“Two horsies!” Hannah said with a giggle.
An hour later they were walking in the cool morning air on the outskirts of the picturesque hamlet, all red tile roofs and folksy, hand-built dwellings. Time had stalled several centuries earlier, and if it hadn’t been for the rev of the occasional car engine floating from the main arteries, Matt wouldn’t have been surprised to have been following a horse-drawn cart into town down the cobblestone street, laden with live poultry for the market in the church square.
Matt spotted a blue sign with a stylized outline of a computer monitor over a storefront and pushed through the door. A thin young man with a hipster neck beard looked up from a glass display case filled with phones, modems, and miscellaneous peripherals. Matt pantomimed typing on a computer. The clerk pointed to three stations in the rear of the store and held up one finger. Matt nodded and led Hannah to the system while the clerk logged him on at the master computer, and then a colorful browser popped up on the screen.
Matt Googled Filipov’s name and scanned the results. Most were entries around the time of his death – his obituary, a few articles reporting on his suicide. Nothing new. Matt methodically read each to the best of his ability, grateful for the translation option onscreen, and then stopped when he finished the obituary.
The innkeeper had said Leo Filipov. According to the obituary, one Leonid Filipov was Anatoly Filipov’s brother.
Matt refined the search to limit it to Leo, and a whole new set of hits appeared – articles about the brother’s deal making, his representation of several prominent oligarchs and petroleum interests, his philanthropic activities.
Forty minutes later, Matt was finished, the scratch pad he’d been scribbling on filled with notes and a summary, with links sent to his blind email account for easy reference, as well as to Jet’s, in case she was able to access the Internet wherever she was.
Hannah had been more than patient while he’d been online, but she was growing antsy and bored, her interest in the various devices scattered around the shop too limited to hold her attention for long. Matt paid and they stepped outside, narrowly avoiding being knocked over by two old women astride bicycles who’d appeared out of nowhere, preferring the sidewalk to the street for their outing. He looked both ways and they crossed to a café, Hannah’s promised reward of orange juice and a pastry having been earned with her good behavior.
When he returned to the inn, the woman’s husband was manning the reception desk, and Matt gave him his cell phone number should anyone call for him and he be unavailable. Matt reiterated that he’d prefer to be disturbed no matter what the hour, but figured that if the proprietors were too lazy or resentful to mount the stairs, at least that way Jet would have a way of getting in touch.
Chapter 43
Novaya Tavolzhanka, Russia
The train slowed even further from the lethargic pace it had dropped to as it rolled through the Belgorod station, and began the final leg to the Ukrainian border. The countryside was flat as a lake, farms dominating the landscape with occasional extended stretches of forested area.
Yulia whispered to Jet, “We should get off around here. We’re only a few kilometers from the border, and the Ukrainian army’s likely to stop the train and inspect it at the crossing.”
“What about the Russians?”
“Oh, they’ll inspect anything going north, but they generally couldn’t care less about goods being shipped out of Russia.”
“Then why not just ride into Ukraine and then get off?”
Yulia sighed. “It’s complicated. Even though I work with the government forces, in this area there are no clear loyalties, even with the administration’s troops. And there are fighters sneaking in from Russia on a regular basis, so the government soldiers are trigger happy. We might be mistaken for mercenaries, and by the time they figured out we aren’t, it would be too late.”
Jet studied her face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Yulia nodded. “Yes, but now isn’t the time to go into it. I’ll explain once we’re on safe ground.”
“Doesn’t sound like there is such a thing there.”
“It’s not as bad as you’ve seen on the news. At least not where we’re going.”
Jet pushed herself up. “You know where we are?”
“Yes. That charming bit of architecture we just passed was Novaya Tavolzhanka. At this pace we’ll be at the border in five or six more minutes.”
Yulia descended the metal ladder mounted to the side of the car and Jet followed. “How’s your ankle?” Jet asked as they stood on the narrow platform between the two rail cars, trying to judge the speed.
“I’ll manage. Ready?”