Kiss of the Blue Dragon (19 page)

I shut my eyes, trying to lure back the fading vision. I saw snow, even felt the cold flakes on my cheeks, heard the shot and smelled the blood that splattered the white ground, but I could not see the bird. It would have flown at the gun’s report.

“There is no bird,” I said, opening my eyes. The spell was broken.

“Look again,” Gorky urged me. “Sometimes things are not what they seem.”

I licked my lips and willed myself to try once more. I touched the crystal ball. It had cooled and was lukewarm at best. Then a tickling sensation scratched at my palms. I placed them firmly on the round glass. Heat poured from my lifelines. The glass glowed and I was stunned by what I saw—Humphrey Bogart. I blinked, waiting for the vision to pass, but it was still there. He was talking and I could tell somehow that I was watching a movie.

“I see Bogart,” I said, half-afraid Gorky would laugh me out of the house, but I remembered that he was a Bogart fan.

“What do you see?” the mobster asked in a prodding, sly voice.

“It’s a scene from a movie.”

“What is he saying?”

I shook my head. It was as if someone had muted the film. This wasn’t
Casablanca
. Bogart was too intense, almost mean. Then suddenly I heard, “It’s the stuff that dreams are made of.” And I knew.

Risking the loss of the vision, I looked at Gorky as I said,
“The Maltese Falcon.”

His wide mouth broke into a slow, satisfied grin. “Excellent,
dorogaya moya
. Yes, it is the Maltese Falcon that was stolen from me.”

I almost burst out laughing. Was this guy for real? I tried to remember what I could from the film. It had to have been shot in the 1940s. It was Bogart’s first roll as a leading man, but he was antihero material. It was a film noir, almost clichéd, and certainly nothing remotely like a true story.

“There was no real Maltese Falcon, Vladimir. The film was based on a novel by Daschiel Hammett. Pure fiction.”

“True, but I am a film afficionado, and I chose such a statue to carry my treasure, which I assure you is very real. It was stolen, and you still haven’t told me where it is.”

I glanced almost casually at the ball, and there I saw a vision so clear it took my breath away. “There is a farm with rolling hills,” I said in a monotone as if I were merely translating a message. “And a covered bridge over a small stream.”

“Yes?” Gorky whispered.

“There is a two-hundred-year-old house at the
end of the road. An old woman lives there. She has had a stroke—her mouth is pulled down and her one foot drags behind her.”

“Yes?” he said in a strangled voice.

“She has hidden your treasure under the floorboard in the dining room.”

And just like that, the scene I had described vanished. The ball emptied of images. I was fully back in the room. But I still hadn’t told him where he could find the farm.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t tell you more.”

“You told me enough.” He leaned back in his chair, his big knees half blocking my view of him. He stared sullenly at nothing in particular. “You described a place I know in Chechnya. I would not have thought it would be there. This is a great knife in my heart, but I now know it’s true. You could not have made that up.”

I shot Mike a look of relief. Then my mind raced over the details of the movie. As I recalled, no one ever found the priceless Maltese Falcon. It was said to be a statuette made of pure gold, covered in jewels. It had been disguised with a black covering. But the bad guys had stolen a counterfeit version made of lead. Everyone in the movie had fought over a fake and they’d all ended up empty-handed.

“What if it’s not there?” I asked. “What if it’s not what you think it is?”

He gave me a wily half smile tinged with darkness. “Then I’ll come back for you, Angel
moy
. But for now, you are free to go.”

He left us, and his servant lady brought us tea.
Mike and I drank, anxiously waiting to see what would happen next. After an hour, we were ushered back into the Humvee. I protested, but the driver, who had scarred cheeks and surly lips, cursed and told me to be patient.

He drove us without further explanation about ten miles down the road. When the driver turned down a dark, unmarked dirt road, I gripped Mike’s hand and dug my nails into his flesh. I was certain we were about to die, execution style. We would probably be dismembered.

When the vehicle stopped in a clearing, our headlights illuminated a big, unmarked white van. Standing in front of it was Marco. My heart literally leaped with joy. Then I frowned. What was he doing here? Was he part of this whole operation? Had he been an operative planted in my life not by the police department but by the R.M.O.?

