The Pretender's Gambit. Alex Archer

smiled at the other woman. “Spasiba.”

      The older woman nodded. “You are welcome.” The words came hesitantly, but they were sincere.

      “If you want to find out more about Mr. Benyovszky’s business you should seek out Yelena Kustodiev,” the first woman said.

      “Where can I find her?” Annja asked.

      “She lives in the next building.” The woman hesitated, shifted her child on her hip, and looked pensive. “She is a…a very strange woman. It is best to be careful around her if you have to speak to her. I will write you the address.” She accepted the pen and paper Annja handed her from her backpack. “When you go there, please do me the favor of not telling Yelena Kustodiev who told you about her.” She shook her head as she wrote down the address. “She is a most intimidating woman. You will see.”

Chapter 9

      Nguyen Rao sat in the back of the squad car and worked on the handcuffs that bound him. The locks were no problem to manipulate. The most difficult thing had been in acquiring a pick. While he had been transferred from the room where Detective McGilley had spoken with him, he’d managed to steal a ballpoint pen from the desk of another policeman on the way out without being noticed. Rao had stripped the clip from the pen, then dropped the writing utensil into a convenient trash receptacle, keeping only the slim length of metal.

      Until the two policemen escorting him had placed him in the back of the squad car, he had kept the metal covered in the folds of his palm. Now he bent the metal and hooked it into the cuff on his right wrist. He didn’t need both open if that wasn’t possible, but managed it more easily than he’d believed. The locks had been simple, and he was dexterous, but he’d had to be patient, as well. That was made harder because he didn’t know how far they planned on taking him.

      The two policemen in the front seat on the other side of the metal mesh barricade separating the rear seat from the front talked about football, arguing in a good-natured way that told Rao they were friends, not just workmates. He kept that in mind, knowing he did not want to entertain any bad karma while engaged on his mission. He sought only to right an old wrong. If possible.

      The first cuff clicked open, followed quickly by the second. Rao kept his hands behind him, thinking only of the elephant and of Calapez’s involvement. Rao wondered who had sent the man there, and he wondered if he would have been able to entreat Maurice Benyovszky to give him the elephant in person while so many attempts over the phone had been denied.

      Rao didn’t know if Benyovszky was a good man or not, but he knew that no man deserved to have his life taken from him. He wished that Benyovszky would enjoy better terms in his next life, but that was out of Rao’s hands.

      Not for the first time, he wished the elder monks had sent someone else. But he was the most knowledgeable about the elephant, and he spoke English easily enough. He had been the best choice for the assignment, and he had taken on the responsibility.

      “I’m telling you, Frank, ain’t no way the Pats are gonna squeak by this year, and if they do, the Broncos are waiting on them.” The driver sipped his coffee as he pulled to a stop behind a cab at the intersection.

      Glancing around, Rao tried to get his bearings. The city was an unknown area. He had managed to get around only through the map function on his phone, but he no longer had that. Still, he had confidence in himself.

      He was also discomfited by the fact that he had turned himself in only to be taken into custody. He had not thought he would be placed under arrest. He still did not know how that had happened even after the police officers had explained his rights to him, then had told him he was being taken into custody as a material witness, but not as a criminal. The whole matter was highly illogical. They had said his incarceration—not their word but Rao had no other word for it—was to ensure he would provide testimony at the proper time.

      He had argued, but he had quickly seen there was no other way around it, so he had given in. And he’d stolen the ballpoint pen.

      Tipping over onto his right side, Rao drew back his left leg and kicked the window. The door had no handles on the inside in the rear compartment. The glass shattered and flew out to cascade against the car in the next lane.

      The policemen turned around, yelling at him through the mesh separating them from him, promising dire consequences. Rao ignored them, aware of the policemen hurrying to open their doors. They were as separated from him by the mesh as he was from the front of the vehicle.