he takes a day or two to get the phony paperwork and arrange a flight. Bing, bang, boom. Next thing you know, your plans to Greece get canceled because he needs to meet with Ivan.”
She smiled. “Bing, bang, boom?”
“What? You’ve never heard that expression?”
“Of course I have. I simply prefer, ‘yada yada yada.’ It’s classier.”
“Oh my goodness! You made a joke. I can’t wait to tell Jon.”
Allison blushed slightly. “Just so you know, I do have a personality.”
“I know you do. I’m just glad to see you finally using it.”
“Ouch.”
“Anyway,” Jones said, feeling guilty about teasing her, “if my theory is correct, that means Ivan has something that Richard needed. Any ideas on what it was?”
She shook her head. “No clue. But the answer might be among his paperwork.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He wrote Ivan’s number down on a piece of hotel stationery. “Why don’t you start looking through this stuff? Meanwhile, I’ll make a few calls and see what I can come up with.”
Jones walked into the guest bedroom and partially closed the door. He didn’t want to disturb her or leave her unattended. For the time being, she was his responsibility. Using the cell phone that Payne had bought for him, Jones dialed a number that he knew by heart. A few seconds passed before the phone started ringing at the Pentagon.
Randy Raskin answered. “Research.”
Jones glanced at his watch. It was still early in America. “Damn! Do you ever sleep?”
“There’s no need. That’s why God invented caffeine.”
“Good point.”
“By the way, I have to commend you on your trickiness.”
“My trickiness? What are you talking about?”
“You called me from a different number. You’re lucky, too. If I had known it was you, I probably wouldn’t have answered.”
Jones smiled. He peered into the other room, just to make sure Allison wasn’t listening. “And if you hadn’t picked up, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you about your future girlfriend.”
“My future girlfriend?” It took a moment for the comment to register, but when it finally did, Raskin’s voice went up an octave. “Hold up! You mean that blonde from California? You actually found her?”
“Not only that, she wants you to do her a favor.”
Drool practically dripped from Raskin’s mouth. He and his computer lived a lonely life in the Pentagon basement. “Anything she wants. And I mean anything. With a touch of a button, I can name a battleship after her.”
“Ahhhhhh! How romantic! What a sweet and totally inappropriate gesture.”
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Thankfully, her idea of a favor is a little smaller than that. She needs information on a man named Ivan Borodin. I have a phone number, if that will help.”
“Of course it will help.”
Jones read it to him. “I’m pretty sure it’s in Saint Petersburg.”
Raskin waited for the details to flash on his screen. “You are correct. Ivan Sergei Borodin lives in Saint Petersburg on some street I can’t pronounce. I can spell it for you, though.”
Jones wrote down the address. “Anything else?”
“From what I can tell, the dude is pretty old. He’s eighty-eight.”
“Eighty-eight? That can’t be right. Does he have a son of something?”
“Hold on. Different database.” The sound of typing filled the line until Raskin spoke again. “Nope. No kids listed. His wife is deceased. His brother is deceased. His sisters are deceased. Surprisingly, his parents are still alive.”
“What!”
“Just kidding. Wanted to make sure you were listening.”
Jones smiled. “What about employment history?”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say he’s retired.”
“From where?”
“Hold on. . . .”
“I know. Different database.”
“Okay,” Raskin said. “Last known employer was the State Hermitage Museum. I can get you the address if you need it.”
“No, thanks. I’m familiar with the place. Do you know what position he held?”
“I sure do. Until eight years ago, Ivan Borodin was the director of the museum.”
50
While Dial made the arrangements for their trip to Mount Athos, Andropoulos drove him to his hotel in Kalampáka. It took nearly thirty minutes from Great Metéoron.
“We have some time to kill before the helicopter arrives,” Dial said when they reached the hotel parking lot. “I’d like to show you something.”
“Of course, sir. Whatever you want.”
Dial led the way to his hotel room. A “do not disturb” sign hung from the knob. He unlocked the door and walked inside. A large bulletin board was sitting on a table, leaning against the far wall. The board was covered with handwritten notes on index cards and several photographs from the crime scene.