Poe (11 page)

The boy seemed to notice this, too, and moved again to the right, jumping over the next set of tracks. But as he went over the final rail, his toe caught the top, sending him flying through the air, his arms outstretched in front of him as if he were Superman.

With a thud and a loud groan, he hit the ground less than a foot in front of the next set of tracks. Any farther and he would have cracked his skull on the rail. As it was, his right arm had smacked hard against the steel.

“Ah, ah, ah!” He cried in pain, grabbing his arm.

Alex reached him a few seconds later, putting a hand on his back. “Don’t move.”

He tried to shake her off. “Let go.”

At least he spoke English.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said. “I just want to see where you’re injured.”

Reluctantly, he let her look him over. His forearm was definitely broken. It lay bent on the ground as if it had a second elbow. She gave him credit for not passing out from the pain. As she finished checking him, she noticed he was still clutching Romee’s red passport, and what appeared to be a small, zippered pouch with a floral design.

“Were these worth it?” She ripped them from his hand and slipped them into her pocket.

The train whistled again, and as she looked up, she realized they’d both been wrong. It wasn’t on the other track, but on the one the kid’s arm was now lying across.

“Sorry,” she said, then grabbed his shoulders and lifted him up.

Clutching his broken limb, he screamed. Alex ignored the howl, and half carried, half dragged the boy over the tracks, back to where the platform stopped.

The train passed by with another blow of its whistle as she was setting the thief down. Seconds later, two police officers arrived. They paused for a moment, catching their breath, before talking to Alex in Ukrainian.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t understand.”

They tried again, but she shrugged and shook her head, so they turned their attention to the boy, barking at him in their native language.

Struggling through his pain, the kid said something that made both officers look at Alex, then the one closest to her grabbed her arm.

“Hey!” she cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He whirled her around and started patting her down, stopping at the pocket where she’d put Romee’s pouch and passport. He pointed at the bulge and said something sharp and abrupt.

She shook her head. “Uh-uh. No way.”

He pointed again, and repeated his words more forcefully.

She pressed her lips tightly together, and pulled out Romee’s things. She didn’t want to, but she let him take the items from her. He opened the passport, looked at the picture, then at her, and back at the picture.

She didn’t have to understand Ukrainian to know what he meant when he spoke again.

“Yeah, I know,” she told him. “Not me. That belongs to my friend.” She pointed at the kid. “He took it.”

The cop ignored her and unzipped the pouch, revealing the tip of a wad of cash.

His eyes widened slightly and he said something to the boy, who responded quickly and nodded emphatically. The cop turned to Alex, repeated almost the same words to her, while holding out the pouch and gesturing to the boy.

“No, it’s
not
his,” she said, then pointed to herself. “It’s mine. Well, my friend’s. It’s definitely not his.”

Looking annoyed, the cop studied her a moment before he turned to his partner. A quick conference resulted in the first one helping the boy to his feet as his partner grabbed Alex’s arm again.

The officers escorted Alex and the boy back toward the station. Heike and Romee were waiting right outside the doors. The two girls ran over as Alex and the others neared the end of the platform.

“Are you all right?” Heike asked.

Alex nodded. “Fine.”

Heike looked at the boy. “My God, what happened to him?”

“He didn’t watch where he was going.”

The cop holding the boy spoke abruptly, waving the girls out of his way.

Seeing the passport in his hand, Romee said, “Is that mine?”

“Yeah,” Alex told her.

Romee pointed at the passport, and said to the cop, “Give that to me.”

The cops stopped, and the one holding the passport opened it to look at the picture.

“He’s got your money, too,” Alex said.

“My money?”

“A little zippered pouch. Flowers on the outside?”

Romee stiffened and her face paled. She said something under her breath in Dutch, then whispered to Heike. Heike’s eyes grew big as her friend spoke, and her expression turned angry. Romee cowered a bit, saying something in a tone that could only be pleading.

“What?” Alex asked, afraid of the answer.

