Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2 (35 page)

By the time Jana reached the top, she was winded. She straightened her shoulders, took a last look at the view, then walked through the rock-strewn, almost shapeless ruins of the two old cathedrals in the flat area at the apex of the hill. There was nothing there for her, her thoughts all fixed on her meeting with her past, present, and, she hoped, her future family.

She took a seat on a park bench at the head of the road. When Jeremy drove up the hill with her granddaughter, Jana wanted to make sure that she saw them, and they her. As she waited, trying to relax, her other life, the facts of the case, began to course through her head.

There were two principals left, she thought: Moira Simmons and Koba. Neither would be content until the other was dead. If Jana was right about Moira Simmons’s past, she and Koba had been together once, probably as lovers, certainly partners in crime. But, whatever their entwined lives had been at one time, they were now deadly rivals.

She thought about the personalities of these two people. They each wanted to keep the world all for themselves, doling out small bits at their whim or caprice. That’s what criminals did. They either gave the orders or they took them. And these people were two of a kind: Each had to give orders. And that meant a death.

She heard the sound of a car horn and looked downhill.

Jeremy’s car swept by Jana. She quickly stepped into the middle of the street, waving to call attention to herself. The car finally stopped a hundred meters away.

Jana could see Jeremy and Katka through the windshield of their car. They were arguing, their words muffled, but it was clear that they were having a disagreement. Katka might be reneging, at the last minute refusing to share her daughter with Jana.

The driver’s door opened, and Jeremy climbed out. He said something to Katka that sounded final, then reached into the back seat of the car, taking his daughter out of her safety seat. Jeremy carried Daniela, and a bag packed with her necessities, toward Jana.

Katka sat glowering in the front seat, not looking at Jana, unwilling to admit her into her life even for this brief moment. Jeremy’s face was flushed; his voice when he spoke still carried a serrated edge of anger. As for Jana, she only had eyes for her granddaughter.

Blonde hair, large brown eyes, pale complexion, her nose was straight, her mouth not full but not thin either. Small ears. She was dressed neatly in a peaches-and-cream dress, a dainty little girl whose fingers clutched a small Raggedy Ann doll.

Daniela looked directly at Jana, her eyes unafraid, merely curious.

Jana’s granddaughter did not look like Jana, nor Dano. She was a combination of her father and mother, Katka and Jeremy. A thought struck her. Yes, also Jana’s mother. She was there in the face, the eyes, the hands. Looks sometimes skipped a generation or two. No doubt about it, she could see her own mother in Daniela. There was no question. This was Jana’s granddaughter.

Jeremy held Daniela for a moment, letting the two, his daughter and her grandmother, survey each other. Then he said, “Daniela, this is your grandmother. That means she is your mommy’s mother. So she is allowed to take care of you.”

The little girl looked from her father back to Jana. Jana leaned toward her.

“Hello, Daniela. Is it all right with you if you stay with me in the park for a while?”

After a moment of hesitation, Daniela nodded.

“You can only have her for an hour.” Jeremy tried to soften his tone. “Then we will come back to pick Daniela up.”

“Perhaps a little longer?” Jana asked, surprised to hear the plaintive quality in her voice. “We need to get to know each other.”

“Look, Jana, at the last minute Katka changed her mind. She begged me not to leave Daniela with you. She has been screaming at me during the entire ride over here. It has not been easy, for her or for me, or for Daniela. Please, agree to a one-hour limit on this visit.”

There was no choice. Jana nodded. One hour: brief, but just the start of a long series of meetings in which they would see each other over the course of their lives.

“You ready to stay with Grandma for a little while, Daniela?” Jeremy quietly asked his daughter.

Daniela nodded at her father, then turned to Jana, holding out her arm to hand her Raggedy Ann doll over to her grandmother. Then Jana swept Daniela into her arms and held her close.

“I want to stand,” said Daniela.

After a quick kiss, Jana set her down.

“Be good,” said Jeremy.

“Okay,” Daniela replied.

