[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The driver was Elvis Vega.He was about forty.When they chatted earlier he had told Stickney that he was a lifelong manileño, had been driving in the city for twenty years.The car was spotless, and Elvis had carved through morning traffic with professional ease.Stickney decided that the guy knew what he was doing.Yet, here they were in front of a place called Impierno.“This is a nightclub,” Stickney said.“Correct.Impierno is well known for its bold shows.” Stickney recognized the phrase from his last time in Manila.“Bold” meant “nude.”While they were speaking, a parking space opened up in front of Impierno, and Elvis slipped the sedan in against the curb.He said, “Come.We will investigate.”They got out and stood on the sidewalk.Stickney tried the front door of Impierno: locked.He walked with Elvis toward the middle of the block, across the walkway between the nightclub and the high concrete wall next door, to where the old woman was sitting among stacks of newspapers and magazines.“I will ask,” Elvis said, and he bent and spoke a few words to the woman.She rolled her eyes and spoke a couple of words that Stickney didn’t recognize.She lifted her arm and motioned into the walkway, an impatient swipe of her hand.“Back here?” Stickney said.Now he saw the door at the side of the building.“I think so.”Elvis walked with him until Stickney read the sign on the door.“This is it,” Stickney said.“I probably won’t be long.”“No matter.I will be waiting.”Elvis was turning away when Stickney said, “The old woman? That look she gave you? What was that all about?”“She was being rude.”“What did she say?”“It was Tagalog,” Elvis said.“Isa pa.It means ‘One more.’ But she was being sarcastic.Like ‘Great, another one.’ I think she’s sick of being asked.”Andropov called to tell Magda that a stranger, a foreigner, was on his way up the stairs.They must have been watching close, she thought, to pick him up so quickly on the monitors.The Russians seemed to be spooked about this Marivic matter.Totoy had told her so over dinner the evening before.He said that they didn’t understand the fuss.Why would a couple of Americans—scary ones—take an interest in an insignificant province girl?“The Russians don’t like unanswered questions,” Totoy had said.“It makes them nervous.”Now another foreigner was showing up, and Andropov was practically coming apart.“Get up to the front and intercept him,” he was saying in her earpiece.“If it’s about the girl, take him into your room.Don’t let him question the staff.String him along.See how much he knows.”She was already out of her office, turning toward the door.Calm down, she wanted to tell Andropov.Although it would depend on what they were hiding down on the island, she thought.Maybe they had good reason to be nervous.The foreigner entered from the landing at the top of the stairs.About forty-five or fifty, dark-skinned, black hair flecked with gray.He wore a loose Hawaiian-style floral-print shirt that marked him as a tourist for sure.Magda stepped between him and the woman at the front desk who usually handled any stray visitors.“I wonder if someone can help me,” he began.A quiet voice with a soft accent that sounded vaguely British.“I wanted to ask about a girl.Actually, it would be a boy as well.”He was taking a snapshot from the front pocket, ready to hold it out to her.She needed just a glance—not even that—to know who he was talking about.She took the snapshot from him and smoothly reached for his elbow, moving him along as she said, “Yes, yes, of course.Why don’t we go into my office? It’s much more comfortable.”Markov hauled Ronnie into the ops room, sat him in a swivel chair in front of a monitor.“Who is he?” Markov said.The boy squinted.“I can’t see,” he said.The boy’s face was swollen and bruised, his lips split.His eyes were nearly shut.“Don’t screw with me,” Markov said.Ronnie leaned close to the monitor.“No, it’s too small.I really can’t see.”It was one of the small monitors, maybe six inches across.Markov patched the feed into one of the bigger screens, off to the side of the console.He grabbed the boy by the shoulders and shoved his face toward it.“Still too small?”“No.I can see now.”“And?”“I don’t know him,” the boy said.“Please don’t hit me.But it’s true.I’ve never seen him before; I have no idea.”Andropov was standing at the console, listening to the conversation in Magda’s office.“He has a photo of you and your sister,” Andropov said.“Where did that come from?”“I don’t know how he got it [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]