-4-

As soon as he saw it, Hannibal understood why Raisa thought this letter was so important. It was typed on heavy, crème-colored stationery with a classic watermark and it carried the letterhead of Leon Martin, a vice president of the Chemical Banking Corporation in New York City. It was a formal letter of introduction addressed to Raisa Petrova.

This is to introduce you to Dani Gana, who has been a substantial depositor at our institution for five years. He has asked our bank to formally introduce him to you because of your position as a pillar of the community in Washington.

Mr. Gana is a man of influence in both business and government circles in his native Algeria. He now wishes to establish financial ties in the United States and has asked us to help him establish valuable contacts.

Mr. Gana will be in your area in the next few days and he shall be contacting you soon to arrange a meeting.

I am sure you will benefit if you agree to see him.

Sincerely

If Gana wanted to establish his legitimacy, this was a powerful bit of evidence. Assuming, Hannibal thought, that the letter itself was legitimate.

“I take it you know Mr. Martin?” Hannibal asked.

“He has handled my personal finances for more than a decade.”

“I see. Well, thank you. This helps a lot. May I borrow this? I’d like to contact Mr. Martin to confirm his relationship with Mr. Gana.”

“Perhaps,” Raisa said, lowering herself into her seat. “On one condition.”

“And that would be?”

Raisa leaned in again, pulling out her seductive voice. “You are a professional investigator, yes? Someone has hired you to investigate Dani. What I want you to do is to drop the case. Give these two a chance to succeed. Give my Viktoriya a chance to find her happiness.”

Hannibal wondered if it would make any difference to Raisa if she knew that the life of the woman he loved hung in the balance. No, he decided, it would not. Like any mother, the happiness of her child was her highest priority. But did Ivanovich want to destroy Viktoriya’s life? All he had asked for was the truth.

“I promise that I won’t do anything that hurts either of them if Gana turns out to be all you say he is. But before I make that determination, I have to meet the man himself.”

“By all means, go and meet him,” Raisa said, sitting back and swallowing half her cup of tea in one long drink. “I expect him to be back from his morning business by eleven. I’ll call and tell him to expect you.”

* * * * *

Before speaking with Dani Gana, Hannibal had a previous appointment. The time in his car gave him a chance to think through his conversation with Mrs. Petrova. He considered why the letter from a banker might mean so much to her. She did have a fine home, but its value had nothing to do with the cost of maintaining it. His read of the woman was that she would never part with it, even if she couldn’t afford to keep it up. It was symbolic of the fortune her husband had made for her and her daughter. A wealthy man in her daughter’s life could be insurance of a sort.

But if she wanted the man to stay in his daughter’s life, that raised its own questions. Knowing that Hannibal was investigating her prospective son-in-law, why had she dealt with Hannibal so kindly?

It didn’t take Hannibal long to reach the meeting place for his appointment. The drive to one of the southwest entrances to Rock Creek Park was brief, and it took Hannibal only five minutes to find the man he had arranged to meet.

On a map, the District is an almost perfect square balanced on one corner. Rock Creek Park is a long swath of green shoved up into the upper corner, with the Maryland towns of Chevy Chase on its left and Silver Spring on its right. At the worst of times it has been an island of tranquility in the tumultuous city, a place where ash, beech, birch and butternut, hickory, elm, and cedar trees can all live together. It is also a place where bikers and hippies, hikers and joggers, Republicans and Democrats, and even law-abiding citizens and retired professional criminals can find peaceful coexistence.

Before he made eye contact with Anthony Ronzini, Hannibal spotted his two-man protective detail. These were big, beefy men who wanted the world to know they were there. Ronzini had few living enemies, but his boys didn’t want any muggers or pickpockets to think he was an easy target. They both recognized Hannibal as he approached and one tapped his boss on the shoulder. Ronzini stood back, letting an elder jogger pass him on the gravel path he had chosen for his morning constitutional.

Ronzini was a big man who appeared physically soft, but if you looked into his eyes you could still see the hardness of his youth. As a young man, Ronzini made his fortune as a pimp, a gambler, and a fixer. Now he was simply a man who knew people, knew things, and took a slice of other people’s activities in exchange for his permission to do business unmolested in certain parts of town. Hannibal had never imagined this man wearing a blue sweat suit and running shoes, but even in that outfit he exuded a quiet menace.

“Good morning, Mr. Ronzini,” Hannibal said in the soft voice he used for those he wished to show respect. “How is your son these days?”

“Salvatore is doing well up in New Jersey,” Ronzini said, walking at an easy pace. “I must grudgingly thank you for showing him the error of his ways when he was dealing drugs. He is really doing much better in gambling operations.”

Gravel crunched under their feet. The air was crisp and sweet from the mingled scents of a bewildering variety of trees and flowering plants that formed an endless green tunnel for them to walk down. Yet Hannibal carried a sour taste in his mouth as he considered asking Ronzini for assistance.

