Moscow, 1992.
Elizabeth Rowan has known Daniel Mercer for exactly two days.
Long enough to know that he sells office equipment.
Long enough to suspect that this explains almost nothing about him.
So when an American businessman arrives at the embassy with a missing Russian driver, a missing car, and fourteen thousand dollars that should have been somebody’s payroll, Liz does something she would not have done two days ago.
She calls Dan.
In Moscow, finding a missing man is one problem.
Finding out whether he was ever really missing is another.
This is East of the Map.
Episode Two:
The Driver.
Part One
Robert Hale had lost a Russian, a Volvo, and fourteen thousand dollars before ten o’clock in the morning.
He mentioned them in that order.
Elizabeth Rowan noticed.
“The driver’s name?”
“Viktor.”
“Last name?”
Hale hesitated.
Liz waited.
He was perhaps forty-five, broad through the shoulders, with the sun-reddened face of a man who spent more time around construction sites than conference tables. His blue suit had been expensive once and had traveled badly. He had put his briefcase beside his chair and kept one shoe hooked through the handle.
“Orlov,” he said. “Viktor Orlov.”
“And the Volvo belongs to you?”
“No. Company lease.”
“Which company?”
“Ours.”
“The leasing company.”
“I’d have to check.”
Liz lowered her pen.
Hale looked at her.
“You’re going to make me do this one question at a time, aren’t you?”
“It seems to be working.”
For the first time since entering her office, he almost smiled.
Almost.
Outside, someone walked quickly down the embassy corridor. A telephone rang twice, stopped, then started again somewhere farther away.
Hale rubbed both hands over his face.
“I hired him through the hotel.”
“Which hotel?”
“Mezhdunarodnaya.”
“How long has he been driving you?”
“Four days.”
“And this morning?”
“He was supposed to pick up two people from our office, take an envelope to a subcontractor, then come back for me at nine.”
“What time did he leave?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“And he never came back.”
“No.”
“Did the people from your office see him?”
“No.”
“The subcontractor?”
“No.”
“Did anyone see him after he left the hotel?”
Hale shifted in his chair.
“I don’t know.”
Liz wrote that down.
He watched her do it.
“You’re writing down that I don’t know?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because so far it’s the most accurate information we have.”
He exhaled.
“Miss Rowan—”
“Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth. There was fourteen thousand dollars in that envelope.”
She stopped writing.
There it was.
“How much?”
“Fourteen thousand. Dollars.”
“You gave fourteen thousand dollars in cash to a driver you met four days ago?”
When she said it aloud, Hale looked as though he regretted having come to the embassy.
“It sounds worse that way.”
“Is there a better way?”
“Yes.”
She waited.
He considered it.
“No.”
Liz sat back.
“What was the money for?”
“Payroll.”
That changed the shape of the room.
“For whom?”
“Russian workers. Thirty-one of them. Machinists, electricians, two translators, installation guys. We’re refurbishing a packaging line outside Moscow. American customer, Russian subcontract labor. It’s complicated.”
“Why cash?”
“Because the people doing the work want cash.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It’s the answer I have.”
“Is this legal?”
Hale’s eyes narrowed.
“As far as our people have been able to determine.”
Which was not yes.
Liz let it go for the moment.
“When were they supposed to be paid?”
“Today.”
“So the fourteen thousand dollars is not yours.”
“It’s company money.”
“That wasn’t my question either.”
Hale looked toward the window.
“No,” he said. “It’s theirs.”
There it was again.
The thing beneath the thing.
Liz closed her notebook.
“Have you called the police?”
“The hotel has.”
“Have you called the company that provided the driver?”
“The hotel says he isn’t their employee.”
“You said you hired him through the hotel.”
“I did.”
“They gave you his name?”
“They introduced us.”
“Who?”
“A man at the desk.”
“Name?”
Hale stared at her.
“No.”
“So Viktor Orlov may not work for the hotel.”
“He had a Volvo.”
Liz considered that.
“In Moscow, those two facts may be unrelated.”
Hale stood, then apparently remembered he had nowhere useful to go and sat again.
“I know what this looks like.”
“Do you?”
“I handed a man fourteen thousand dollars and he disappeared.”
“That does simplify it.”
“You think he stole it.”
“I think you think he stole it.”
“What do you think?”
Liz looked at the list she had made.
Driver.
Volvo.
Fourteen thousand dollars.
Hotel.
Two employees who never saw him.
Subcontractor who never saw him.
A man at a desk whose name nobody knew.
“I think,” she said, “that you haven’t actually found anybody who saw Viktor Orlov leave the hotel with your money.”
Hale frowned.
“I watched him leave.”
“All right.”
“One witness.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“That’s better.”
“Better?”
“Than none.”
He stared at her.
Then, despite himself, he laughed.
It lasted only a second.
“All right,” he said. “What do I do?”
Liz reached for the telephone.
She didn’t think about it first.
That was the part she noticed afterward.
The number connected on the second attempt.
A woman answered in Russian.
“Mercer Business Services.”
“Good morning, Natasha.”
There was a small pause.
“Elizabeth Rowan.”
Liz looked toward Hale.
“Yes.”
“Is Daniel there?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then, “He is pretending not to be.”
Liz smiled.
“I heard that,” a man’s voice said somewhere away from the receiver.
Natasha said something in Russian.
A moment later the line changed hands.
“Mercer.”
“Good morning, Dan.”
Silence.
Not much.
Just enough.
“Liz.”
He had remembered.
Of course he had remembered.
She turned slightly toward the window.
“I have a driver who’s disappeared.”
“Yours?”
“No.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping you called because you needed a ride.”
“I have access to several forms of transportation.”
“So do I.”
“One of yours has a taillight held on with tape.”
“It remains attached.”
“That’s a very generous definition of transportation.”
Hale was looking at her.
Liz turned her chair slightly farther away.
Dan said, “Whose driver?”
There.
The other conversation closed as easily as it had opened.
“American businessman. Robert Hale. He’s been using a Russian driver named Viktor Orlov for four days. This morning Orlov left the Mezhdunarodnaya in a gray Volvo and didn’t arrive at either of his next stops.”
“How long?”
“About three hours.”
“And we’re calling this disappeared?”
“He had fourteen thousand dollars.”
Dan was quiet.
“Rubles?”
“Dollars.”
A longer silence.
“All right.”
The humor had not vanished.
It had simply been put somewhere else.
“Hotel driver?”
“Apparently not.”
“Car his?”
“Apparently not.”
“Who hired him?”
“Apparently the hotel.”
“That’s a lot of apparently.”
“I thought you might appreciate that.”
“I do.”
“And?”
“And I’m deciding whether I should be offended that you only call me when something goes missing.”
Liz watched a pigeon walk along the ledge outside her window.
“You answered.”
“I noticed.”
“Should I have called someone else?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly to be teasing.
Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Then Dan asked, “Where are you?”
“The embassy.”
“Can Hale leave?”
Liz looked at him.
“Can you?”
Hale stood immediately.
“Yes.”
Liz returned to the telephone.
“He can.”
“Bring him.”
“To your office?”
“You remember where it is?”
“Yes.”
“I hoped you might.”
There it was.
Liz heard it.
She let one beat pass.
“I remember the coat rack too.”
Dan laughed.
“Twenty minutes.”
The line went dead.
Hale looked at her.
“Friend of yours?”
Liz replaced the receiver.
“No.”
Then she picked up her notebook.
“Not yet.”
Mercer Business Services had acquired a sign.
Liz stopped on the landing.
It was hand-painted in black letters on a cream board:
MERCER BUSINESS SERVICES
Below it, in smaller Russian lettering, was the same name.
The sign leaned against the wall beside the door.
It had not been hung.
Liz looked at it.
Then at Dan, who stood in the doorway.
“You found the sign painter.”
“No.”
“Then who painted it?”
“Different sign painter.”
“And why is it on the floor?”
“He says hanging is extra.”
Liz looked at him.
Dan looked at the sign.
“We’re negotiating.”
“You’ve been negotiating since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“You sell office equipment.”
“Among other things.”
“Apparently wall mounting is not among them.”
“It’s a specialized field.”
Behind him Natasha said, “It needs two screws.”
Dan stepped aside.
“Everyone is an expert.”
Liz entered.
The office was cooler than she remembered.
She noticed because the radiator was silent.
She also noticed that the fax machine had been moved to Natasha’s desk.
Dan followed her gaze.
“We’re keeping an eye on it.”
“Has it misbehaved?”
“It knows what it did.”
Natasha looked up.
Liz looked at Dan.
“You stole that.”
“I prefer ‘learned.’”
“You learned it yesterday.”
“I’m very quick.”
Hale came in behind them.
The room tightened almost imperceptibly.
Business.
Natasha rose.
Dan introduced everyone.
Misha appeared from the back room holding a distributor cap and a piece of bread.
He saw Liz.
“Elizabeth.”
“Misha.”
He looked at Dan.
Then back at Liz.
“You came back.”
“So did your car.”
Misha considered this.
“Sometimes.”
Dan pointed toward the distributor cap.
“What happened?”
“Car.”
“What part?”
Misha held up the distributor cap.
“The part I removed.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“It will when I put it back.”
Hale stared at him.
Dan said, “Misha, Viktor Orlov.”
Misha stopped chewing.
“Which Viktor Orlov?”
Hale leaned forward.
“You know him?”
Misha ignored him.
Dan said, “Forty, maybe. Drives a gray Volvo. Mezhdunarodnaya.”
Misha’s expression changed.
“Tall?”
Hale shook his head.
“About my height.”
“Mustache?”
“No.”
Misha thought.
“Engineer?”
Hale looked at Dan.
“I thought you said driver.”
Misha said, “He is driver now.”
Dan’s eyes sharpened.
“You know him.”
“A little.”
“How?”
“He worked at ZIL.”
“Trucks?”
“Machines. Maintenance engineer.”
“What happened?”
Misha gave him a look.
It was a very Russian answer to a very large question.
Dan nodded.
“Right.”
“He drives foreigners. Better money.”
Hale took one step closer.
“Is he a thief?”
Misha looked at him.
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Hale stiffened.
“You don’t know what happened.”
“No.”
“Then how can you say—”
Misha shrugged.
