“Out of curiosity,” Payne said, “how’d you get into Russia?”
“By plane.”
He shook his head. “Not to Russia, into Russia. This country requires a travel visa, which takes some time to acquire. Without it, you aren’t getting in. So how’d you get in?”
Allison blushed and lowered her eyes. Payne noticed it immediately. It was the first time during their conversation that she had looked away. The first time he sensed something was off.
“What is it?” Payne demanded.
She took a moment to gather her senses, to re-collect her cool. Then she looked at him. “Sorry. I’m just embarrassed. I normally don’t break the law.”
Payne stared at her, studying her every tic. Making sure that she was telling the truth.
She said, “We snuck into the country. I’m not proud of it, but we did. There wasn’t time to get a real visa, so Richard got us fake ones in Berlin. Fake names. Fake visas. Fake everything. I don’t know how he did it, but he did.”
Jones mumbled under his breath. “Fucking Kaiser.”
Payne nodded in agreement. Byrd had the cash, and Kaiser ran the underground in Germany. It was a match made in smuggler heaven. “That explains why you wouldn’t go to the American consulate.”
“How could I? I wasn’t supposed to be here. Richard told me I’d be arrested on the spot.”
“Not arrested, detained. But you still should’ve gone. It’s better than being shot.”
She conceded his point. “You’re right. You’re definitely right. And if it hadn’t been for you, I would’ve gone to the consulate. I swear I would have.”
“Great,” Jones teased. “Now she’s blaming us.”
“What?” she said defensively. “I’m not blaming you. I’m thanking you. Without you guys, I would be dead or in prison. There’s no doubt in my mind. So thank you for coming here.”
“You’re welcome,” Jones said. “Glad we could help.”
Payne glanced at him. “Don’t go patting yourself on the back just yet. She’s still in Russia. She’s still in danger. And we still don’t know why.”
“True,” he admitted. “Very true. But I have a few theories on the topic—including a possible solution to her woe.”
“Did you just say ‘woe’?”
Jones smiled. “I did, my good man, I did. Shall I define it for you?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Good. Then I’ll get straight to my point.” Jones looked at Allison. “How long were you going to stay in Russia?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. A couple of weeks.”
“So there’s a good chance your rooms are still paid for, right?”
“Definitely. At least for a few more days. Richard always paid ahead.”
Jones continued. “And since he was the private type, I’m sure he had a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on his door the entire trip, right?”
She nodded.
“I’m also guessing that wasn’t good enough for him, so he probably locked his documents in his room safe—even when he used the bathroom.”
“Like clockwork.”
“No problem,” bragged Jones, who had picked many locks in his day. Not only in the Special Forces, but also as a private detective. “Hotel locks are easy. Give me five minutes and that safe is mine. Another two and I can collect your research. By the time I’m done, your room will be spotless. No one will even know you stayed there.”
“And then what?” Payne wondered.
“Then we come back here and look through Richard’s stuff. It’s obvious the guy was hiding something. Once we know what it was, we’ll be a whole lot closer to solving his murder.”
35
From the moment Nick Dial entered the grounds of Great Metéoron, he felt like an outsider.
Unlike Holy Trinity, which was filled with talkative cops, bloodstained floors, and severed heads, Great Metéoron was a working monastery. Everywhere Dial looked, he saw silent monks, manicured gardens, and religious icons. It was enough to make his skin crawl. If he wanted to walk around in peaceful harmony, he would have moved to Tibet. Or smoked a lot of pot.
As it was, he was investigating a murder. He didn’t have time to chant. Or inhale.
“I feel like I’m back in high school,” Dial said to Andropoulos as they made their way up the stone steps that led to the main courtyard, which was adorned with trees. Potted flowers lined most of the walls and walkways.
“Why is that?” Andropoulos wondered.
Dial passed two monks who gave him the evil eye, as if they had just caught him pissing on a church altar. Other monks had acted the same way. He didn’t know if it was due to his talking or because he was visiting the monastery on the one day it was supposed to be closed to the public. Whatever the reason, he felt the cold glares of the holy men everywhere he walked.