Last Snow - Eric van Lustbader [35]
“Well, well.” For a moment, Dyadya Gourdjiev seemed at a loss for words, or perhaps he was busy reassessing the young woman he’d mistaken for a childlike adolescent. “And what do you know of fetishes, young lady?”
“That there’s at least one to satisfy every possible psychological itch.”
“Indeed.” Dyadya Gourdjiev stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “Karl’s into bondage, serious stuff, very unpleasant.”
“Not for everyone,” Alli said so dryly she drew a sharp look from Annika.
“Clearly not,” Jack said, already troubled by Alli’s interjections, which illuminated a topic she’d never brought up with him. “If you’ll allow me to use the phone, I’ll call her right now.”
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Annika said.
Dyadya Gourdjiev nodded. “I agree. A woman like that is highly likely to be suspicious of a man like you.”
“Let me do it,” Alli said.
Jack snorted. “Yeah, right.” He waved a hand. “Forget that. It’s bad enough you’re here altogether.” He held out the paper the old man had given him. “Annika, you make the call.”
Alli snatched the paper before Annika could take it. She stood in front of Jack with her legs planted firmly on the carpet. “Listen to me. This woman will get suspicious of anyone wanting to know where her former lover is now. I mean she might not respond at all or if she does she might give us a bum address or if she gives us the right one she could call him the minute we leave.”
“Alli, stop this nonsense right now—”
Dyadya Gourdjiev took a step toward her. “Mr. McClure, what harm is there in allowing Alli to finish her thought?”
“I don’t want her involved in this.”
The old man shrugged. “It appears to me that she’s already involved.”
Alli grabbed the ensuing shocked silence by the horns. “Look,” she said, excited now, “I call Milla Tamirova—”
“And say what?” Jack asked. “You don’t even speak Russian.”
“No matter,” Dyadya Gourdjiev said. “Milla speaks perfect English.” He rubbed two fingers against his thumb. “And why not? English is the language of money.”
“I’m going to tell her that I’m his daughter and I need protection.” Alli went over to where Dyadya Gourdjiev stood, as if seeking protection from Jack’s further protests. “That’s why I need to find him.”
She picked up the phone.
“I’VE SLAVED your cell phone to mine,” Jack said. “So just press the Two button if you get into trouble.”
“I’m not going to get into trouble,” Alli said. “I can take care of myself.”
He knew that wasn’t an idle threat. One of the things he’d been doing with her was training her in physical combat. She was a quick learner, which was no surprise to him, since she’d been athletic in college. Emma had taken him to see her in several track meets. He’d also taught her how to shoot a pistol; they’d spend an hour twice a week at the ATF firing range in Virginia.
“If you get into trouble,” he repeated, “I’m only a floor away.” He tapped the butt of the Mauser Dyadya Gourdjiev had given him, along with a box of bullets.
They were on the second floor of Milla Tamirova’s building on Andrivyivsky Spusk, a beautiful street filled with markets, steepled churches, and tiered wedding-cake buildings that wound its way up from the lower part of the city, known as Podil, to the upper city. Rochev’s former mistress occupied a corner apartment on the third floor. She refused to speak over the phone. In fact, it appeared that she was about to hang up, but once Alli broke down in tears, her voice quavering pathetically, she had agreed to see Alli. When did Alli learn to cry on cue, Jack asked himself as he watched her work over Tamirova like a champion boxer.
“And don’t get cocky, okay?”
She stared at him steadily now. “Okay.”
As she turned away to sprint up the iron fire stairs, Jack took her elbow and gently turned her back to him. “Alli, are you sure you want to do this? We can find another way—”
“I’m so sure, Jack.” Her gaze met his without guile. “Besides, it’s already set up.”
Then she gave him a quick grin. “You don’t want to queer the pooch.”
This response caught Jack flat-footed. For