“Because you ask if he is thief.”
Dan leaned against Natasha’s desk.
“Misha.”
“He is not thief.”
“You trust him?”
“I would leave car with him.”
Hale made an impatient sound.
“You’re missing the relevant part of that sentence.”
Misha looked at him.
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Fourteen thousand dollars.”
Misha stopped.
Not dramatically.
The distributor cap lowered perhaps two inches in his hand.
“You gave Viktor fourteen thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Payroll.”
“For Russians?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Misha put the bread down.
“What time?”
“Seven-thirty.”
“Where was he going?”
Hale gave the two addresses.
Misha listened.
Then walked to Natasha’s desk, pulled the telephone toward him and dialed.
Dan watched.
“Who?”
“His brother.”
“You know his brother?”
“No.”
Dan waited.
Misha held up one finger.
“My cousin does.”
Dan nodded.
“Of course.”
Hale looked between them.
“Is this how this works?”
Liz said, “Frequently.”
Dan looked at her.
“That’s a little judgmental.”
“I’ve been here twice.”
“And already an authority.”
“I learn quickly.”
“I’ve heard that somewhere.”
Natasha, without looking up from her ledger, said, “You have.”
Misha spoke in Russian, listened, hung up, dialed again.
Nobody interrupted him.
He reached someone on the third call.
The conversation lasted less than a minute.
When Misha put down the telephone, his face had lost its amusement.
“Viktor has daughter.”
Dan nodded slowly.
“How old?”
“Nine.”
“Relevant?”
“Birthday today.”
Hale shifted.
Misha continued.
“He promised he takes her to Gorky Park after work.”
Dan looked at the clock.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No.”
“But?”
Misha glanced at Hale.
“Viktor already bought tickets.”
Hale frowned.
“To Gorky Park?”
“For something there. His brother does not know. Viktor showed daughter yesterday. Said four o’clock.”
Dan pushed away from the desk.
“So either Viktor planned a remarkably elaborate alibi before stealing fourteen thousand dollars—”
“Or he planned to be home,” Liz said.
Dan looked at her.
She had already stood.
His jacket was in his hand.
He handed it to her without thinking.
Liz took it.
They both looked at the jacket.
Dan frowned.
“That’s mine.”
“I know.”
“You took it.”
“You gave it to me.”
“I was distracted.”
Liz handed it back.
Natasha said, “This is progress.”
Dan put the jacket on.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side that hangs signs.”
The Volga started on the second attempt.
Misha seemed disappointed.
“Showing off,” he said.
Hale sat in the front beside him.
Dan and Liz took the back.
The arrangement had happened without discussion.
Liz noticed that too.
Moscow moved past the windows in fragments: stone buildings, construction fences, buses heavy with passengers, a woman carrying flowers wrapped in newspaper, three men unloading televisions from the back of a van.
At an intersection, a boy stepped between stopped cars selling newspapers.
Hale turned around.
“Where are we going?”
“Mezhdunarodnaya,” Dan said.
“I’ve already been there.”
“So has Viktor.”
“I talked to the desk.”
“We’re not going to talk to the desk.”
“Who are we talking to?”
Dan looked at Misha.
Misha said, “Drivers.”
Hale sat back.
“Of course.”
Liz looked out the window.
Dan said quietly, “You’re smiling.”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I’m looking out the window.”
“Can do both.”
She turned to him.
“You seem very confident for a man whose office sign is on the floor.”
“That sign is paid for.”
“Is that supposed to reassure me?”
“It reassures me.”
“Why?”
“I know where it is.”
Liz laughed before she could stop herself.
Dan looked toward the front.
He didn’t say anything.
For some reason, that was worse.
The drivers waited along the side of the hotel in an irregular line of Ladas, Volgas, one Mercedes, two battered Zhigulis and a blue sedan whose make Liz could not identify.
Most of the men stood outside their cars smoking.
One was asleep behind the wheel.
Another had opened the hood and was apparently repairing his engine with a screwdriver and profanity.
Misha walked among them.
He did not ask about Viktor immediately.
He talked.
Cigarette.
Weather.
Gasoline.
A football result Liz only partly followed.
A complaint about tires.
Then Viktor.
The first man shook his head.
The second said something about yesterday.
The third had seen him that morning.
Dan looked at Liz.
She had heard it too.
“What time?” she asked in Russian.
The driver turned toward her, mildly surprised.
“Eight, perhaps.”
“Here?”
“No. On Krasnaya Presnya.”
“Driving?”
“Stopped.”
“Why?”
The man shrugged.
“Buying something.”
“What?”
Another shrug.
Liz switched her question.
“Was he alone?”
The man paused.
That was enough.
“Who was with him?” Liz asked.
“No one.”
“You thought about that.”
The driver looked at Dan.
Dan did not rescue him.
Liz waited.
Finally the man said, “A woman spoke to him.”
Hale took a step closer.
“What woman?”
The driver answered in Russian.
Liz translated.
“Older woman. Maybe sixty.”
“Did she get in the car?”
“No.”
“Did Viktor give her anything?”
The driver frowned.
“No.”
“Did she give him anything?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Paper.”
Dan said, “What kind?”
The man lifted both hands.
“Paper.”
Hale turned on Dan.
“What does that mean?”
“It means paper.”
“This is fourteen thousand dollars.”
Dan’s voice stayed easy.
“And currently we’re following a piece of paper.”
Hale looked as though he wanted to object.
Then decided he had no better idea.
The driver pointed them toward a kiosk two blocks away.
The woman there remembered Viktor because he had purchased something strange for a man driving foreigners.
“Ribbon,” she said.
Liz looked at the bright rolls hanging behind the glass.
“What color?”
“Red.”
“For what?”
The woman laughed.
“How would I know?”
Misha said something.
The woman smiled.
Then reached under the counter and brought out a small cardboard bakery box.
“This also.”
Dan looked at it.
“What?”
“She says Viktor asked where to buy cake.”
Hale stared at him.
Dan did not smile.
“Birthday.”
Misha nodded.
For the first time, Hale looked less angry than worried.
They lost twenty minutes trying the address of Viktor’s brother.
The apartment was empty.
A neighbor knew Viktor but had not seen him.
An elderly woman downstairs knew Viktor, his brother, both men’s wives, the daughter, the daughter’s teacher and apparently the moral failings of everyone on the fourth floor.
She also knew where Viktor kept the Volvo when he was working late.
A garage cooperative west of the river.
Misha wrote the location on the back of Hale’s business card.
“Far?” Hale asked.
Misha considered.
“In Moscow?”
Hale closed his eyes.
Dan said, “He’s learning.”
They returned to the Volga.
It did not start.
Misha turned the key again.
Nothing.
Dan looked at him.
“The part you removed?”
“No.”
“Something else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Misha opened the door.
“I will tell you when I know.”
Hale got out.
Dan got out.
Liz stayed where she was.
Dan leaned into the open door.
“You coming?”
“Where?”
“Nowhere, apparently.”
“I can do that from here.”
He looked at her.
Then smiled.
“Good point.”
Misha disappeared beneath the hood.
Hale paced toward a kiosk to find a telephone.
For the first time since morning, nobody was asking Liz a question.
Dan settled back into the seat beside her.
Outside, traffic moved steadily along the avenue.
The Volga smelled faintly of gasoline, old upholstery and whatever Misha had eaten for lunch.
For a while neither spoke.
Dan looked through the windshield.
“You always work this way?”
“Sit in broken cars?”
“Call businessmen you barely know and take off across Moscow.”
“I’ve done it twice.”
“Pattern.”
“Statistically weak.”
“Still encouraging.”
Liz looked at him.
“Were you waiting for me to call?”
Dan turned his head.
There it was.
She had not intended to say it.
Or perhaps she had.
His expression changed only slightly.
“No.”
She waited.
He added, “I was hoping you might.”
That was different.
No joke.
No escape hatch.
Liz looked through the windshield again.
A woman crossed the street carrying a bouquet of yellow flowers.
“I had a missing driver.”
“I know.”
“You’re useful.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“That was almost a compliment.”
“I was afraid of that.”
A small silence.
Then Dan said, “You could call when nothing’s missing.”
Liz turned back to him.
“Would you know what to do?”
He smiled.
“Probably not.”
“So we should work up to it.”
“Good plan.”
She let that sit.
Dan did too.
He had given her the opening.
She had not closed it.
Somewhere under the hood Misha struck something metallic.
Dan looked toward the front.
Liz said, “Three years.”
He looked back.
“What?”
“You’ve been here almost three years.”
“About.”
“You came for six months.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Rent.”
“I’ve heard that answer.”
“Still true.”
“Not the whole truth.”
Dan studied her.
“That Foreign Service face.”
Liz raised an eyebrow.
“You know about that?”
“Claire warned me.”
“She did not.”
“No.”
“Then?”
“I recognize an interview when I’m in one.”
“This isn’t an interview.”
“What is it?”
Liz considered him.
“That depends.”
He laughed.
She had his line now.
He knew it.
She knew he knew it.
Dan leaned back.
“Dangerous.”
“What is?”
“You’re learning my material.”
“You should improve your security.”
“My security thinks you’re charming.”
“Misha?”
“Natasha.”
“That is obviously a lie.”
“Very.”
Misha slammed the hood.
The moment ended.
He opened the driver’s door.
“Fuel pump.”
Dan glanced at Liz.
“Saved.”
“Were you in danger?”
“Possibly.”
Misha got behind the wheel.
“You talk too much.”
The engine started.
Dan looked toward him.
“You fixed it?”
“No.”
“But—”
“It starts.”
“That sounds fixed.”
Misha put the car into gear.
“No.”
Liz looked at Dan.
He sighed.
“You like him better than me too.”
“Frequently.”
And the Volga pulled into traffic.
The garage cooperative consisted of long rows of metal doors behind a concrete wall.
A man in a cap sat at the entrance reading a newspaper.
Misha spoke to him.
The man pointed.
They drove to the third row.
Gray.
Blue.
Green.
Rust.
More rust.
Then a gray Volvo.
Hale was out of the Volga before Misha had stopped completely.
“There.”
He ran the last few yards.
The Volvo sat crookedly beside a garage door.
Locked.
No visible damage.
No Viktor.
