Mike got caught at a light, but no worries. Angie continuously relayed her position to him using her cell phone.
Markovich turned left onto Massachusetts Avenue NW. Angie sped up to the intersection, but quickly decreased her speed and made the turn without burning rubber. She didn’t want to give Markovich any cause to check his rearview mirror. She passed a slow moving Nissan as she crossed over 7th Street onto K Street. Other drivers didn’t care one iota if Angie was on a tail.
“Did you get your E-ZPass yet?” Angie asked.
“Um, I’m going to file an application. Definitely on the to-do list.”
Angie made a tsk-tsk sound. “Well, do you at least have your change handy?”
“You trained me, didn’t you?”
“And if I did it properly, you would have an E-ZPass.” Angie didn’t know if Mr. Markovich was going to take a toll road or not.
Toll roads were pretty far out of the city, mostly on the Virginia side. Either way, Angie had her E-ZPass and plenty of quarters on hand for either situation. She also had a full frame digital SLR camera from Nikon and a digital video camera from Sony. The Polaroid CUBE, which took stills and video was mounted to the dashboard of her car and recording the tail. One day, it could be evidence in a trial. Notes were fine, but for flawless recall, nothing beat a video recording.
When Markovich turned onto New York Avenue, heading uptown, the setting sun became a problem. The strong glare would wash out her video, and it made it difficult to keep him in sight. Things got a little better when he took a right onto 15th Street. A left would have taken her to the White House.
“I’m three cars behind him. How are you doing, Mike?”
“I got you in sight.”
“Hey, you’re getting better at this.”
“Once I was the pupil, now I am the master.”
Angie hesitated. “You really want me to say ‘only a master of evil,’ don’t you?”
“It would be nice.”
“Not going to happen.”
“Dang.”
Markovich crossed K Street and pulled to the curb in front of a building hidden by scaffolding. The black painted doors to a place called Solyanka opened, releasing a bear of a man in a paisley shirt unbuttoned far enough to reveal what could have been a fur rug glued to his ample chest and enough gold chains to function as armor. He waddled toward Markovich’s car.
“Mike, are you seeing this?”
“Seeing this. I can tell you Solyanka is hipster heaven for the Euro set and very Russian.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Yelp.”
“Good work.”
Mr. Gold Chains climbed into the Escalade and drove it around the block. Markovich went into the club.
Angie didn’t follow. Her guy was inside, so she found a nearby spot designated for fifteen-minute parking. A minute later, Mike drove up and honked.
Angie hung up the phone and rolled down her window. “Wait for me on the next block.”
The wait lasted two hours, but since she stayed with her car, the meter maids didn’t give her any hassle.
A little after seven, the sun was making its final retreat and had dappled the sky with a sundry of glorious colors. There hadn’t been any sign of Markovich, and aside from Mr. Gold Chains who returned on foot, nobody else had entered the club.
Angie’s phone rang. “What’s up, Mike?”
“I have a good parking space if you have to stretch or something.”
“I’m all right for now.”
“I got something else for you about our mystery girl.”
“Yeah, let’s have it.” Angie was watching the door to the club in her rearview in case Markovich came out.
“My gal at NCMEC did an age progression on your mystery girl. She apologized for the delay getting this done. I guess there’s a backlog and since yours wasn’t an active missing persons case it went to the bottom of the pile. Anyway, she just sent me the results. Want to see?”
“Do I? Of course.”
That was a huge development. Facial recognition might help Angie identify the girl, or perhaps social media could get the job done. Either way, knowing what the girl looked like today would satisfy a curiosity and could provide a vital clue in the search.
Angie got as far as opening the e-mail from Mike when Mr. Gold Chains emerged from the club.
Mike texted to make sure she saw Gold Chains leaving. She replied that she did. She couldn’t look at the girl’s picture since her focus had to be on Markovich.
Soon enough, the Escalade came into view. Seconds after that, Markovich exited the club. Gold Chains held the car door for Markovich. No money was exchanged, no tip offered, and Angie suspected Markovich was a person held in high regard. He was on the move once more.
Angie got Mike back on the line. “I’m following.”
“Right behind you.”