We stepped out of the Humvee, and I approached him cautiously, shielding the glaring light from my eyes with a hand over my brow. He wore some kind of uniform. He looked like a bug exterminator or a house painter. Nevertheless, he was drop-dead gorgeous in his undercover garb.

“Hi,” I said. I stopped about ten feet away from him. He leaned against the white van.

He crossed his arms. “Hi.”

My mind whirled. I was confused, tired, relieved and still scared. “I—I wrecked your SUV. I’m sorry. It was…an accident.”

“I thought that might happen,” he said, and one of his sculptured cheeks dimpled with a wry grin. He
patted the grill of the van. “That’s why I borrowed this.”

“I don’t understand.” I shoved my fingers through my hair, tired of pretending I knew what I was doing.

“I figured I’d have a big load of pint-size passengers to bring back to the city. See, I’ve always had faith in your talents, Baker. Even more than you have.”

I heard Mike chattering away in Chinese. The sound came from inside the van. I walked slowly toward it, stopping when I was close enough to see in the open sliding door. Sitting there on two long seats, all safely buckled and hugging cute little backpacks, were eleven adorable Chinese girls. Mike stood next to me, rattling away in his native tongue. The girls, absorbing every word, barely spared me a glance.

I heard him mention Lin’s name and the girls’ frightened expressions changed. Their eyes lit with anticipation and the oldest of the girls asked questions, then chattered at her friends. All broke into smiles.

“I tell them they will see Lin soon,” Mike said, giving me one of his rare smiles. “They are very happy to hear they are safe now.”

Overwhelmed, I pulled Mike into my arms and hugged him tight. Together we rocked back and forth, and tears rolled down my cheeks onto his black ninja tunic. “Oh, Mike, thank you so much. We did it. We really did it.”

“You did it, Baker,” he said, pulling me away and giving me a tender look. “Like a blue dragon, you rise from the depths and defeat the Russian eagle.”

Or the falcon, I thought. But I wasn’t sure I had
defeated anything or anyone. All I knew was that the girls were safe.

I let him go and stepped away, not wanting to interfere with Mike’s work as translator. There was a lot he’d have to explain to the children and a great deal more they needed to tell us, if they could.

The Humvee’s engine rumbled into gear and I turned just in time to witness something that made absolutely no sense. The surly Russian driver called to Marco, spitting out incomprehensible words in his native tongue. And to my amazement, Marco responded in kind. He shouted out in fluent Russian. The driver nodded, laughed, and then put the Humvee in gear and tore out of the clearing, leaving behind a cloud of dust.

Marco turned back to me as if nothing had happened.

“You just spoke to that guy in fluent Russian.”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t breathe. “Why? How?”

He folded his hands, looking contrite. “I guess I’d better explain. Come with me. We’re close to the beach.”

He told Mike we’d be back soon, then took my hand and led me down to Lake Michigan. Inky water lapped softly on the man-made beach. A round, blue moon cast its unassuming light on the lake as far as the eye could see.

“I love the water, don’t you?” he said, sliding his hands into his jumpsuit pockets. A warm breeze pushed at his loose, dark curls of hair.

“Marco, what was that all about? What did you say to that Russian guy?”

He gave me a lopsided grin and stroked my cheek with one hand. “Ah, my lovely Angel, how can I explain?”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“That man who drove you to the clearing is my cousin.”

“What?” When I took a step back, he grabbed both my arms and pulled me close.

“A distant cousin on my mother’s side. Her maiden name was Natasha Petrovsky. She married my father, Luigi Marco, and then married Tom Black. I grew up speaking Russian. And for a while, I went down a bad path. Almost joined the R.M.O. When Danny was killed, I thought it might have been a belated payback for my decision to walk away from Gorky’s organization. I needed to find out. That’s why I came looking for you. You were the last one who saw Danny alive.”

My heart beat fast as I tried to make sense of it all. “So you didn’t really blame me for your brother’s death?”

He let out a long sigh, then started walking down the beach, pulling me along with an arm around my shoulder. I put my arm around his waist and strolled beside him.

“I wasn’t sure,” Marco said. “I blamed myself most of all. After looking in your files, I realized you had nothing to do with his death. But then I saw another opportunity.”