Hale tried the driver’s door anyway.
“Locked.”
Dan walked around the car.
“Windows?”
“Closed.”
Liz looked through the rear window.
Nothing obvious.
A newspaper.
A cloth.
Empty water bottle.
Something white on the floor.
Misha approached slowly.
He looked at the car.
Then at the garage.
Then at the ground.
“Viktor parks here?”
The attendant had followed them.
He answered.
Sometimes.
“Today?”
The man nodded.
“What time?”
He did not know.
“Did you see Viktor?”
Yes.
That stopped everyone.
Liz stepped closer.
“When?”
The attendant thought.
“Nine. Maybe after.”
Hale stared at him.
“He was here?”
The man nodded.
“Was he alone?”
Yes.
“Did he leave?”
Yes.
“How?”
The attendant pointed toward the road.
“Walking.”
Hale looked at Dan.
“Walking?”
Dan asked another question in Russian.
The attendant answered.
Misha’s face changed.
“What?” Hale demanded.
Misha went to the Volvo.
He peered through the passenger window.
Then moved to the back.
“Keys?”
Hale shook his head.
“Viktor had them.”
The attendant said something.
Misha turned.
“He left keys.”
“Where?”
The attendant walked back toward his booth.
He returned with a small ring.
Volvo key.
Hale took it.
Unlocked the car.
The envelope was not inside.
Neither was Viktor.
Hale searched anyway.
Front seat.
Glove compartment.
Under the passenger seat.
Rear.
Trunk.
Nothing.
“Damn it.”
Dan stood beside the open driver’s door.
“What did he leave?”
“What?”
“If Viktor ran with fourteen thousand dollars, what did he leave?”
Hale looked around.
“How would I know?”
Misha leaned through the rear door.
He pulled out a paper bag.
Inside were two oranges, a small wrapped package and a length of red ribbon.
Hale stared.
Misha opened the package.
A child’s book.
Bright cover.
Animals.
Russian title.
He stood very still.
Liz understood before Hale did.
“The birthday.”
Misha nodded.
“He bought present.”
Dan looked toward the road beyond the garage compound.
“And left it here.”
Hale’s anger had disappeared completely now.
“If he had the money, why leave the car?”
Nobody answered.
Liz looked at the driver’s seat.
There was a receipt tucked beside the hand brake.
She picked it up.
Small.
Cheap paper.
She read it once.
Then again.
“What?” Dan said.
“A pharmacy.”
Misha took it.
His eyes moved down the list.
He stopped.
“Medicine.”
“For Viktor?”
Misha shook his head.
“For heart.”
Dan looked at him.
“His?”
“No.”
Misha was already moving toward the attendant.
“His mother.”
The attendant said something quickly.
Misha turned back.
“He asked where hospital is.”
Hale stared.
“What hospital?”
Misha asked.
The attendant pointed toward the road.
He named one.
Liz looked at the abandoned Volvo.
At the birthday present.
At the red ribbon.
At the pharmacy receipt.
At the empty place where fourteen thousand dollars had been.
They had found the car.
And with it, for the first time all morning, a reason to believe Viktor Orlov had not been running away.
Dan looked at Liz.
She said, “Hospital.”
Misha was already heading for the Volga.
Dan followed.
Hale stood beside his abandoned leased car.
“What about the money?”
Liz looked back at him.
“That,” she said, “is why you’re coming with us.”
End of Part One
EAST OF THE MAP
Episode Two: The Driver
Part Two
Misha drove to the hospital as though Moscow had personally offended him.
The Volga leaned through a turn, narrowly missed a bus, and found a space between two cars where Liz had been reasonably certain there wasn’t one.
“Misha.”
“Yes?”
“Slower.”
He considered this.
“No.”
Robert Hale twisted around from the passenger seat.
“I thought you said something was wrong with the fuel pump.”
“There is.”
Hale looked at the speedometer.
“Shouldn’t that make you drive slower?”
“No.”
Dan, beside Liz in the back seat, said, “I’ve learned not to ask follow-up questions.”
“That isn’t true,” Liz said.
“No. But it sounds wise.”
Misha changed lanes.
Liz braced one hand against the seat.
Hale had stopped talking about the money.
That interested her more than if he had continued.
Ten minutes earlier, fourteen thousand dollars had been the entire problem. Now there was a mother with a heart condition somewhere ahead of them, and the possibility that the man Hale had accused of theft had spent the morning trying to get to her.
Liz opened her notebook.
“Start again.”
Hale looked back.
“From where?”
“This morning. Everything you told Viktor. Exactly.”
“I already told you.”
“Tell me again.”
He sighed but complied.
“He picked me up at the hotel at seven. Maybe five after.”
“Seven or five after?”
“Seven-oh-five.”
Dan said nothing.
Liz noticed that.
“I had the payroll envelope. He knew we had two pickups before he took it to Sokolov Industrial.”
“Sokolov?”
“Russian subcontractor. Not your Natasha.”
Dan glanced at her.
Liz ignored him.
Hale continued. “I told Viktor to collect McNally and George from the apartment we’d rented, drop them at the site office, then take the envelope to Sokolov. After that he was supposed to come back for me.”
“What did the envelope look like?”
“Brown. Heavy.”
“How was it marked?”
“It wasn’t.”
“Did Viktor know what was in it?”
“Yes.”
“Who else knew?”
Hale hesitated.
Misha’s eyes met Liz’s briefly in the mirror.
Dan said, “That’s going to become an expensive pause.”
Hale turned toward him.
“My Moscow project manager knew.”
“Name?”
“Neil Foster.”
“Russian?”
“American.”
“Who else?”
“Sergei Lapin at Sokolov Industrial. Their finance man. Probably his assistant.”
“Hotel?”
“No.”
“Your two engineers?”
“They knew payroll was due. I don’t know if they knew the amount.”
“Secretary?”
“We use a temporary woman at the site office.”
“Name?”
“Alla.”
“Last name?”
Hale frowned.
“I don’t know.”
Dan nodded toward Liz’s notebook.
“She’ll write that down.”
“I know.”
Liz wrote it down.
Hale saw her.
“Very funny.”
“No one laughed.”
Dan looked out the window.
“I did internally.”
The hospital appeared beyond a row of gray buildings.
Misha swung toward the entrance.
Hale said, “What if he’s not here?”
“Then we keep looking,” Liz said.
“And if he is?”
She closed the notebook.
“Then perhaps you start by not calling him a thief.”
The hospital corridor smelled of disinfectant, boiled cabbage and damp wool.
Every chair was occupied.
People stood along the walls holding bags, flowers, coats and the peculiar expressions of people who had been waiting long enough to distrust clocks.
A nurse at a desk told Misha no.
Misha asked again.
She told him no with greater precision.
Dan leaned toward Liz.
“I think we’re making progress.”
“She’s now refusing specific things.”
“That’s practically cooperation.”
The nurse looked at them.
Dan straightened.
Liz stepped forward and asked in Russian for Viktor Orlov, explaining only that his mother had been admitted and that they were trying to locate him.
The nurse’s expression did not improve, but it changed.
She asked the mother’s name.
Misha supplied it.
The nurse pointed down the corridor.
“Third floor.”
Hale started walking.
The nurse said something sharply.
He stopped.
“What?”
Liz translated.
“You need shoe covers.”
Hale looked down.
At his shoes.
Then at Liz.
“For what?”
“The floor, apparently.”
Dan picked up a thin pair of blue covers from a box.
“Moscow has rules.”
Liz looked at him.
“Careful.”
He handed her a pair.
“I didn’t say they were bad rules.”
They climbed the stairs.
The elevator was out of service.
On the second-floor landing, Hale said, “Of course it is.”
Misha said, “It is hospital.”
Hale looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Misha considered.
“Nothing useful.”
On the third floor they found Viktor Orlov sitting on a wooden bench outside a closed door.
He looked older than Liz expected.
Not forty, perhaps, but close to it. Dark hair going gray at the temples. A narrow face. Brown jacket over a shirt that had been buttoned incorrectly by one hole.
He was holding a paper cup of tea.
When he saw Misha, he stood.
When he saw Hale, he stopped.
The tea moved slightly in his hand.
“Mr. Hale.”
Hale said nothing.
Viktor’s eyes moved from Hale to Dan, then Liz.
He understood before anyone spoke.
“You think I took money.”
His English was careful.
Hale looked at the floor.
For one second, Liz saw the entire morning move across his face.
The accusation.
The car.
The fourteen thousand dollars.
The birthday present.
The pharmacy receipt.
“No,” Hale said.
Viktor waited.
Hale corrected himself.
“I did.”
That was better.
Viktor looked at him.
“My mother.”
“I know.”
“She was bad this morning.”
“I know that now.”
Viktor said nothing.
Hale glanced at Liz as though hoping she might help.
She didn’t.
Finally he said, “I’m sorry.”
Viktor nodded once.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Just acknowledgment.
Misha sat beside him.
“How is she?”
Viktor answered in Russian.
Stable for now.
There had been chest pain.
A neighbor had found her.
They were keeping her overnight.
His daughter was with Viktor’s sister.
Then Misha asked something else.
Viktor closed his eyes.
The birthday.
He had forgotten.
Not the birthday itself.
The hour.
He looked at his watch.
“Four.”
It was after three.
Misha said quietly, “The present is in car.”
Viktor looked at him.
“You found car?”
“Yes.”
“The book?”
“Yes.”
“Red ribbon?”
Misha nodded.
For the first time Viktor almost smiled.
It disappeared quickly.
Dan stepped away from the group.
Liz watched him cross to a small table near the stairwell where an elderly woman was pouring tea from a metal pot into plastic cups.
He bought two.
Then three.
He returned and handed one to Hale, one to Misha, and set the third beside Viktor.
Viktor already had tea.
Dan looked at the extra cup.
“So you do.”
Viktor said, “Thank you.”
Dan nodded toward the closed door.
“You stay here.”
Hale looked up.
Dan continued, “We’ll sort out the money.”
Viktor shook his head immediately.
“No. Money I delivered.”
Silence.
Hale stared at him.
“What?”
“I delivered.”
“To Sokolov?”
“No.”
The corridor suddenly seemed quieter.
Liz sat opposite Viktor.
