14

I went up to our room, but Pavel was not there. I stood puzzled at the closed door not knowing what to do, and trying to reach him on his mobile.

He answered on a tenth ring. His voice was sombre:

"Yes, Serge, I'll be back in a minute." As if he could see me staying before a closed door.

He came back in a minute indeed. Without looking at me, he opened the door and entered, he was rather flustered, I could see that from small signs that was visible only to expert eyes: his gestures were unusually sharp and impetuous, his lips were tight and jaws clenched. Something had gone wrong.

"What happened?" I asked after I closed the door behind me.

"Uh? Nothing." Pavel made a lot of unnecessary movements, taking off his jacket and then putting it on, taking a chair away from the table, sitting on it and rising to his feet the next moment to go to the window and look with non seeing eyes. "Nothing", he repeated. "How are things with you?". I saw that he was hardly interested in my reply, and to have a confirm of it I began telling incredible tales about my bed adventures with Mary, about how she was splendid and all.

"Stop telling me this rubbish!", he said suddenly. "I'm capable of listening."

"Ok, I'm sorry. I still have the impression that something 's gone wrong with you."

"You've got it wrong." He went once more to the window, looked out of it, as if he wanted to see something important, then turned around and asked:

"What do you think about that briefcase with the million? Wouldn't it be safer put it in a more reliable place?"

The question put me on my guard. The briefcase was becoming an issue. Too much money for our poverty-stricken minds, and not only for them.

"Why do you think that Hewlett hasn't already hidden it somewhere?"

"Not so fast", said Pavel, gazing straight at me. "And why should he then?"

I was forced to tell him about what I had seen at the entrance of the hotel in Stoleshnikov Lane.

"Oh, my God!" he groaned. "That's it! So he's being blackmailed and paid off the documents?" He was visibly shaken by my narration. His agitation rose enormously. He began pacing the room, breathing heavily.

I stared at him in silence, sensing that he was on the brink of telling me something that overwhelmed him.

In a minute he stopped in the middle of the room, sat down, then rose again and whispered in a suddenly coarsened voice:

"They've taken Anton."

"They who?"

"Do you remember the goons who came here? One of those called me and told me so. I've checked it, there's nobody at home, the nanny doesn't answer, they let me listen to his voice, he's with them, my wife knows nothing, they want the briefcase. And you've been telling me that there's no briefcase, no more. That means that I'll never see my boy, no more." His voice was broken, his lips were shaking. I had never seen him before like that.

I knew well his little Anton, a lovely three-year-old boy whom I carried on my shoulders a lot of times and with whom I would engage fierce fighting in a strange kind of wrestle in which I stood on my knees and he climbed on them and tried to put me down on my back by savagely shaking me by the shoulders and pressing on my chest, he would exert all his strength, heavily puffing and panting. I would finally gave in under his assault, but usually took my revenge in the next round, so as to maintain a balance and keep alive his interest in our competition. The boy was very proud of his score.

"Wait, wait, wait", I said. "Have they set any time limit to their demand?"

"By tomorrow morning. They will call at nine."

"You don't want to involve your guys, don't you?"

"Are you crazy? Our guys would be very glad to have their share from the briefcase. I don't know who to trust, even you, that's the tragedy of our time. And even if I knew somebody still honest and brave, the time lacks to plan on anything. What have you got with that girl?"

"I'm seriously planning on passing this night with her," I said. "At least there are good odds."

"That's something."

There was a keen and gloomy interest in his eyes as he gazed intensely at me. He would have liked me to go immediately to the girl and ask her to give me the briefcase.

"Anyhow", I tried to cool him. "You know how our bandits are. Let me handle the situation. I don't think you can..."

"Of course not," he interrupted me. "I know what you mean. They would kill my boy all the same after having had the money. The first condition they put me was that I mustn't tell anybody about the abduction, otherwise..."

"Sure," I said. "But it's the money they want, not to kill your boy. So the wise tactics will be to delay the handover of the briefcase. No boy no briefcase. I don't know if you would be firm enough to follow this line. I know they would insist on the opposite sequence: the money first and then all the rest. I imagine how it's hard for you, but the only way to save the boy is to ignore..."

"I can't," he groaned, covering his eyes. "I will do anything they require."

"That's what they count on," I said. "And that's very dangerous. I repeat, it's the money they want, not the death of a boy. With the boy dead they will have nothing, and very probably they will meet revenge of the father who will have nothing to lose, you see? Bear it always in mind. Can you stick to this line?"

He still stayed with his eyes covered.

"Can you?" I repeated almost shouting.

He nodded as he raised his head and lowered his hands.

"Could you call Ann now?" he said in a coarse voice.

I didn't reply at once. Impatience would be useless, or even self-defeating. How could I induce the girl to entrust the briefcase to me? I should have scared the shit out of her first.

"Ok," I said finally. "At least I keep contact with her."

Ann's cell-phone was out of reach. The fact added gloom to Pavel's mood. He began pacing the room again, twisting his arms.

"She will call," I reassured him. "She needs help. Now, to keep yourself busy try to find out something about this new Russian factory."

He stopped pacing and said:

"Already done. It's not a single factory, It's an entire chain of factories, they want to gain access to western markets, and, with western devices on them, they will sell their products even to Arab terrorists."

"Very nice," I said. "To aim them against Moscow. Fabulous! It amounts to high treason."

"Who cares?" he said. "Nowadays there's no such thing as motherland or military duty, only greed and selfish interest."

"But who's behind all that? Do you know?"

He shook his head:

"There can be one very in high, to cover the whole operation. And those who opposes them, that is those who kidnapped Anton, may be simple outlaws, chasing a million dollars."

I reflected aloud:

"That means, the first are your allies, as the enemies of your enemies. But that changes little, they are completely hidden, and we can't get to them. Or can we? Or is it not that simple and straightforward?"

"What I don't understand is why they brought and handed over to Hewlett the briefcase and then want to take it back," said Pavel. "They could well do without it, just by not bringing it here. Why such a farce?"

"That's what I'm saying. These are different men. The one who came first wanted to do it big and thinking strategically, offering Hewlett a large sum as a personal gift. These last ones don't agree and want the money back, I think they are criminals and the money comes from extortion, that was seen from how soiled and worn out the notes are. That's how I see the situation."

"What shall we do?" moaned Pavel.

"I will try to recover the briefcase. At the same time you try to find out as much as you can about this criminal group. They must be well connected at the police or in your own department, considering how fast they were in finding out your personal data. Do you have friends at the police?"

"Who has friends where nowadays?" said Pavel, who was a bit cheered up by my reflections.

'Ok," I said, looking at my watch. "I have to reserve a table at the restaurant. And don't rush me", I saw the impatient grimace on Pavel's face. "It's part of the plan."

"What plan?", groaned Pavel. "We're losing time!"

"Ok, don't lose it, ring up your connections at the police, make up a plausible story. You can feature the whole story as a kidnapping of your friend's son. It must work out."

"You will find Ann, won't you?"

"I told you, I'm going to spend the night with her."

"I count on you", he grasped my hand with a crazily desperate look in his imploring eyes.

"Get down to work", I freed my hand from his grasp and left quickly.