Judge & Jury

Chapter 95

THE NEXT DAY, Andie stayed back at the hotel while I tracked Remlikov's movements. I followed him and his son down the mountain to his chess lessons on Hassan Street, in the center of town.

At night, I held on to her tightly. Seeing that man had brought everything back-the bus, the explosion, Jarrod. I saw in her face the same pain as that day in the ER after it all happened: the events suddenly fresh and vivid again.

That night I was sure she was asleep, but she was just lying there in the darkness, wide awake. Once or twice, I felt her shudder, then she turned away from me and buried her head into the pillow."It's okay," I whispered, and wrapped my arms around her, trying to make her strong. But I knew it wasn't okay. I knew the hurt was fresh and new. This face from the past complicated everything.

On the next night, just before dawn, I was lying in bed thinking, tracing the first rays of light as they washed over the room.

"Do you know how you're going to do this?" Andie asked, surprising me.

"Yes." I turned to her.

I had a plan. I was just afraid to share it. I knew it wouldn't go over well with her.

We had to get to Remlikov. The problem was, he rarely left the house. I couldn't burst in there, guns blazing. We needed Remlikov alive. I knew there was only one way-one leverage.

The boy.

There was no way around it, and I knew how troubling this would be for her. Also, I needed Andie's help. So I told Andie what had to be done-that it involved the boy.

"It's going to be dangerous," I said, shifting onto my elbow.

I knew precisely what I was asking. The boy was i

"Nick." She shook her head."I can't do that."

"We're not looking for a favor from him, Andie. We're squeezing a killer for a piece of information that could get us all killed. It's the only way he's vulnerable. I told you before we came how hard this was going to be."

"Do you know what you're asking? You're asking me to do the same thing to another mother that's just happened to me."

"I know what I'm asking, Andie." I reached for her."I'm not a killer, Andie. But these people are."

She stared back at me, thinking I was suddenly capable of the same violence and evil that had taken her son.

"I give you my word, whatever happens, the boy won't be harmed."

"Oh, yes he will.He will. "

I ran my hand through her hair, pulling a few strands away from her face."I need you to say yes, Andie. I need your help to get it done."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we walk away. We get on that plane and go back home. We forget about Cavello."

Andie sucked in a breath, wrapping her arms around her knees."And if I say yes? Afterward, what happens?"

"We let the boy go, Andie.We let the boy go. "

She shook her head."I meant with Remlikov. And the blond man."

I told the truth."I don't know."

She nodded, and after a while her body just sank into mine."He can't be harmed," she said."The boy…"

"Of course not." I squeezed her."I promise."

Chapter 96

PAVEL NORDESHENKO WAS twelve years old, and he no longer liked that his father still insisted on driving him to his lessons in the center of town.

Other boys his age were riding the Metro. Sometimes, when his father was away on his many trips, his mother let him take the bus lines. He liked to spend a few minutes in the bustling streets of the Old Town, far away from the sprawling vistas of Carmel Center and the heights.

Down here, where Abhramov's academy was, the streets were narrow and busier.Alive! The smells were of leather goods and spices and Arab bakeries. The sounds of merchants hawking their goods in the bazaar.

His father was always overprotective. Pavel wanted to go with his friends to the cinema or the beach, but Father always said,"You can't be too safe. Too careful." What was he always so afraid of? Sometimes his mother would let him take a day off, but his father always made him go to his lessons, as if it were religious study.

"There is a tournament next month, in Tel Aviv," his father said as they drove quietly through the crowded streets."Would you like to go?"

Pavel shrugged. Tournaments meant work, more studying to prepare.

"There will be masters from other countries there. Sergei thinks you are ready. What do you say?"

"I guess." Pavel shrugged."If he says I'm ready."

The car turned onto Allenby Street. The Baha'i Gardens were in full spring bloom.

"There is a casino in Caesaria. On the way back, we might stop. I'm told they play a little poker there. Just like the Americans. I know a man there who owes me a favor. He might get you in. Just to watch."

"You think?"

"I don't know," his father said, hiding a smile."I've been known to have a few co

They made the turn on crowded Hassan Street. Down here, the traffic was mostly mopeds and small delivery trucks. And taxis filled with tourists making their way up from the port.

Master Abhramov's studio was over a pita bakery. The place always smelled sweetly of dough. Their car slowed in front of the run-down building.

"Study hard." His father winked."There's a lot at stake."

Pavel gathered up his notebook and computer, and opened the door. He ran inside Abhramov's building, on cloud nine. As he headed for the narrow stairs, a man was standing in his way.

"I'm afraid that I'm lost," he said."Do you know where Haaretz Street is?"

The man was large and handsome, in a blue shirt and khakis, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. He spoke English like a tourist. American, perhaps.

"Haaretz? I think it's just down there. At the end of the street."

"Can you show me?" the man asked."I'm not from around here."

Abhramov would be expecting him. They had an hour and a half, and the grumpy old master didn't like him to be late.

"Just here." Pavel pushed back through the door and pointed."At the end. The bakery. You see?"

That was one of the last things he remembered.

Other than a hand wrapping around his mouth, and the damp, acrid cloth that smelled of chemicals. And the feeling of total weightlessness, of being carried away.

And the fear that his father would be angry when he came to pick him up and he wasn't there.

Chapter 97

"MIRA, LISTEN CLOSELY.I can't find Pavel! "

Nordeshenko's heart was beating wildly. The chess instructor said his son had never arrived for his lesson. It had happened a few times before-always when Nordeshenko was away on business. He combed the streets around the studio. He checked the ice-cream stalls, the bakeries, Pavel's favorite places. No one had seen the boy.

"He wasn't there when I went to pick him up at Abhramov's. I was hoping he had called."

"What do you mean?" His wife became alarmed."He always waits there. He knows not to stray."

"He didn't go to his lesson. Is there anywhere he might go that you can think of? Someplace he's spoken of? A friend?" How many times had he told the boy he had to be careful?

"No!" Mira's voice began to get excited."Maybe he took the bus. I've let him once or twice."

"He wouldn't let us know?"

Over the years, Nordeshenko had experienced the hollow feeling when a job didn't go right. He had that feeling now.

"We've got to call the police," Mira said.

"No!"The police! That was exactly what he couldnot do. Draw attention to himself. Now-with Reichardt in his house. What if they looked into him? He'd have to explain where he'd been overseas. And who this visitor was.