“Tell me.”
He looked at her.
Her Russian surprised him.
She saw it.
Then he answered in Russian.
At eight-fifteen, perhaps eight-twenty, he had stopped near Krasnaya Presnya because a woman had waved to him from the pavement.
The older woman.
The one the driver outside the hotel had seen.
She was from Viktor’s neighborhood.
She knew his mother.
“She told you your mother was ill?”
“No.”
He frowned.
“She told me my sister had called garage. There was message.”
“What message?”
“Call hospital?”
He shook his head.
“For work.”
Liz slowed him down.
“Who gave the work message?”
Viktor thought.
“The woman said man at garage had paper for me. But I was already late.”
“So you went to the garage?”
“No.”
“How did you get the paper?”
“She had it.”
That changed things.
“Why?”
“She lives near garage. They asked her because she knows me.”
“Who asked her?”
“She did not know. Young man. Maybe from hotel.”
“Did she give you the paper?”
“Yes.”
Viktor reached inside his jacket.
He removed a folded sheet.
Hale stood.
“You still have it?”
Viktor looked offended.
“Of course.”
Liz took the paper.
Hotel stationery.
At the top, in English and Russian, were instructions changing the payroll delivery.
MR. HALE REQUESTS DRIVER TAKE PACKAGE TO NEW REPRESENTATIVE.
There was an address.
A time.
A name.
ALEXEI MOROZOV.
Below that, typed in English:
Sokolov Project — Line Three
Hale went pale.
Dan had come closer.
“What?”
Hale pointed.
“Line Three.”
Liz looked at him.
“What is it?”
“What we call the installation internally.”
“Who knows that?”
“Everyone on the project.”
“How many?”
Hale thought.
“Americans? Six. Russians? Maybe fifteen.”
Dan said, “Better than all of Moscow.”
Hale took the paper.
“This isn’t mine.”
“I know,” Viktor said.
“You thought it was?”
“It says Mr. Hale.”
“People can type my name.”
Viktor’s face tightened.
Hale saw it.
“No. That’s not what I meant.”
Dan said, “What did make you believe it?”
Viktor pointed at a line halfway down the page.
Liz read it.
Do not wait at Sokolov office. Lapin is at plant.
Hale swore softly.
Dan looked at him.
“True?”
“Yes.”
“Who knew Lapin wouldn’t be at the office?”
“He told me yesterday.”
“Who heard?”
Hale started to answer.
Stopped.
“Several people.”
“How many is several?”
“I don’t know.”
Dan looked at Liz.
She understood what he was thinking.
Not who knew the money existed.
Who knew enough pieces at the same time.
Liz turned back to Viktor.
“Did the message say who you would meet?”
“Morozov.”
“Had you heard the name before?”
“No.”
“And when you arrived?”
“A man waited.”
“Where?”
Viktor gave the location.
Near a small business center off Kutuzovsky Prospekt.
“He asked for you by name?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Viktor thought.
Then answered.
Liz listened.
She asked him to repeat it.
He did.
Hale looked impatient.
“What?”
Liz translated.
“He said, ‘Mr. Hale said you would have the workers’ envelope.’”
Dan’s eyes narrowed.
“Workers’ envelope?”
“Yes.”
Hale frowned.
“I don’t call it that.”
Liz looked at him.
“Who does?”
“I don’t know.”
Viktor said something.
Liz turned back.
“What?”
He repeated it.
She translated.
“The man also said, ‘Foster doesn’t want it sitting at the office.’”
Hale stared at him.
“Neil?”
Viktor nodded.
Dan asked, “Would Neil Foster have authority to change the delivery?”
“Yes.”
“Would Viktor know that?”
“Yes.”
“Would Viktor recognize Foster?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“They haven’t met.”
Dan looked at Liz.
There it was.
Not proof.
A narrowing.
Liz asked Viktor, “Did the message come from Mr. Hale?”
Viktor started to answer.
Then stopped.
Liz waited.
“No.”
“Who told you it came from Mr. Hale?”
“The paper.”
“Did anyone say Mr. Hale spoke to them directly?”
“No.”
Hale shifted.
Dan said quietly, “That’s an important difference.”
Liz handed him the page.
“I thought so.”
He read it.
Then looked at her.
Nothing more.
He didn’t need to say it.
The man who had taken the envelope had been about fifty, Viktor said.
Gray coat.
Brown leather case.
Good shoes.
Not rich.
Not poor.
He spoke like a man accustomed to offices.
“Accent?” Liz asked.
Viktor shrugged.
“Moscow.”
“Tall?”
“No.”
“Hair?”
“Some.”
Dan said, “We’re narrowing rapidly.”
Viktor looked at him.
“I did not study him.”
“No reason you should.”
“He knew my name.”
“That would help.”
“He knew Mr. Hale.”
Hale said, “He knew my name.”
Viktor looked at him.
“Yes.”
Hale rubbed a hand across his mouth.
“And you gave him the envelope.”
“Yes.”
“Did he sign for it?”
Viktor reached into his jacket again.
Hale’s head came up.
“You have a receipt?”
“Of course.”
Dan looked at Liz.
“I’m starting to like him.”
Viktor produced a small carbon receipt.
There was a signature.
A. Morozov.
Hale took it.
“That’s not one of ours.”
Liz said, “Maybe not.”
Hale looked at her.
“You think Morozov is real?”
“I think somebody signed Morozov.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
Dan smiled faintly.
Hale noticed.
“Is this amusing?”
“No,” Dan said.
“That looked like amusement.”
“I enjoy consistency.”
Liz said, “We’re going to the handoff point.”
Viktor stood.
“I come.”
“No,” Dan said.
Viktor frowned.
“I gave money.”
“Yes.”
“I help find.”
Dan nodded toward the closed hospital door.
“You have someplace else to be.”
“My mother sleeps.”
“Good.”
“I can—”
“Viktor.”
Dan’s voice had changed.
Not authoritative.
Not soft.
Simply final.
“Stay.”
Viktor looked at him.
Dan added, “If we need you, Misha knows where you are.”
For a moment Viktor seemed prepared to argue.
Then he sat.
Dan turned away.
Liz followed him toward the stairs.
At the landing she said, “You didn’t tell him.”
Dan kept walking.
“Tell him what?”
“That you were giving him permission.”
Dan glanced at her.
“I wasn’t.”
“You sounded like you were.”
“I was saving him from doing something stupid.”
“That sounds very close.”
“To what?”
“A favor.”
He opened the stairwell door for her.
“Dangerous word.”
“You use it frequently.”
“That’s how I know.”
Liz passed him.
Then stopped one step below.
“You were kind.”
Dan looked at her.
“That sounds worse.”
She waited.
He almost made the joke.
She saw him decide not to.
“Don’t spread it around,” he said.
Liz continued down the stairs.
“I’ll protect your reputation.”
Behind her, Dan said, “Now I’m worried.”
Hale was quieter in the car.
They had gone four blocks before he spoke.
“I should have trusted him.”
Misha’s hands remained on the wheel.
“Yes.”
Hale looked toward him.
“That was quick.”
“You want longer answer?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Dan said, “You knew Viktor four days.”
“I still accused him.”
“You had fourteen thousand reasons.”
Liz looked at him.
Dan shrugged.
“What?”
“You’re defending Hale.”
“I’m explaining Hale.”
Hale stared through the windshield.
“I changed the delivery on him twice this week.”
No one answered.
“Monday, I sent him to the wrong apartment because McNally moved. Yesterday I redirected him from the plant to the hotel because Lapin wasn’t there. This morning…”
He shook his head.
“If somebody told him there’d been another change, why wouldn’t he believe it?”
Liz said, “Exactly.”
Hale looked at her.
“That isn’t comforting.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Dan leaned forward between the seats.
“Who knew you make changes that way?”
Hale gave a tired laugh.
“Everybody.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“No.”
“Who sees your instructions?”
“Neil. Alla. McNally. George. Lapin. Lapin’s assistant. Hotel desk sometimes. Drivers.”
“What about Sokolov Industrial?”
“A dozen people, probably.”
“Payroll amount?”
“Fewer.”
“How fewer?”
“Neil. Me. Lapin.”
“Anyone else?”
Hale hesitated.
Liz saw it.
Dan did too.
“Mr. Hale,” she said.
“My secretary in the States faxed the breakdown yesterday.”
“To where?”
“The site office.”
Dan leaned back.
“Who receives the fax?”
“Alla.”
Misha said, “Maybe.”
Hale looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Misha shrugged.
“Fax is in room.”
Dan nodded.
“That means everyone with a room.”
Hale swore.
Liz said, “You have a temporary site office?”
“Yes.”
“Shared?”
“Technically ours.”
“Practically?”
Hale looked tired again.
“Two other companies use the building.”
Dan said, “Now we’re back to all of Moscow.”
“Not quite,” Liz said.
He looked at her.
She continued.
“The person knew the internal name Line Three. Knew Lapin wasn’t at the office. Knew Foster could plausibly change instructions. Knew Viktor had the payroll.”
Dan nodded once.
“And knew Viktor wouldn’t think a last-minute change was unusual.”
Hale turned around.
“So somebody on the project.”
“Or close enough to watch it,” Liz said.
Dan said, “That’s better.”
Hale stared at him.
“Better?”
“Than someone we know nothing about.”
“You have a strange definition of better.”
“You’ve met Liz.”
She looked at him.
Dan looked innocent.
Misha said, “There.”
The business center stood behind a row of kiosks and parked cars.
Nobody commented.
The handoff had occurred beside a concrete planter containing three dead shrubs.
Viktor had parked briefly.
The man had approached from the business center.
They had spoken for perhaps thirty seconds.
Then the man left on foot.
“No car?” Hale asked.
The parking attendant shook his head.
No car.
Dan bought the man a cigarette.
Liz watched him do it.
The attendant accepted it.
Dan did not ask about Viktor.
He asked whether the planter had ever contained anything alive.
The attendant looked at him suspiciously.
Then laughed.
“Last year.”
“What happened?”
“Democracy.”
Liz covered a smile.
Dan nodded toward the business center.
“Busy today?”
“Always.”
“Foreigners?”
“Too many.”
Hale bristled.
Dan ignored him.
“Americans?”
“Some.”
