Legends

“All you had to do was look around you in Moscow. All you had to do was catch the smug smiles on the faces of the DDO wallahs assigned to Moscow station. Quest herself showed up several times—you couldn’t miss the gleam of unadulterated triumph in her bloodshot eyes. They were involved in something very big, that much was apparent to everyone around. They were transforming the world, rewriting history. And we saw Yeltsin imposing these wild ideas that the newspapers said came from the Oligarkh—freeing prices overnight, which led to hyperinflation; privatizing the Soviet industrial base, which left Ugor-Zhilov and a few insiders fabulously rich and the rest of the proletarians dirt poor; attacking Chechnya, which bogged down the Russian military in the Caucasus. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Demolishing the Russian economy, impoverishing dozens of millions of people so that the United States wouldn’t have to deal with a powerful Russia—holy mackerel, it was over the top, Lincoln. So I guess I saw a certain poetic justice for Martin Odum to be the one to track down Samat for the divorce. I guess, in the back of my head, I wondered if Martin’s memory wouldn’t be jogged if and when he caught up with Samat.”

“If Martin’s memory was jogged, if he came to realize that he was Jozef, he would want revenge.”

Felix said, very carefully, “Any sane man in his shoes would.”

“Kastner was murdered, wasn’t he?”

“Probably. The CIA insisted on doing the autopsy. I didn’t like the way it played out—it was too neat by half. Martin heads for Israel to pick up the trail of Samat. Kastner dies of a heart attack. And the Chinese girl wearing Martin’s white jumpsuit winds up being stung to death by bees on the roof.”

“You noticed that.”

“I notice everything. So are you going to tell me, Lincoln—did Martin and Kastner’s kid, Estelle, find Samat?”

“What makes you think Estelle is involved?”

“Because you phoned me on this unlisted number. It had to come from somewhere. My guess,” Felix added cautiously, feeling his way, “is that Stella gave the number to Martin, and Martin passed it on to you.”

“Martin found Samat where you stashed him—upstate New York in the middle of Amish country. He persuaded him to give his wife a religious divorce. Some rabbis in Brooklyn did the paper work.”

“What happened to Samat after he signed on the dotted line?”

“He said something about wanting to see Russian friends in Little Odessa. That’s the last anyone saw of him, flagging down a taxi and telling the driver to take him to Brighton Beach.”

“Now that Samat’s been found, the case is closed.”

“There’s still the Oligarkh. You wouldn’t by any chance know where he hangs his hat these days?”

“I don’t know. If I did I wouldn’t tell you. On the off chance you can find him, don’t. Remember what happened to Jozef. Touch a hair on the Oligarkh’s wallahs will bury you alive.”

“Thanks for the free advice, Felix.”

“You saved my life once, Lincoln. Now I’m trying to save yours.”

1997: LINCOLN DITTMANN FEELS THE RECOIL IN HIS SHOULDER BLADES