working all day in the hot sun. His eyes were intense and focused. He patted Jones on the shoulder as he walked toward the guest wing. His gesture was a simple one, but it let Jones know that everything had been taken care of and he was all right.
Then, without saying a single word, Payne closed and locked the guest room door.
The sound of running water soon filled the hallway.
Forty minutes later, Payne emerged a new man. He had showered and changed his clothes. A smile was on his face, and his stomach was growling. He strolled into the kitchen looking for something to eat, finding nothing but a bowl of fruit left over from breakfast. He grabbed an apple and walked toward the dining room table, where Jones and Allison were working.
“What have we learned?” Payne wondered.
Jones answered. “We went through Byrd’s planner and one name stood out: Ivan Borodin, the former director of the Hermitage Museum. We don’t know what they were discussing, but we assume it was Schliemann. Ivan was in charge of the Schliemann exhibit before he retired.”
Payne pondered the information. “Is that why Byrd came to town, to meet with Ivan?”
“That would be my guess, but we don’t know for sure. It fits the time line, though.”
“What do we know about him?”
“We have his home phone and address. Oh, and the guy is eighty-eight years old.”
“Damn. How long ago did he retire?”
“Only eight years.”
“He retired at eighty? That explains why Byrd wanted to talk to him. He must know the location of the fountain of youth.”
Jones smiled. “You might be onto something. I searched the Internet and came up with several articles about his career. Ivan devoted most of his life to the Hermitage. He worked there for over sixty years, starting out as a tour guide and working his way up through the ranks. You rarely see that type of dedication anymore.”
“Sixty years in one place? That’s plenty of time to learn a lot of secrets.”
“We were thinking the same thing.”
“How many times did they meet?”
Allison entered the conversation. “We don’t know. Ivan’s name and number appeared several times in Richard’s planner, but he never mentioned his name to me.”
“We have his number, right? Why don’t we give him a call?”
Jones nodded. “We planned on it. I was just waiting to get your approval.”
On the surface, it seemed like a straightforward comment. But Payne knew otherwise. He had worked with Jones long enough to know he wasn’t requesting permission to make a phone call. He was asking Payne if he wanted to continue their investigation. As things stood, Byrd’s killer had been taken care of and Allison was temporarily safe. One quick call to Jarkko and the thirsty Finn would have them drinking Kafka in international waters in less than an hour.
For the time being, that option didn’t interest Payne. Not until they solved the mystery of Byrd’s death. What was Byrd looking for that was so important?
Payne needed to know before he was willing to leave Russia.
“Make the call,” Payne said, “but have Allison do the talking.”
“What?” she stammered. “Why me?”
“Because you were Byrd’s assistant. Maybe he didn’t tell you about Ivan, but he might have told Ivan about you. Besides, your voice is slightly less threatening than ours.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Allison,” he said, not in the mood to argue, “you’re making the call.”
Before she did, Payne and Jones coached her on what to say, anticipating the questions about Richard that were sure to come. If possible, they wanted to meet with Ivan immediately. With the Russian’s advanced age, they figured he probably wouldn’t have a hectic social calendar. In fact, he might even welcome some company. The goal, though, was to meet with him face-to-face, whether that was at his home or at the museum. And the sooner the better.
Allison turned on the speakerphone so Payne and Jones could listen in. Ringing filled their suite until Ivan answered.
“Hello? Is this Ivan Borodin?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Allison. I’m Richard’s assistant.”
“Richard Byrd?”
Allison exhaled. She was glad that Byrd had used his real name, not one of his fake identities. That would make things so much easier. “Yes, sir. I’m his assistant.”
“I was expecting him on Sunday. He never showed up.”
“I’m sorry, sir. He was called away on business. He asked me to apologize.”
“I see.” Ivan’s voice was weak, as one might expect from an eighty-eight-year-old. It was also tinged with a Russian accent, which made it difficult to read his emotions over the phone. “I assumed he was no longer interested in the coat.”
Allison whispered to Payne and Jones. “The coat?”
They shrugged. They had no idea what Ivan was talking about.
Jones whispered back. “Say you’re interested.”
“No, sir. We’re still interested. Could I stop by today?”
Ivan paused, longer than he should have to answer such a simple question. Eventually, he cleared his throat and replied. “Tomorrow would be better. Is ten o’clock too early?”
Allison grinned. “Ten o’clock is
“Yes. That would be best. I don’t move around like I used to.”
Jones took the phone from Allison and shook her hand. “Well played, my lady.”
“Wow,” she remarked. “That was kind of fun. Who can I call now?”
Payne glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon. No way would they be ready to leave before their deadline. He needed to call Jarkko to make new arrangements.
“Nice job,” he said to Allison. “But now comes the hard part. You have to figure out what Ivan was talking about. What is ‘the coat’ that he referred to?”
“Honestly, I have no idea. And I knew more about Schliemann than Richard ever did.”
“Maybe it has nothing to do with Schliemann,” Jones suggested.
She shrugged. “Maybe so. But now that I know what to look for, I should be able to find something in Richard’s notes. At least I hope I can.”
“I’ll help you search. Four eyes are better than two.”
Payne nodded at Jones. “I have to make some calls. As soon as I’m done, I’ll help as well. In the meantime, why don’t you guys order some dinner? It’s going to be a long night.”
52
Jarkko was more than happy to stay an extra night in Saint Peters burg. He was getting paid to drink on his boat, an activity that he normally did for free.
Once the arrangements had been made, Payne asked Jones to join him in the guest room. They still needed to discuss the information learned from Kozlov. It was a conversation they didn’t want to have in front of Allison. For the time being, she was focused on Byrd’s documents, and consumed with Ivan Borodin and his mysterious coat.
Distracting her with death and violence would be counterproductive.
Jones entered and closed the door behind him. Two chairs and a small table filled the right corner of the room. He grabbed one of the chairs and turned it backward, allowing him to prop his arms in front of him. Meanwhile, Payne sat on the foot of the bed.