“Russian man, gray coat, brown case?”
The attendant looked unimpressed.
Dan spread his hands.
“About fifty.”
The attendant laughed again.
“Half Moscow.”
Liz stepped in.
“Not looking for him because he’s fifty.”
The man’s attention shifted to her.
“He met a driver here this morning.”
“What driver?”
“Gray Volvo.”
The attendant thought.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear them?”
“No.”
“Did the man go inside afterward?”
“No.”
“Which way?”
He pointed.
Toward the metro.
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Liz waited.
The attendant looked at Dan.
Then at Hale.
Then at Liz.
She didn’t move.
Finally he said something else.
“He dropped paper.”
“What paper?”
The attendant gestured toward the kiosk across the pavement.
The woman there had picked it up.
Dan looked at Liz.
“You want to?”
“You found the smoker.”
“Division of labor.”
She crossed the pavement.
The kiosk woman remembered the paper because she’d used it to wrap two bottles that morning.
Those bottles had already been sold.
Liz asked whether there had been anything printed on it.
The woman frowned.
Blue letters.
She could not remember.
Maybe a company name.
Maybe English.
She turned and rummaged under the counter.
Nothing.
Then she pulled out another sheet.
Not the same sheet.
Same paper.
Someone had apparently left a small stack beside the kiosk several days before.
The top carried a blue logo.
Hale saw it before Liz did.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
The kiosk woman answered.
A man had left them.
“What man?”
She shrugged.
Paper was paper.
Hale took the sheet.
At the top:
HARRISON TECHNICAL SERVICES — MOSCOW PROJECT OFFICE
His company.
Dan looked at him.
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“From the site office?”
“Yes.”
Liz took the sheet.
The paper itself meant almost nothing. Scrap paper traveled. Offices threw things away. Someone could have picked it up anywhere.
But Hale was staring at the lower corner.
A small handwritten mark.
Three parallel blue lines.
“What?”
He pointed.
“Alla does that.”
Liz looked at him.
“Does what?”
“When she’s sorting paper for the fax. She marks scrap copies so nobody loads them again.”
Dan said, “You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen her do it every day.”
Misha had come closer.
“Alla.”
Hale nodded.
“My temporary secretary.”
Liz looked toward the business center.
“Does she know Viktor?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know Foster?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know Line Three?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know Lapin?”
“Yes.”
Hale’s expression hardened.
Dan said, “Easy.”
“What?”
“You just decided she’s guilty.”
“You just heard—”
“I heard she marks paper.”
“Paper used by the man who stole fourteen thousand dollars.”
“Maybe.”
Hale stared at him.
“Maybe?”
Liz folded the sheet.
“Dan’s right.”
Hale looked at her.
“Of course he is.”
Dan turned slightly.
“I’d like that in writing.”
“Not now.”
Liz continued.
“Alla could have supplied the information. So could anyone who had access to her office.”
Hale shook his head.
“It’s a small room.”
“With a fax.”
“Yes.”
“With project schedules.”
“Yes.”
“With people coming and going?”
He didn’t answer.
Dan said, “And probably coffee.”
“Yes.”
“Dangerous.”
Hale exhaled.
“So what do we do?”
Dan looked toward the road.
“We don’t call the site office.”
Liz had expected that.
“No.”
He turned back to her.
“No?”
“No.”
Hale looked between them.
Dan said, “You agree?”
“I agree we don’t call the site office.”
“That’s unsettling.”
“Enjoy it.”
He smiled.
Hale said, “Why aren’t we calling?”
Liz answered.
“Because if someone there arranged this, we don’t tell them we’ve reconstructed the handoff.”
Dan nodded.
“See?”
Hale looked at him.
“What?”
“We’re becoming efficient.”
Liz folded the company paper and put it in her notebook.
“Don’t become sentimental.”
They used a telephone in the lobby of the business center.
Or tried to.
The first call failed.
The second connected to someone who insisted Hale had reached a bakery.
The third produced an operator who transferred them to a number none of them had requested.
Dan leaned against the wall.
“Modern commerce.”
Liz held the receiver.
“Quiet.”
“Natasha says that.”
“She has good instincts.”
“That sounds dangerously like admiration.”
“It is.”
“Everyone likes her better.”
“Frequently.”
The call finally connected to Sokolov Industrial.
Hale spoke to Lapin.
Liz listened to Hale’s side.
No accusation.
No mention of Alla.
Only questions.
Payroll had not arrived.
Workers were waiting.
Lapin had been at the plant since seven.
He had not changed the delivery.
He had not asked anyone named Morozov to collect money.
He had spoken to Neil Foster yesterday afternoon.
Nothing that morning.
Hale hung up.
“Thirty-one men are waiting to be paid.”
Dan said, “Then we have another problem.”
Hale looked at him.
“I had noticed.”
“We need to know whether whoever took the money still thinks you haven’t noticed how.”
Liz said, “And we need to decide how long we can keep Lapin in the dark about the method.”
Dan looked at her.
“Not long.”
“No.”
“But long enough.”
“Maybe.”
He smiled.
“You’re getting reckless.”
“Don’t enjoy it.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Hale interrupted.
“Can we do this later?”
Dan and Liz looked at him.
Hale shook his head.
“I walked into that.”
“Yes,” Liz said.
Dan said, “Definitely.”
Neil Foster was not at the site office.
That was the first useful thing they learned without speaking to him.
Hale reached him through the apartment rented for the American engineers.
Foster had left a message saying he was at the plant.
Lapin said Foster had not been at the plant since noon.
“Where was he this morning?” Liz asked.
Hale thought.
“He was supposed to meet a German equipment rep near the hotel.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
Dan said, “Who does?”
Hale looked at him.
“The German?”
“Excellent.”
“You know a German?”
“No.”
Hale stared.
Dan smiled.
“Refreshing, isn’t it?”
Misha said, “I know hotel.”
They all looked at him.
Dan nodded.
“Of course you do.”
The German representative had indeed met Foster.
At nine-thirty.
For breakfast.
Foster had complained about the coffee, discussed conveyor controls for forty minutes, and left shortly after ten.
The payroll had been handed over before nine.
That did not clear Foster.
It changed the timing.
Liz wrote it down.
Dan looked over her shoulder.
“You always write everything?”
“Only things I want to remember.”
“Comforting.”
“For some people.”
He looked at her.
She continued writing.
“Don’t worry.”
“That is universally followed by something reassuring.”
“I haven’t decided whether to remember you yet.”
He smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Cruelty.”
“Efficiency.”
Misha opened the hotel door.
“Car.”
The Volga waited at the curb.
As they crossed toward it, Liz realized Dan was still smiling.
So was she.
She stopped.
Not physically.
Only enough to notice.
Then she got into the car.
The next useful fact came from Hale.
It arrived accidentally.
They were halfway back toward the site office when he said, “Alla wasn’t supposed to be there yesterday afternoon.”
Dan leaned forward.
“What?”
“She had an appointment. Dentist, I think.”
“But she was there?”
“I saw her when the fax came.”
“The payroll fax?”
“Yes.”
Liz turned.
“Who else was in the office?”
Hale frowned.
“Neil. Maybe Yuri.”
EAST OF THE MAP
Episode Two: The Driver
Part Three
Yuri came with them.
Hale objected for most of the distance between the courtyard and the car.
“He sold information.”
“Yes,” Liz said.
“To the man who stole fourteen thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And now we’re bringing him with us.”
“Yes.”
Hale stopped beside the Volga.
“I just want to be sure I’m following.”
“You are.”
“That worries me.”
Dan opened the rear door.
“Think of him as identification.”
Yuri, standing several feet away, understood enough English to look offended.
Dan switched to Russian.
“Morozov knows you.”
Yuri nodded.
“He doesn’t know us.”
Another nod.
“You get us through the door.”
Yuri looked toward Hale.
Hale did not reassure him.
“And then?”
Dan glanced at Liz.
She answered.
“Then you tell the truth.”
Yuri looked away.
Misha turned the key.
The Volga coughed.
Everyone waited.
Misha turned it again.
The engine started.
“See?” Dan said.
“No,” Misha replied.
They got in.
The building next to Harrison Technical’s temporary project office had once belonged to an institute whose name remained visible in pale rectangular ghosts across the stone facade.
Someone had bolted six new plaques beside the entrance.
VOLGA IMPORT-EXPORT.
EUROPEAN COMMERCIAL CONSULTANTS.
MOSCOW-BALTIC TRADING.
INTERNATIONAL BUSINESS DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
One plaque consisted entirely of initials.
Another had already lost two letters.
Hale stared at them.
“This has been here the entire time?”
“Apparently,” Liz said.
Dan glanced at her.
She ignored him.
Inside, an elderly woman sat behind a desk large enough to have survived several governments.
Behind her hung a new calendar advertising Japanese electronics.
Beside it stood a ficus plant with one remaining leaf.
Yuri spoke to her.
The woman looked at Hale.
Then Dan.
Then Liz.
Finally Yuri.
Her expression suggested that of the four, Yuri was the one she found least reassuring.
She lifted a telephone.
Dialed.
Waited.
Nothing happened.
She hit the cradle twice and dialed again.
Dan looked toward a fax machine sitting on a table in the corridor.
“Healthy competition.”
Liz followed his gaze.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I feel increasingly supervised.”
The woman finally reached someone.
A short conversation.
Then she pointed upstairs.
“Third floor,” Yuri translated.
Misha stayed behind.
Dan looked at him.
“Car?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s encouraging.”
“It is not.”
Hale started up the stairs.
Yuri followed more slowly.
Liz noticed Dan waiting until Yuri moved before going after him.
Not distrust exactly.
Position.
She filed it away.
The third floor had been divided by thin wooden partitions into offices whose doors carried ambitious names on inexpensive paper.
Telephones rang.
A printer chattered somewhere.
A young woman in a bright blouse carried a stack of Western catalogs down the corridor.
From behind one door came German.
From another, Russian and the unmistakable shriek of a modem or fax.
The Soviet Union had apparently left the building without taking its furniture.
The new economy had moved in with business cards.
Yuri stopped at a door marked:
MOROZOV COMMERCIAL GROUP
Below it, in smaller type:
Procurement — Representation — Brokerage
Dan read it.