Heike stared at her friend for a moment longer, then turned to Alex. “Do they speak English?”

“No, but Mr. Quick Fingers over there does a little, at least.”

Heike looked confused for a moment, then seemed to understand who Alex meant. She leaned in so no one else could hear. “Did they look inside?”

“Just enough to see the cash. Why? What’s in there?”

“Not here,” Heike whispered.

While they were talking, the cop compared the passport photo to Romee. Finally, he pointed at the two girls and gestured for them to come along.

Pantomiming as she spoke, Romee said, “I don’t want to cause trouble for the boy. Just give me my things and we forget everything.”

Son of a bitch
, Alex thought.

She realized now what was going on.

Somewhere in that pouch was hash or marijuana or something similar. Whatever it was, it would land them all in a whole boatload of trouble. Which meant her mission was about to end before it even started.

Shit
.

The police officer repeated his gestures, this time emphasizing it with words. He shoved the passport and pouch into his pocket, and grabbed Romee’s arm with his free hand. The other cop latched on to Heike and they continued on their way.

They were quite a sight for all the waiting passengers. Alex would have laughed at the irony if she could have. There would be no problem getting thrown into prison now. Unfortunately, given that she was still hundreds of miles from Crimea, it wouldn’t be the
right
prison.

How the hell would she get out of this?

The police took them into a small three-room office down a back hallway of the station. They put the girls in one room and shut the door. Alex could hear them moving around in the outer room for a few minutes, then it grew quiet. She guessed they were getting the boy some medical attention.

She looked at Romee, and said in a low voice, “What the hell’s in that pouch?”

Romee hesitated. “Marijuana.”

Jesus
. “How much?”

“Very little. Not even enough to make smoke, um, joint, yes?”

Alex closed her eyes and counted to ten. Did this idiot not understand anything? In some countries, even a trace amount could get you a dozen years in prison.

Alex wasn’t up on the latest Ukrainian laws, but she knew they had to be a hell of a lot harsher than those in the Netherlands, where you could legally buy pot at the corner coffee shop.

“They probably won’t even find it,” Romee said.

Alex opened her eyes again. “The moment they pull your money out, they’ll see it.”

“No. It’s in the lining. There’s a hole at the bottom, closed with a safety pin. If they don’t open the pin, they won’t find it.”

“How much do you want to bet on that happening?”

Alex checked her watch. It was 9:50, two hours and change until her train left. A train she couldn’t miss. Dammit. She should have just let the guy run.

Voices in the outer office again, three separate ones this time. While Alex recognized two as belonging to the cops, the third was definitely not the boy’s. It was female.

Several minutes passed, then the door to their room opened. The main cop stood in the doorway, pointed at Alex, and gestured for her to follow him. She pushed herself off the desk she was leaning against and headed out. The other two girls started to fall in step behind her, but the cop barked at them and shook his head.

As soon as Alex was out, he shut the door.

The other cop was standing near the woman. She was a bit older than both men, perhaps in her forties, with a stern face that wasn’t helped by her pulled-back hair.

The cop led Alex to the third room, the smallest of the lot. He jutted his chin at the lone empty chair. Alex took the hint and sat.

As the stern-faced woman stepped inside, the cop closed the door, leaving his partner outside on guard duty. He and the woman stared at Alex for a long moment without saying anything.

Finally, Alex held out her hands. “Can I help you?”

The woman smiled humorlessly. “Your name, please.”

Alex was relieved that she spoke English. “Maureen Powell.”

“May I have your passport?”

Alex pulled her passport out of her pocket and handed it over. The woman examined it, then handed it to the man.

“Canadian, I see,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And you are in Ukraine for…?”

“Holiday.”

“Your entry stamp is from today. Good way to start trip, yes?”

“Not exactly.”

That smile again. “Please, tell us exactly what happened.”

Alex proceeded to describe the events as she’d witnessed them. She paused every now and then so that the woman could translate her response to the police officer. She was honest and straightforward, leaving nothing out.

