The Lost Throne(101)
“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 perfect. Should I come to you?”
“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.
“Who was he?” Jones asked.
“His name was Alexei Kozlov. He was ex-FSB.” Payne handed him Kozlov’s badge. It was gold with Cyrillic lettering. “He assured me it was fake.”
Jones recognized the emblem. “It damn well better be or we need to leave now. We don’t want to tangle with the FSB.”
“Don’t worry. I’m confident he was telling the truth.”
Jones nodded. He trusted Payne’s judgment. “What else did you learn?”
“He killed Byrd. Never got paid, though. Kozlov worked through an intermediary with the Russian Mafia. They gave him a phone number to call. He talked to the man who hired him but never knew his name. He was told to find Byrd, figure out what he was doing, and then kill him before he left town.”
“Anything else?”
“His boss spoke with a Mediterranean accent. Couldn’t tell if it was Greek, Turkish, or Italian. But definitely Mediterranean.”
Jones fiddled with the badge. “This sure looks real to me.”
“At one time, it probably was. But killing pays better than government work.”
“It always does.” He handed it back to Payne. “Should we be worried about the Mafia?”
Payne shook his head. “He wasn’t in the Mafia. This was a contract job, plain and simple.”
“Which means Allison is safe.”
“She is from Kozlov. I can guarantee that.”
No explanation was necessary. He knew what Payne meant.
“Changing subjects,” Jones said. “Any theories on Byrd?”
“Not yet. I’ve been kind of busy. What about you?”
“I found a stack of phony passports and foreign currency. Either Byrd was on the run, or he was expecting to be.”
“Then why come to Russia? And why bring Allison with him?”
“Those are two good questions, especially since he didn’t take her to Italy.”
“Hell,” Payne said, “he didn’t even tell her he went to Italy. If she hadn’t seen the airport tags on his suitcase, she wouldn’t have known.”
“Exactly. So why bring her to Saint Petersburg and not take her to Naples?”
“Only one reason to do that. He needed her here for something.”
Jones nodded. He was thinking the exact same thing. “If I had to guess, this has to do with Schliemann. According to her, she knew a lot more about Schliemann than Byrd ever did. That has to be the reason he brought her here. To help him with Schliemann.”