“Comprehensive.”
Hale said, “He stole payroll.”
“Not on the sign.”
Hale gave him a look.
Dan knocked.
A man’s voice answered in Russian.
Yuri opened the door.
Alexei Morozov was sitting behind a desk with a cup of tea and an open newspaper.
He looked up.
His expression changed when he saw Yuri.
Changed again when Hale entered.
And finally settled into something almost pleasant when Dan came through the door.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Dan stopped.
“You know me.”
“Of course.”
“That always makes me nervous.”
Morozov stood.
He was perhaps fifty. Compact, thinning hair brushed carefully back, gray suit, brown leather case beside his desk.
The same case Viktor had described.
He looked at Liz.
Then Hale.
Then Yuri again.
“You’ve brought guests.”
Yuri said nothing.
Morozov’s eyes returned to Dan.
“You sell office machines.”
“Mostly.”
A faint smile.
“I have heard otherwise.”
Dan looked around the room.
Two desks.
Three chairs.
A Soviet filing cabinet.
A German calculator.
Telephone.
Stack of copier paper.
A fax machine with the top held closed by a thick rubber band.
“I’ve heard things too.”
Morozov gestured toward the chairs.
Hale did not sit.
“I want my money.”
Morozov’s expression barely moved.
“What money?”
“The fourteen thousand dollars you took from Viktor Orlov.”
Morozov looked at Yuri.
That was the first mistake.
Small.
But Liz saw it.
So did Dan.
Morozov returned his attention to Hale.
“Mr. Orlov delivered an envelope.”
“To you.”
“To my representative.”
“You signed for it.”
“A receipt was provided.”
“Then give it back.”
Morozov spread his hands.
“There is a misunderstanding.”
Dan sat.
That surprised Hale.
It surprised Liz slightly too.
Morozov looked at him.
Dan crossed one ankle over the other.
“Good.”
Morozov’s eyebrows rose.
“Good?”
“Misunderstandings are easier than theft.”
Hale looked at Dan as though he had lost his mind.
Liz did not.
Not yet.
Morozov sat again.
“Yes.”
Dan nodded.
“So explain.”
Morozov leaned back.
“Harrison Technical is working with Russian companies.”
Hale said, “That isn’t an explanation.”
Dan lifted one finger without looking at him.
Hale stared.
Then, astonishingly, stopped.
Morozov continued.
“There are local suppliers. Local services. Introductions. Procurement. Many arrangements.”
“Of course.”
“Your American companies come here and expect everything to function through contracts made in America.”
Hale started to speak.
Liz said quietly, “Let him.”
He looked at her.
Then away.
Morozov noticed that too.
“Mr. Hale’s project requires local assistance.”
Dan nodded.
“And you wanted a contract.”
“I provide services.”
“Did Hale hire you?”
“No.”
“Sokolov Industrial?”
“Not formally.”
“Foster?”
“No.”
Dan waited.
Morozov smiled thinly.
“There are discussions.”
“So no.”
Morozov’s smile vanished.
Dan said, “Better.”
Liz understood now.
He was letting Morozov define his own ground until there was nowhere left to stand.
Morozov folded his hands.
“I have been in discussion regarding procurement work for this project.”
“With whom?” Liz asked.
He looked at her.
“Various people.”
“Names.”
“Madam—”
“Elizabeth Rowan.”
A fractional pause.
“Miss Rowan, these things are sensitive.”
“So is payroll.”
Morozov’s gaze sharpened.
Dan did not intervene.
Liz continued.
“Did Robert Hale authorize you to receive fourteen thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Did Neil Foster?”
“No.”
“Did Sergei Lapin?”
“No.”
“Did anyone with authority over Harrison Technical payroll?”
Morozov said nothing.
“Did Viktor Orlov believe you had that authority?”
“He gave the envelope voluntarily.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Morozov’s eyes moved to Dan.
Dan smiled slightly.
“She does that.”
Liz looked at him.
“Frequently.”
Morozov leaned forward.
“The driver had written instructions.”
“Written by whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Yuri spoke.
“Alexei.”
Morozov turned toward him.
Yuri’s face had gone pale.
“You wrote it.”
Morozov said something rapid in Russian.
Yuri flinched.
Liz caught only part of it.
Dan caught less.
But the tone did not require translation.
Liz said in Russian, “He answers for himself.”
Morozov stopped.
Yuri looked at her.
Then at Hale.
“I gave him information.”
“We know,” Hale said.
“I did not write paper.”
Morozov smiled.
“Then perhaps nobody did.”
Dan sighed.
Morozov looked at him.
“That isn’t going to work.”
“What?”
“The mysterious-paper portion.”
Morozov’s smile tightened.
Dan leaned forward.
“You knew the project name. Foster. Lapin. Viktor. Payroll. Delivery schedule. You used information Yuri sold you. Maybe you typed the note. Maybe someone typed it for you. I don’t particularly care.”
Hale looked at him.
Liz did too.
Dan continued.
“I care about what happens in the next ten minutes.”
Morozov’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“What happens?”
“You return the payroll.”
“And if I do not?”
Dan shrugged.
“Then this stops being a business disagreement.”
Morozov watched him carefully.
“No threats, Mr. Mercer.”
“That wasn’t one.”
“What was it?”
“Advice.”
Morozov looked amused.
“You know many people.”
“So do you.”
“Yes.”
“That should worry you more than me.”
Silence.
There it was.
No raised voice.
No menace.
Just arithmetic.
Liz watched Morozov calculate the cost of fourteen thousand dollars against something less visible and perhaps more valuable.
Reputation.
Access.
Future calls returned.
Doors opened.
Names passed quietly between men who bought and sold things before anyone had agreed what buying and selling in the new Russia was supposed to mean.
For the first time, she saw Dan not as the man who could find a shipment or a driver, but as someone who had learned to live inside that arithmetic.
Morozov said, “You are very confident.”
“No.”
“You sound confident.”
“I’ve had practice.”
“At what?”
Dan smiled.
“Office supplies.”
Morozov almost laughed.
Liz did not.
She was suddenly certain there was considerably more she did not know.
Morozov reached for his tea.
“Suppose the money is not here.”
Dan glanced toward the brown leather case.
“Then we’re wasting time.”
Morozov’s hand stopped halfway to the cup.
A very small thing.
Liz saw it.
She looked at the case.
Morozov saw her look.
Another mistake.
Hale stepped toward it.
Liz said, “Don’t.”
He stopped.
Morozov’s expression hardened.
Dan said, “Good advice.”
Hale looked between them.
“It’s right there.”
“We don’t know that,” Liz said.
Dan’s eyes remained on Morozov.
“But he does.”
Morozov leaned back.
“The envelope was accepted as an advance.”
Hale laughed.
“On what?”
“Future procurement services.”
“I never hired you.”
“There were conversations.”
“Not with me.”
“With people representing your project.”
Yuri shook his head.
“No.”
Morozov turned on him.
“You wanted a supplier arrangement.”
“I wanted commission.”
The room went still.
Yuri looked as though he wished the words back.
He did not get them.
Hale said, “You wanted what?”
Yuri swallowed.
“Two hundred dollars.”
“For selling our schedules.”
“I thought information only.”
“What did you think information was for?”
Yuri had no answer.
Morozov said, “You see? Commercial arrangement.”
Liz stepped closer to the desk.
“No.”
Morozov looked at her.
“Mr. Petrov sold you information. That may have been a commercial arrangement between the two of you. Robert Hale wasn’t part of it. Viktor Orlov wasn’t part of it. The thirty-one men whose payroll you intercepted weren’t part of it.”
“Intercepted.”
“Yes.”
“Strong word.”
“Accurate word.”
“He delivered it.”
“Because you caused him to believe the delivery had been authorized.”
Morozov spread his hands.
“He had instructions.”
“False instructions.”
“Perhaps mistaken.”
“Then returning the envelope should be very easy.”
That stopped him.
Dan looked at Liz.
She knew without looking that he was smiling.
Morozov opened a desk drawer.
Empty.
Second drawer.
Files.
Third.
Locked.
Hale moved.
Dan shook his head once.
Hale stopped again.
Morozov took a key from his pocket.
Opened the drawer.
Inside lay a large brown envelope.
Nobody spoke.
Morozov lifted it out.
Hale reached for it.
Morozov kept one hand on the envelope.
“First, we agree.”
Liz said, “On what?”
“That this settles all claims.”
“No.”
Morozov looked at her.
“You have not heard terms.”
“I heard enough.”
“I return money.”
“You return property that was not authorized to be given to you.”
“In exchange—”
“No exchange.”
Morozov’s eyes narrowed.
“This is Russia, Miss Rowan.”
“Yes.”
“You are not American law here.”
“No.”
“Then perhaps you should be careful.”
Dan said quietly, “Alexei.”
Morozov looked at him.
Dan’s voice remained easy.
“She is being careful.”
Morozov released the envelope.
Hale took it.
He immediately opened it.
Bundles of American currency.
He started counting.
Yuri watched.
Morozov reached for a sheet of paper on his desk.
“Receipt.”
Liz took it before Hale could.
It was typed in Russian.
She read quickly.
Then again.
Dan watched her face.
“What?”
“It says Harrison Technical acknowledges return of an advance payment following cancellation of proposed procurement services.”
Hale stopped counting.
“What?”
Morozov said, “Standard.”
Liz tore the sheet in half.
Morozov stared.
Dan looked at the pieces.
“Efficient.”
She put them on the desk.
“No.”
Morozov’s face darkened.
“That document—”
“Was inaccurate.”
“You cannot—”
“I just did.”
Hale looked at her.
“What do we sign?”
“We write what happened.”
Morozov laughed.
“You write your version.”
“No. We write facts.”
She took a blank sheet from the desk.
Morozov watched her.
Liz wrote carefully.
Date.
Time.
Location.
Amount.
Fourteen thousand U.S. dollars received by Robert Hale from Alexei Morozov following prior delivery of the same payroll envelope by Viktor Orlov under instructions Hale states he did not authorize.
She stopped.
Read it.
Added:
Receipt acknowledges return only and does not characterize the prior transfer as an advance, payment, contract, settlement or authorized commercial transaction.
Dan looked over her shoulder.