“An opportunity to use me,” I said in a hollow voice.

He stopped and turned to me, tucking a finger
under my chin. “At first, yes. It turned out that your relationship to Lola gave me an unexpected entré into Gorky’s personal life. And he was the man I was after. But by the time you and I made love, I was there because I wanted to be there. With you. Do you believe me?”

I sniffed the fresh lake air that came from some clean, faraway place. A memory of Marco’s lovemaking flashed in my mind and I smiled. He certainly hadn’t been phoning it in that night. “Yes, amazingly, I do believe you.”

Clearly relieved, he put an arm around me again and we continued our stroll. “I decided to go after the R.M.O. when Dan was killed. I was assigned to a special team of investigators who reported directly to Mayor Alvarez. Remember? The first day we met I told you Alvarez sent me.”

I chuckled softly. “That’s what got you in the door, but I thought you were lying.”

“Alvarez wanted to bust the R.M.O. wide open. Our team was working on various ways to get him. We’ve had undercover operatives working on this child-kidnapping case for weeks.”

“You knew all about the Chinese girls?”

“I knew bits and pieces. Recently our operatives discovered that Capone was breeding kids like fish in a hatchery outside of Barrington. When Gorky stole the girls, Alvarez hoped we could nail the R.M.O. and the Mongolian Mob at the same time, for the same crime. I couldn’t tell you what I knew about the case without endangering the lives of our officers working inside the R.M.O. As it turns out,
you didn’t really need my help figuring out how to rescue those girls.”

I let out an indignant breath. “Well, I’m glad the police were planning on busting Gorky, but were your people ever going to bother to save the children? Or were they just pawns?”

“Of course the girls were going to be rescued. But I found out two days ago that the mayor got cold feet and decided not to bust Gorky for anything until after the next election.”

“No!”

“Yes. Politics triumph again,” he said bitterly. “I contacted my cousin tonight. He told me Gorky was going to let you and the girls go. I offered to pick you up in an unmarked van. Knowing that Alvarez had lost his spine, Gorky figured he had nothing to fear from me and approved our little rendezvous.”

I digested this and nodded slowly. “But why, Marco? Why would you help me when I’m doing what a legitimate police officer should be doing? You demanded that I give up my profession.”

We slowed to a stop and he smoothed a short tuft of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a delightful chill down my neck.

“Tonight you weren’t a CRS,” he said. “You were a guardian angel. Just as you were when you saved my life outside of the abuse shelter. That day I learned everything I needed to know about you.”

“Uh-oh,” I said with a sly smile. “That sounds ominous.”

“You and I are a lot alike. We’ll both fight for justice to the bitter end. And sometimes we’ll do really
stupid things in order to help others. The bottom line is that I trusted your commitment to those girls more than I trusted Alvarez’s commitment to do the right thing.”

I put my arms around his waist and looked up into his dark eyes. “Are you telling me we have something in common?”

“I’m afraid so, Ms. Baker.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “After Alvarez pulled the rug out from under my team, I began to understand why people like you take the law into your own hands.”

“Now wait a min—”

He stopped my protests with a kiss. His lips were warm and perfect on mine. When he finally pulled away, he said, “I admire the hell out of you, Angel Baker.”

“The feeling is mutual, Detective Marco,” I replied breathlessly.

“And I need you.”

My eyes widened. “What for?”

“I need you to help me bring down Gorky.”

I smiled coyly. “You sweet talker. You are the most romantic man I’ve ever met.”

He raised a brow. “How do you figure? It’s not like I just offered you a bouquet of roses, kid.”

“No, it was much better than that. You gave me hope. I love that! Who needs chocolates? We can do this, Marco. Together. I’ve got it all planned out.” I tucked my arm in his and half dragged him back toward the van. “Not only were those girls kidnapped, but their sisters were murdered. We’ve got an airtight case, including a witness who saw the girls in Gorky’s mansion. We’ll go around the mayor if we
have to, straight to the governor. But first we have to get the girls to safety. I know they’ll be placed in good homes.”

“But Lin stays with you, Angel.”

I frowned. “I don’t know, Marco. She deserves so much more than I could give her.”