“So you were trying to get back items for friend?”

“That’s correct.”

“I see.” A pause. “How long have you known friend?”

“We just met today.”

“Today?” the woman said, surprised. “You very nice to someone known to you only a few hours.”

“That kid tried to steal something. I don’t like it when someone takes something that’s not theirs. I don’t care if I’ve just met the victim or known her all my life.”

A sneer grew on the woman’s face. “So you are good person.”

“Maybe. Does it matter? Look, you’ve got the guy. He obviously had Romee’s passport and bag. Is there a problem?”

“He say he not know why you chase him. He say items you say he take, you have, not him.”

“Of course he does. Just talk to my friends. They saw him take it. There’s probably another half a dozen people wandering around the station who saw him do it. Do you guys have cameras? It has to be on video, too.”

“Talk your friends next.”

“But you talked to the kid first, huh? And you believe him?” Alex shook her head. “You know what? As far as I’m concerned, you can keep what he took. I’ve got a train to catch.” She rose to her feet.

“Please. Sit back down.”

“I really don’t have time to hang around here any longer.”

“You will leave when we say it’s okay.”

“You’ve got no reason to keep me here.”

“There is matter of boy’s broken arm.”

“What about it?”

“He says you pushed him.”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t even close enough to touch him, let alone push. The kid tripped over the rail. I bet if you went back there, you could see scuff marks and figure it out all on your own.”

“If this is case, he would not have trip if you had not chased him, no?”

Now Alex was getting pissed. “And I wouldn’t have chased him if he hadn’t
stolen
my friend’s passport and pouch. Tell me, what would you have done if it had been your friend?”

They went back and forth like this for several minutes, before they returned Alex to the other room and exchanged her with Romee. It was now almost ten thirty. The time until Alex’s train departed was growing dangerously short. And unless they were all released in the next twenty minutes or so, the Dutch girls were definitely going to miss theirs. Of course, they didn’t have an appointment to be arrested the next day in Crimea. It would be only an inconvenience for them, while for Alex it would mean losing out on the opportunity to get a lead on her father.

After Romee, it was Heike’s turn.

Romee took a chair as far from Alex as she could, occasionally looking over, meek and wary.

“Did they…did they ask you about the pouch?” the girl finally asked.

Alex waited a moment before she answered. “No.”

“They didn’t say anything to me, either,” Romee said quickly. “I don’t think they found—”

“Shut up,” Alex said.

“Sorry. I was just…I’m…” Romee’s shoulders drooped. “What’s going to happen to us?”

Alex decided it was best not to answer that question.

It was almost eleven when Heike was ushered back in.

As soon as the three were alone, Romee asked Heike a question in Dutch.

“I don’t know,” Heike said in English. It was clear she was still angry with her friend, and wanted to include Alex. “They didn’t tell me anything.”

Alex heard the main door to the outer office open, then new voices. She cursed under her breath. Just what she needed. Additional authorities to slow things down even more. She had been toying with a last-ditch plan to make a run for it the next time the door to their makeshift cell opened. She was more than confident she could get away from the two bozos who’d been holding them, and somehow get on that train and leave town. It would mean leaving without her passport and her backpack, which, hopefully, Anika was still watching. The backpack was unimportant, but the lack of a passport would be a problem. Still, it would be better to be headed to Crimea than stuck here on a potential drug charge. But if the cops now had friends, that escape plan was not nearly as viable.

The voices outside grew heated until a bark of finality silenced the room. When the conversation resumed, the tones were quieter and more contrite.

Footsteps approached the door to the girls’ room. When the door opened, the two original cops were standing there, looking unhappy. One of them blurted out something while the other waved for the girls to come out.

Not needing a second invitation, they filed into the larger room. There were three new men there now, two uniformed cops probably in their twenties, and a middle-aged man in a suit.

The older man barked something at the original officers. There was a second’s hesitation, then passports were produced and returned to the girls.