“That seems thorough.”
“You approve?”
“I’m afraid to answer.”
“Wise.”
Hale continued counting.
“Thirteen.”
Everyone looked at him.
He counted the final bundle.
“Fourteen.”
A silence released itself around the room.
All of it.
Fourteen thousand dollars.
Hale closed his eyes briefly.
Then opened them.
“Let’s pay the men.”
Not:
Let’s call the police.
Not:
Let’s destroy Morozov.
Not even:
What happens to Yuri?
EAST OF THE MAP
Episode Two: The Driver
Part Four
“Hale.”
Robert Hale had one hand on the door of the Volga.
He looked back.
Yuri Petrov stood under the entrance to the project office, the red folder tucked beneath one arm. In the fading light he looked younger than he had an hour earlier.
“What?” Hale said.
Yuri glanced at the others.
Then at the ground.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
“Nine.”
Yuri nodded.
He hesitated.
“I will come.”
Hale studied him for a moment.
“I know.”
It was neither forgiveness nor threat.
Apparently it was enough.
Yuri walked away.
Misha opened the driver’s door.
Dan started toward the passenger side.
Hale said, “Hospital first.”
Nobody argued.
Misha looked at the wrapped book in his hand, then passed it back to Liz.
“For car.”
Liz took it.
The ribbon had suffered.
It crossed the package at an angle and had been tied into a knot whose intentions were better than its execution.
She looked at Misha.
“You did this?”
“No.”
She waited.
Misha got behind the wheel.
“Maybe.”
Dan climbed in beside her.
“I think it’s elegant.”
“You would.”
“What does that mean?”
“You have a sign leaning against a wall.”
“My sign is structurally independent.”
Hale got into the front.
Misha turned the key.
Nothing.
He tried again.
The Volga coughed.
On the third attempt the engine caught.
Hale looked at the dashboard.
“How long is this going to keep happening?”
Misha pulled into traffic.
“How long will you be in Moscow?”
Hale considered that.
“Point taken.”
Liz rested the book on her lap.
The money was gone now.
Not missing.
Gone where it had been meant to go.
Thirty-one men had been paid.
Morozov had become somebody else’s problem, or perhaps tomorrow’s.
Yuri had nine hours before he had to explain to his employer what two hundred dollars had purchased.
And somewhere ahead, in a hospital corridor they already knew, Viktor Orlov was waiting beside his mother.
The city passed outside the window.
No one spoke for several blocks.
Dan looked down at the book.
“What’s it about?”
“I don’t know.”
“You didn’t look?”
“It’s wrapped.”
“That hasn’t stopped governments.”
Liz turned toward him.
“Are you proposing an intelligence operation against a nine-year-old’s birthday present?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I sell office supplies.”
“Of course.”
Hale looked back at them.
“I finally believe him.”
Dan smiled.
“It’s been a productive day.”
The nurse was still there.
Liz had begun to suspect she lived behind the desk.
The hospital had quieted since afternoon. Some of the chairs were empty now. A cleaner pushed a wide mop along the corridor. Evening pressed against the windows.
The nurse saw them.
Her expression suggested she had hoped never to do so again.
Misha said something in Russian.
She pointed down the corridor without waiting for the rest.
“Progress,” Dan said.
Liz took the blue shoe covers from the box.
“You know the rules.”
“I do now.”
Hale was already pulling his on.
No one had to tell him.
Viktor sat in the same place outside his mother’s room.
This time he was not alone.
A woman perhaps ten years younger sat beside him, wearing a brown coat and holding a handbag in both hands. Next to her sat a girl.
Nine.
Liz knew before anyone said so.
The child had Viktor’s eyes and the deeply serious expression of someone who had been promised a birthday and had instead received a hospital.
Viktor stood when he saw them.
His sister stood too.
The girl remained seated.
Her eyes went immediately to the package in Liz’s hands.
Misha noticed.
He took it from Liz.
Walked to Viktor.
And held it out.
“Car,” he said.
Viktor stared at the book.
Then at Misha.
“The ribbon?”
Misha looked offended.
“Ribbon is there.”
Viktor turned the package over.
The knot had tightened during the journey.
“So I see.”
His daughter had stood now.
Viktor looked at her.
The worry left his face for the first time that day.
“Sasha.”
The girl came closer.
Viktor crouched and handed her the package.
“Happy birthday.”
She took it carefully.
Then less carefully.
The paper lasted three seconds.
The ribbon somewhat longer.
The book emerged.
Sasha smiled.
Not hugely.
Not theatrically.
Simply as though something in the day had finally gone correctly.
She opened it immediately.
Hale watched.
Then looked away.
Viktor stood.
Hale waited until the girl had returned to the bench with the book before speaking.
“Viktor.”
Viktor looked at him.
“I accused you before I knew what happened.”
“Yes.”
Hale accepted that.
“I was wrong.”
Viktor said nothing.
Hale continued.
“I should have found out what happened first.”
“Yes.”
Another answer Hale had to live with.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Viktor looked at him for several seconds.
Then nodded once.
“All right.”
Not absolution.
But enough for one evening.
Hale put his hands into his pockets.
“When your mother is better, I still need a driver.”
Viktor’s expression changed.
“You want me?”
“I need someone who can keep track of where I’m supposed to be.”
Viktor almost smiled.
“That is difficult work.”
“So I’ve discovered.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Viktor looked surprised.
Hale said, “Not tomorrow.”
Something softened.
“My engineers can complain for one day without transportation.”
“They will.”
“I know.”
Viktor nodded again.
This time it meant something different.
Hale looked toward Sasha.
The girl was reading.
“What was the park?”
Viktor frowned.
“Park?”
“Her birthday.”
Viktor looked at his watch.
Then at his sister.
They spoke briefly in Russian.
His sister looked toward the closed hospital door, then at Sasha, then at Viktor.
She shrugged.
A family decision reduced to one movement.
Viktor said, “My sister stays with Mama.”
Hale said, “And you?”
Viktor looked at his daughter.
Sasha had stopped reading now.
She had heard enough.
“Papa?”
Viktor smiled.
“Maybe small walk.”
Her entire face changed.
Not because of fourteen thousand dollars.
Not because Morozov had been found.
Not because Hale had apologized.
Because the park was not entirely gone.
Hale reached into his pocket.
Viktor shook his head immediately.
“No.”
“I was only—”
“No.”
Hale stopped.
Then put his hand away.
“Right.”
Dan glanced at Liz.
She saw that he approved.
Hale looked around the corridor.
“I suppose this is where I leave.”
Dan said, “You have thirty-one paid workers.”
“And four engineers who are probably wondering where I am.”
“They’ll survive.”
“They came from Houston.”
Dan nodded.
“Then they’re trained.”
Hale looked at Liz.
“Thank you.”
She shook her head.
“Thank Viktor.”
Hale did.
Then Misha.
Then, reluctantly, Dan.
Dan offered his hand.
Hale shook it.
“You invoice for this?”
“Absolutely.”
Natasha would have been proud.
Hale looked uncertain.
Dan smiled.
“Go.”
Hale left.
His footsteps disappeared down the corridor.
Sasha tugged Viktor’s sleeve.
“Papa.”
“Yes?”
She held up the book.
“Can I take it?”
Viktor looked at Misha.
Misha said, “If ribbon survives.”
Sasha looked down at the ruined ribbon.
Then at Misha.
“You tied this?”
Misha considered lying.
Apparently decided against it.
“Yes.”
Sasha nodded solemnly.
“You are not good.”
Liz laughed.
Misha accepted this judgment with dignity.
Dan looked at him.
“Finally, an honest review.”
Outside the hospital, Misha asked the practical question.
“Where?”
Viktor said, “Home first.”
Sasha said, “Park.”
Viktor looked at her.
“Home.”
“Park.”
“Sasha.”
She hugged the book against her coat.
Viktor sighed.
Misha said, “Park.”
Viktor looked betrayed.
“You are helping.”
“Yes.”
“Not me.”
“No.”
Dan had already opened the rear door.
Liz stood beside the car.
There it was.
The point where the day should have ended.
Hale had gone.
The money was recovered.
Viktor had been found.
Her official usefulness had expired several hours ago.
Misha looked at her.
“Embassy?”
Dan said nothing.
That was somehow more noticeable.
Liz looked at Sasha, who was trying to climb into the Volga while holding the book.
“Park.”
Dan’s head turned.
Only slightly.
Misha nodded as though this had always been the obvious answer.
Viktor said, “You come?”
Liz got into the car.
“Apparently.”
Dan followed.
He sat beside her.
“That’s becoming your word.”
“You use most of the others.”
The Volga pulled away.
Gorky Park in the evening was not spectacular.
That surprised Liz.
Perhaps she had expected spectacle because the name seemed to require it.
Instead there were broad paths under trees, families moving slowly in the lingering light, young people walking in groups, older couples occupying benches as if they had reserved them years earlier.
Music came from somewhere beyond the trees.
Not loud.
Just present.
The river air was cooler.
A vendor was closing one stand while another still had a small line.
Children ran past carrying things that glowed faintly in the evening.
Moscow had spent the day constructing complicated ways for adults to lose money.
Here, it seemed to have taken the evening off.
Sasha walked between Viktor and Misha.
The book was under one arm.
The red ribbon was tied around her wrist now.
Badly.
She had apparently inherited Misha’s technique.
Dan and Liz followed several paces behind.
Nobody had arranged that either.
Sasha turned suddenly and asked Dan something in Russian.
He caught perhaps half.
Liz translated.
“She wants to know if all Americans have cars.”
Dan considered.
“No.”
Liz translated.
Sasha asked another question.
“Do all Americans want cars?”
Dan looked at the girl.
“Possibly.”
Liz translated.
Sasha nodded.
That answer made sense to her.
Then she pointed at him and asked something else.
Liz smiled before translating.
“What do you do?”
Dan straightened.
“I sell office supplies.”
Liz translated.
Sasha accepted this immediately.
No suspicion.
No follow-up question.
Nothing.
Dan stared at her.
Then at Liz.
“Finally.”
Liz laughed.
“What?”
“Someone believes me.”
“She has known you fifteen minutes.”
“Exactly. Uncorrupted.”
“You think familiarity creates doubt?”