“I’ll be good also,” Jana put in.

Daniela looked at Jana to make sure she had heard correctly, than solemnly nodded. “We’ll be good together.”

“That’s great.” Jeremy managed a smile, stooped to kiss Daniela, then hesitated before giving Jana a quick kiss on the cheek. “Take care of her.”

“With my life,” Jana promised.

Jeremy trotted back to his car, the argument with Katka recommencing as soon as he got in. It was even louder than before. Through the windshield, Jana saw Jeremy angrily throw up his hands and start the car, then, tires screeching, drive to the exit. The car took the road leading down to the bottom of the hill.

Katka had never looked at her mother.

Jana walked with Daniela over to the bench. Daniela clambered up. Jana sat next to her, as Daniela reached for her doll.

“What’s your dolly’s name?” Jana asked.

“Missy,” Daniela confided.

“Hello, Missy.” Jana took the doll’s hand and shook it in greeting. “My name is Jana. I’m Daniela’s grandmother.”

“Hi,” said Daniela, in a high voice.

The sound of a crash broke into their conversation. Metal against metal, car against car. A shock wave of fear went through Jana.

Jana fought the urge to run toward the sound. She forced herself to move slowly as she picked up Daniela, then walked to the road where it dipped downhill, and went down the incline, hoping she was wrong.

Within 150 meters, Jana saw a Peugeot sitting by the side of the road. Its left front was smashed in. Near the Peugeot, on the cliff side, was a broken fence. The Peugeot’s passenger and driver stood by the hole in the fence, looking down.

The driver of the vehicle, a woman, was sobbing, saying something over and over in French. There had been no way to avoid a collision, she was saying. Jana held tight to Daniela and looked down.

Jeremy’s car, a crumpled mass, was at the bottom of the hill.

“It went boom!” said Daniela.

Her granddaughter was right.

It had all gone “boom.”

J
ana had to identify the bodies, direct the French police to the U.S. consulate, and, most of all, keep the terrible events from her granddaughter. Daniela would have to be told, but not now. A mangled mother and father locked in a crushed automobile were things that little girls should not be forced to confront.

As for Jana herself, she could not afford to grieve openly; she had to keep her emotions in check, except for the love she felt for Daniela.

The U.S. consular people were very efficient. They took care of the arrangements. They selected the mortuary, arranging to ship the bodies back to Jeremy’s home state at government expense. After a cursory examination by a vice-consul, Katka’s and Jeremy’s personal effects were packed and sent to his parents. Daniela would also return to the U.S. Jana might escort her. In the meantime, the consul had retained a French nurse as a caregiver until Daniela was actually on the plane.

Jana’s pleas to keep her grandchild were denied. The child had been born in the United States and was an American citizen. She would be sent to live with her other grandparents.

After a brief spell of hope, Jana now had to live with that disappointment, along with her grief for the loss of her daughter.

Jana changed hotel rooms, obtaining one with twin beds, one for her and the other for Daniela. As for Daniela’s emotional state, she appeared not to have realized yet that her mother and father were dead. Perhaps she didn’t know what death meant, Jana thought. And, fortunately, she had a new grandmother, and their relationship seemed to occupy Daniela’s thoughts. Jana had visited every child’s shop she could find, buying any toys and picture books that she thought might occupy Daniela’s mind.

Jana and her granddaughter were sitting on the floor of the room, playing with a dollhouse and dolls that Jana had purchased, when Jana’s cell phone rang.

He did not give his name, but she knew that the man speaking was Koba. As Mikhail had said, there was no question: When the man called, you
knew
who he was. Perhaps it was the timbre of the voice, which left a cold, metallic echo inside you. So you listened, you knew. Or, perhaps, it was the absolute, unquestioning belief in himself that the man projected, which forced you to obey.

Koba spoke softly, distinctly, without stress.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss, Commander Matinova.”

Jana hesitated. Then, she asked, “Koba?” There was no reply. Her question was answered solely by the continuation of the conversation.

