The challenge, of course, was how to remove Syeira from the equation without arousing more suspicion. I thought about it for a long time, long enough to enjoy a second espresso while the Paris traffic whizzed by. There were plenty of options, of course. A banishment would be the easiest in the short run, considering that it would leave her alive. After all, our family had four properties, and I really didn't have any interest in returning to Albania of all places. It was beautiful, but also, a cultural shithole compared to France.
The problem, of course, would be that by being in Albania, Syeira would be closer to the other heads of the various families that made up our tribe. She knew how to be political, and knew how to make the right connections. The last thing I needed was a traitorous rot spreading through the tribe.
On the other hand, killing her had its own drawbacks. First of all, there was no way that I could be in the area or even remotely connected to the event. If there was any way that a connection could be drawn, distrust of me would grow not from Jordan, but from my mother as well. I could quickly find myself a King without a country, a scenario that I was not willing to entertain.
It would have to be death. The question I asked myself, as I sipped my second espresso, was just how I was supposed to go about doing it? Who could I trust enough to get the job done? And how could I arrange it without having Jordan or Charani being put in danger?
Chapter 35
Jordan
I sat in a chair on top of the barge, Syeira sitting next to me, for all the world looking like two women enjoying the unexpectedly pleasant Paris weather and sipping some tea together. In reality, of course, things were much different. In the week since she had told me that there was a chance that Felix was alive, I had felt the ground shifting under my feet almost constantly. Francois being involved in his disappearance? What about Charani? Could I even trust Syeira, or was I somehow being manipulated by a woman who had just lost her son and was looking to blame someone?
It took viewing the actual message on Syeira's laptop to convince me that, at least on one front, I could trust her. Whether she was being deceived or not, she had reason to tell me about Felix.
Still, despite the hope that was flaring in both of our hearts, she proceeded with caution, moving at what felt like a snail's pace. She'd been involved at some level with both politics and the underworld for nearly her entire life and knew that rushing could quickly lead to ruin. As such, the only time we even discussed it was when the two of us were alone and in the open air.
“So how's the search going?” I asked, trying to act casual in case someone was watching.
“Dnepropetrovsk is a big city, with a lot of area around it,” Syeira replied. “It may not be Paris, but that in some ways makes it harder. There are a lot of dachas, what you call estates, in the countryside surrounding it. And a lot of them are connected to the Russian Mafia.”
“So what have we done so far?” I asked, then sitting back and controlling my temper. “Sorry. Just . . . the idea that Felix could still be alive has gnawed at my heart, and I find it hard to not want to rush.”
“I as well,” Syeira replied, slightly mangling the English but still making her meaning clear. She spoke three other languages — I couldn't fault her. She was normally pretty good. “It is doubly difficult because I cannot use the means I would normally go through. The normal method would be to use our tribe's families, who would then use their connections in other Romani tribes in order to find out.”
“Romani?” I asked, surprised. “How?”
“We are the unwanted stepchildren of most of the world,” Syeira said with a mirthless chuckle. “And we've been chased off and persecuted almost everywhere. Because of that, the Romani have developed one of the largest diaspora in the world, rivaled and in some ways supplemented only by the Jews. It gives us quite a network to use.”
“As long as you know how to use it properly,” I commented, “such as someone who was born a princess of the Romani.”
Syeira shrugged and gave me a cryptic smile. “It has its advantages. In any case, I have had to jump a few steps in the typical process, and do a lot of things that are against the normal protocols. Some of the Romani I have spoken to are not exactly allies of our tribe, but are highly motivated by the idea of quid pro quo.” Syeira sipped at her fruit juice and tapped at the computer next to her. “It is why I keep this computer next to me all the time now, it seems. I too have been desperate for information.”
I took a deep breath and looked over. “What is the point at which we go there ourselves and try and find out directly?”
“Not smart,” Syeira answered me, shaking her head. “Neither of us speak Ukrainian or Russian. We'd stick out. And if Felix is in the hands of the Russian Mafia, the people we’d need to approach would be paranoid. They even hear a rumor of two foreigners sniffing around about him, and he would be dead before we even got the first whisper.”
“So we just hang in here and pray?” I asked, my blood starting to boil. “Not my style.”
“Trust me, Jordan, I am doing everything I can.”