“My experience supports it.”
Misha called something from ahead.
Sasha ran after him.
Dan watched her go.
“She’s very judgmental.”
“About ribbon?”
“Among other things.”
“She was correct.”
“Misha did his best.”
“That makes it worse.”
Dan smiled.
They kept walking.
At a stand, Viktor bought Sasha something sweet.
Misha objected to the price.
The vendor objected to Misha.
A negotiation began that appeared to have nothing to do with money and everything to do with principle.
Viktor shook his head.
Liz and Dan waited.
“Does he do that everywhere?” she asked.
“Only when awake.”
“Does it ever save money?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Honor.”
Liz nodded.
“Of course.”
Dan looked toward the river.
She followed his gaze.
The light had gone softer.
Across the water, buildings stood against a pale sky.
For perhaps half a minute, neither spoke.
It was not the silence from the broken Volga earlier.
That one had been charged because each was deciding how much to say.
This silence required no decision.
Sasha came running back.
She held two ice creams.
One she gave to Viktor.
The other she held toward Dan.
He took it.
“For me?”
She nodded.
Dan looked at Misha.
“You paid?”
Misha shook his head.
“Viktor.”
Dan looked at Viktor.
Viktor shrugged.
“You brought money.”
Dan looked offended.
“I did not.”
“You brought man who brought money.”
“That’s dangerously close to accounting.”
Sasha had already lost interest.
She ran toward a railing.
Dan stood holding the ice cream.
Liz looked at it.
“Problem?”
“I don’t like this kind.”
“You haven’t tried it.”
“I know what I like.”
“That sounds closed-minded.”
He handed it to her.
She took it.
“Thank you.”
“That was not generosity.”
“Of course not.”
“Quality control.”
“Your reputation is safe.”
He looked at her.
That phrase had acquired history now.
Neither mentioned it.
Later, Sasha found Liz sitting on a bench.
Viktor and Misha were several yards away arguing over whether the Volvo should be driven tomorrow.
Dan had disappeared toward a kiosk.
The girl sat beside Liz.
She looked at her.
Then asked in Russian, “Are you American too?”
“Yes.”
“Like him?”
Sasha pointed toward where Dan had gone.
Liz considered.
“Not exactly.”
The girl accepted that.
Children, Liz thought, were often better than adults at accepting incomplete answers.
Sasha looked down at her book.
“Why are you here?”
“In the park?”
“In Moscow.”
That was less easy.
Liz watched a young couple pass.
The woman carried flowers.
The man carried her shoes.
Apparently adventure had practical limits.
“I wanted to see it,” Liz said.
Sasha frowned.
“Moscow?”
“Yes.”
“You had not seen Moscow?”
“No.”
The girl considered this astonishing.
“Is America far?”
“Very.”
“Why come so far to see Moscow?”
Liz looked toward the river.
“I wanted to know what was here.”
Sasha thought about that.
Then nodded, as though perhaps this was reasonable after all.
Dan appeared carrying two drinks.
He saw them.
Stopped.
Then raised one.
An offer.
Liz stood.
Sasha had already gone to show Misha something in the book.
Liz walked over.
Dan handed her the drink.
“What were you discussing?”
“International relations.”
“Any progress?”
“Considerable.”
“Should I alert the embassy?”
“They’ll hear.”
They walked.
Not toward anyone in particular.
Just along the path.
Dan glanced back at Sasha.
“She asked what I sell.”
“I heard.”
“She believed me.”
“I heard that too.”
“You seemed pleased.”
“I’ve been waiting for this day.”
“Two days.”
He looked at her.
“Technically.”
She smiled.
They fell quiet again.
Ahead, Viktor had taken Sasha’s hand.
Misha walked on her other side, still carrying the damaged ribbon.
Something about the sight stopped Liz.
Not sentiment.
Recognition, perhaps.
This morning Viktor had been a driver.
A missing driver.
A Russian driver.
A man with someone else’s car and someone else’s money.
Now he was walking through a park with his daughter, glancing occasionally toward his watch because his mother was in a hospital and every pleasant minute belonged partly to someone else.
Dan followed Liz’s gaze.
“He’ll go back soon.”
“Yes.”
“Misha will take them.”
“Will the car make it?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
Dan considered.
“Misha.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“It’s all I have.”
Viktor refused to let Misha drive them all back.
“The Volvo is mine tonight.”
“It is Hale’s.”
“Tonight mine.”
Misha looked at the car.
“You leave it once.”
“Once.”
“It has better fuel pump.”
Viktor smiled.
“Everything has better fuel pump.”
This was apparently decisive.
The gray Volvo had been collected from the garage on the way to the park.
Now Viktor stood beside it with Sasha.
She had begun to fade.
Her energy was gone.
The book hung from one hand.
Viktor opened the passenger door.
Sasha climbed in.
Then turned.
“Goodbye.”
Everyone answered.
Her eyes landed on Dan.
“Office supplies.”
Dan nodded solemnly.
“Exactly.”
She shut the door.
Viktor looked at Misha.
“Hospital.”
“I follow.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You need not.”
Misha looked toward the Volga.
“Car needs movement.”
Viktor laughed.
Then turned to Hale’s Volvo.
Before getting in, he looked at Liz and Dan.
“Thank you.”
Dan said, “Drive carefully.”
Viktor looked at him.
“I am driver.”
Dan nodded.
“Fair.”
Viktor got in.
The Volvo started immediately.
Misha watched it pull away.
He looked personally insulted.
Dan said, “Don’t take it badly.”
“I do.”
They walked back to the Volga.
Misha turned the key.
Nothing.
Dan closed his eyes.
Liz began laughing.
Misha tried again.
The engine caught.
“See?” he said.
By the time they reached the center of Moscow, Sasha and Viktor had long since turned toward the hospital.
The streets had thinned.
Lights showed behind apartment windows.
Kiosks still glowed at corners.
Misha drove with one hand on the wheel.
Dan sat beside Liz in the back again.
No one had changed places all day.
Misha looked into the mirror.
“Embassy?”
“Yes,” Liz said.
Dan said, “You sure?”
She looked at him.
“About the embassy?”
“It’s been a complicated day.”
“I still know where I work.”
“Good.”
“I’ve also learned where you work.”
He nodded.
“Progress.”
The car crossed an intersection.
Liz looked out the window.
For someone who had intended to spend the day at the embassy, she had spent remarkably little of it there.
Dan said, “You never answered my question.”
She kept looking outside.
“You ask many.”
“One in particular.”
“Dangerous.”
“I’ve been told.”
She turned.
“Which?”
“Why you called me.”
“I answered that.”
“Partly.”
There it was again.
The word from the pavement outside Hale’s office.
She remembered his face when she’d said it.
He remembered too.
“I thought you’d know where to start.”
Dan considered.
“That sounds professional.”
“It was.”
“Entirely?”
Misha turned a corner.
Liz looked at Dan.
He was giving her room to say no.
Or yes.
Or nothing.
She chose a fourth answer.
“You came.”
He waited.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
“To what?”
She smiled.
“Exactly.”
Dan stared at her.
Then laughed quietly.
Not defeat.
Recognition.
He looked toward the window.
“I may have underestimated you.”
“That seems careless.”
“I’ve had a long day.”
“So have I.”
A pause.
Then Dan said, “Try not to lose anything tomorrow.”
Liz looked at him.
“I’ll do my best.”
He nodded.
“That’s disappointing.”
She laughed.
Misha said from the front, “Embassy.”
The gates were ahead.
Of course they were.
Misha slowed.
Liz collected her notebook.
She opened the door.
Dan said, “Liz.”
She turned.
He seemed to have had another line ready.
Whatever it was, he changed his mind.
“Goodnight.”
That was all.
“Goodnight, Dan.”
She closed the door.
The Volga remained at the curb until she was through the entrance.
Liz did not look back until she reached the controlled door inside.
By then the car was already moving.
She watched its taillights join the traffic and disappear.
Not because something was missing.
Simply because everyone had somewhere to go.
Natasha was putting on her coat when Dan entered Mercer Business Services.
She looked at the clock.
Then at him.
“Long day?”
“Yes.”
“The driver?”
“Found.”
“The car?”
“Found.”
“The money?”
“Found.”
Natasha picked up her handbag.
Dan looked around the office.
The sign still leaned against the wall.
“You didn’t hang it.”
“No.”
“I thought you wanted it hung.”
“I do.”
“Then why—”
“You were not here.”
Dan stopped.
“That feels unfair.”
Natasha switched off one lamp.
“Did Miss Rowan get home?”
“Yes.”
Natasha nodded.
Nothing else.
Dan waited.
She did not give him the satisfaction.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
He looked at her.
Natasha buttoned her coat.
“You were not working for most of the evening.”
Dan leaned against the desk.
“I was at Gorky Park.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Misha called.”
“Of course he did.”
Natasha opened the door.
Dan noticed something on the desk.
A short length of red ribbon.
He picked it up.
“Misha.”
Natasha looked at it.
“He left it in the car.”
Dan turned it over in his fingers.
“He’s bad at ribbon.”
“Yes.”
Natasha stepped into the corridor.
Dan looked toward her.
“Goodnight.”
She started down the stairs.
Then stopped.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Tomorrow, hang the sign.”
Dan looked at the cream board leaning against the wall.
“Two screws.”
“Yes.”
“I can do that.”
Natasha continued down the stairs.
“No.”
Dan smiled.
The door closed behind her.
For a moment the office was completely quiet.
No telephone.
No copier.
No fax.
Dan put the ribbon beside the telephone, picked up his jacket, and switched off the last lamp.
Outside, Moscow traffic moved steadily through the night, carrying people home, carrying people elsewhere, and occasionally carrying them somewhere they had not expected to go.
End of Episode Two
You’ve been listening to East of the Map, a Chesterton Radio original story.
The driver was found.
So was the car.
So was the money.
And by the time the day was over, none of those things seemed quite as important as they had that morning.
Elizabeth Rowan had called Daniel Mercer because something was missing.
The next time she calls him, perhaps nothing will be.
East of the Map continues with Episode Three:
A Day in the Park.
From the Little Station on Commercial Street in Atchison, Kansas, this is Chesterton Radio —
Stories. Ideas. Wonder.