“I called to thank you for carrying out my request.”

“I don’t remember you asking me to do anything. If you had, I would not have done it.”

“Perhaps.” There was a pause. “I would like to see you.”

“Why?”

“To return a favor.” He gave her an address in the hills on the outskirts of the city. “I will be there for half an hour.”

He hung up.

Jana’s first impulse was a policewoman’s response. She started to dial Vachon’s number. Then she stopped herself. A half hour was very little time to set up a police operation that would keep Koba pinned down in his house. If they sent just a few duty police officers, Koba being Koba, the man would escape. In any case, Koba would know if the police were called! That sense was built into the man’s genes.

Jana realized she had to go alone.

She kissed her grandchild, told her she would be back in a very short time, and paid the nurse to borrow her car. Jana drove herself to the outskirts of Nice and up into the hills.

It was a large house surrounded by a wall made up of tall steel pickets spaced a few inches apart. Cameras were discreetly positioned well inside the fence to take in everything happening on the grounds and in the street beyond.

“No unwanted visitors, no salespeople, no human beings allowed inside,” Jana thought to herself. She walked to the front gate. There was a call button at the gate to push in order to catch the attention of whoever was inside. Instead, Jana pushed at the gate. It swung open. She hesitated, then stepped inside, closing the gate behind her. It had been left open for her.

She walked up to the front steps, then to the front door. Again, the door was slightly ajar. She scanned the front of the building. She had come this far; there was no reason to remain outside. She went in.

The rooms seemed to be surgically clean. There was furniture, sparse, all neutral. Aside from the furniture, there was not the slightest personal touch, or even the smallest sign of human presence to indicate real occupancy: no newspapers or magazines, no pictures on the walls, no matchbooks, not even a scrap of superfluous detritus. Not even a speck of dust. The rooms were so clean, it seemed to suggest that they could never get dirty. The owner had made a statement: I am not here, but I am here. Be warned.

The whole house was like that: furnished, but not for living. Except for the master bedroom, there was no one in the house.

There was someone in the bedroom.

Moira Simmons lay on the bed. Her makeup was perfect, her hair coiffed; she looked like she was posing for a woman’s magazine.

Of course she was dead.

To be sure, Jana felt for her pulse. Her skin was cold to the touch. Jana studied the body for a moment, then rolled the head slightly to one side. There was a small bloodstain on the pillow. She rolled the head back to its original position. Jana wondered if Koba had used an ice pick again.

Knowing that Vachon would be upset if she disturbed the scene, Jana wiped her hand on a corner of the bedspread, then retraced her steps to the living room. A man was seated in the room now, relaxed. He was still tanned.

Koba.

Jana seated herself in a chair, facing the man. There was a small ball of fear in her stomach. Being in the presence of this man would do that to anyone.

“Thank you for coming alone.” His voice had the same qualities as on the phone. “This was her house, not mine.”

“You killed her?”

“She really killed herself. If you don’t kill the king, if you only wound him, he will kill you. She thought I was the king. She tried to kill me; she didn’t succeed.”

“You retaliated.”

“The king has to rule his realm.”

“The killings in Slovakia?”

“My people were in the van. The old woman found in the river, mine. They were
her
work.”

Jana smelled the faint but familiar scent of cologne. The jacket in the closet of the van driver’s apartment had smelled of the cologne.

“The jacket we found in the van driver’s apartment was yours.”

“You arrived at the apartment very quickly. Almost too quickly for me.”

“That apartment, all neat, all new. As if never used, except for a few pieces. It was a setup, meant to catch someone.”

He smiled, grimly. “The driver she killed had to have an apartment for her to find. Otherwise, how could she obtain the ledger?”

“You knew she would go after him?”

“I knew her. She unquestionably would go after the king’s subjects.”

“We found the ledger. But
she
was supposed to find it,” Jana ventured.

He nodded.

It encouraged Jana to ask the next question. “Do you like sausage?”

He watched her for a moment, a bemused expression on his face. “Yes, I like sausage.”