitated and were still hesitating.

Elena checked her watch. Sasha was to meet her in the lobby of the hotel where they would compare notes and then meet the policeman Jan Pendowski. Then they were to go in search of Oxana Balakona.

Except that there was no need for the search. Elena knew exactly where the model was staying in Kiev.

The lobby was not crowded. Elena had no trouble finding Sasha seated in a blue cushioned chair with gilded arms and back. He looked up at her, and she could see that he had had little if any sleep. His hair was unruly. He needed a shave. For an instant she thought that Sasha’s mother, Lydia of the loud voice, had been right. Her son might be better off in another line of work. He seldom looked happy. The best she had seen in months was a soulful self-pitying smile of resignation. His problems had taken on Jobian proportions. There were brief moments, even hours, of hope, as there had been the day before when they were coming to Kiev. Sasha had hoped that Maya would fall into his arms weeping with joy and agree to give him yet another chance and return to Moscow with the children. Such was not to be. He had told Elena very little of this, but it had been enough.

“So what is this news about a cafe you mentioned on the phone?” asked Sasha.

Elena was sitting at the end of a sofa that matched his chair.

“I grew tired of the good Sergeant Pendowski telling us nothing. I found a modeling agency and tracked down Oxana Balakona and went to her apartment building. It was not difficult.”

She paused, waiting for a reaction. None came.

“Are you not going to ask why I did not talk to Oxana Balakona when I found her?”

Sasha shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

“Why did you not talk to her when you found her?” he asked.

“Before I could go up to her apartment, I saw Pendowski in his car outside,” she said. “He was watching the building.”

“And you decided to watch him.”

“You are paying attention.”

“Nothing could interest me more.”

“I shall try to hold your interest,” she said. “I assumed he was there for the same reason I was, to question Oxana Balakona. Before I could get to his car, he got out and went into the building.”

Sasha was giving serious thought to either strangling or shouting at his partner. He was working out the script for when he saw his children and had another opportunity to talk to Maya.

“. . went into the building,” Sasha prompted.

He opened his eyes wide to demonstrate that he was wide awake and fully attentive. The result, however, was exactly the opposite.

“I waited and watched,” Elena continued. “He came out ten minutes later. I assumed he had confronted and spoken to her. Instead of getting into his car, Pendowski began walking. I followed him.”

“Why?” asked Sasha, knowing that he was supposed to ask.

“His actions were odd,” she said. But not as odd as yours, she thought.

“He walked for ten minutes to a cafe where Oxana Balakona and another woman were drinking coffee. He joined them and received a greeting of great familiarity.”

Sasha looked up, touched his tongue with the small finger of his right hand, and then examined the finger.

“Ten minutes inside the building?” he asked.

“Ten minutes,” she concurred.

“And she was not home.”

“She was not.”

“He entered her apartment and searched for. .”

“The diamonds perhaps?” she said.

“Nothing suspicious about that-besides the fact that he did not inform us as he agreed to do if he discovered anything or found her.”

Elena allowed herself not quite a smile but an inner satisfaction. She had engaged his interest.

“And then,” Sasha said, “Pendowski goes to the exact cafe where Oxana is having coffee with another woman. He knew where she was, knew she wasn’t home when he entered the apartment. What kind of embrace did they share?”

“Familiar,” said Elena.

“They are in some kind of alliance,” said Sasha.

“Precisely.”

“The other woman. Who is she?” he asked. “What did she look like?”

“A model I think. Very elegant.”

“Pretty?” asked Sasha.

Elena went into the canvas bag that served as purse, holster, and location for a collection of things edible and things forgotten. She came up with her digital camera, a gift from Iosef last year, on the anniversary of their engagement. She pushed a button three times and handed the camera to Sasha.

Sasha looked down at the image of Pendowski and the two women at the table.

“Pretty,” said Elena.

“Very. I’ve seen her somewhere before.”