“Go ahead,” Ronzini said, as if reading Hannibal’s mind. “It gets easier each time you admit you need someone else’s help.”

“It’s not someone, it’s you,” Hannibal said. “I shouldn’t have to go to a criminal to get my job done.”

“But I seem to be the person who knows what you need to know,” Ronzini said, taking a deep breath and letting it leak out. He seemed to enjoy his life more than a retired professional criminal should. “What do you need to know?”

Hannibal walked with his hands in his pockets, eyes to the ground. “What do you know about the Russian mob?”

“Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Aleksandr Ivanovich.”

Ronzini stopped in his tracks. His two escorts looked around as if they sensed ghosts in the woods. Ronzini turned to face Hannibal.

“You know, I respect you,” he said. Hannibal felt a blush begin, and then hated himself for being flattered by this man’s respect.

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No, seriously, I do,” Ronzini said. “In a lifetime of dealing with dangerous men, you are one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met, and one of the most determined. You are smart and tough and you have character. There are few I would bet on against you. So when I say this Ivanovich is a man that you don’t want to mess with, you should understand what that means.”

“Don’t always have the choice.”

“Unless what you are really asking for is some help from a few of my boys. Is that it?” Ronzini resumed his walk. He seemed to enjoy the fresh air and verdant view. A step behind, Hannibal considered this veiled offer. He probably could get a team of professional muscle to go after Ivanovich. But that would mean they’d have to go crashing into his office. But if Ivaonvich was telling the truth, that would also mean that his agents would hurt or maybe kill Cindy. He could not put her at risk, and besides, that simply wasn’t the way he worked.

“No, forget that. The guy I really want to know about is named Dani Gana.”

“Oh yes, the recently arrived Algerian,” Ronzini said with a nod. “He’s quite a hit in some parts of the city’s high society.”

“Yeah. Do you happen to know if he’s who he says he is?”

“I haven’t had any reason to doubt it,” Ronzini said. “The right people seem to know him.”

Hannibal saw a rabbit near the edge of the trail. It wriggled its nose and watched the men pass as if they represented no danger. If that bunny only knew, Hannibal thought.

“I’ve heard that Gana is a legitimate businessman. I’ve also been told he has ties to the Russian mob. The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that he has money. Know anything about that?”

“I know he opened an account in the Provident Bank two weeks ago. Opened it with a couple hundred thousand dollars.”

How does he know this stuff? Hannibal wondered. Aloud he asked, “Is it mob money?”

“Who do I look like, Tony Soprano?” Ronzini asked.

Well, yes, you kind of do, Hannibal thought.

“I need to find out where that cash came from,” Hannibal said. “If he stole it, things go one way. If he earned it, things go another way. If he borrowed it to impress his prospective mother-in-law, well, then he’s busted.”

Ronzini stopped at a wooden bench on the side of the trail and smiled at Hannibal. “This is about vetting a groom? You never cease to surprise me. Who is the lucky girl?”

Hannibal moved to the opposite edge of the trail. “Her name is Viktoriya Petrova. The reason I asked about the Russians is that she has mob connections.”

Ronzini laughed one loud, harsh laugh. “Viktoriya? Is this Raisa’s little girl?”

This time Hannibal said it out loud. “How do you know this stuff?”

“I got history with the Petrovas,” Ronzini said, his smile fading off into the past. “Pleasant history, as it happens. I knew the girl’s father, Nikita. For his little girl, I’ll check into this Gana for you. If he’s not legit, you can run him off her, right?”

“That’s the job,” Hannibal said. “I take it you liked her old man.”

“Respected him,” Ronzini said. “He was a fixer, helped the Russians get established in this town, but he was also kind of like you. Smart guy, tough guy, lived by his own code. Nobody to mess with. Cops said he threw himself off a roof.”

“What do you say?”

“I say guys like you don’t throw themselves off roofs. I know how things were back then. I’d put my money on Ivanovich.”

Hannibal nodded and stepped closer so that Ronzini’s bodyguards would not hear his words. “I really appreciate the information, Tony. And thank you for checking into Gana. I promise you I’m going to look out for the girl’s best interest.”

Ronzini nodded. They both knew that his boys didn’t like to hear people using Ronzini’s first name. They took it as disrespect. But as Hannibal turned away, Ronzini pulled his jacket lapel.

“One more thing. The Santiago girl. She’s got a mouth on her, but she’s a righteous innocent.”

“Yeah? What about her?” Hannibal ignored the hand, watching Ronzini’s eyes.

“Those boys watching her. Maybe it would be good to have some boys watching them? You know, just in case something happened.”

How does he know this stuff? Hannibal considered Ronzini. He was no longer a crime leader, but he was a player, and not without influence. He didn’t have to bother with these things. There could be only one reason for such an offer.

“That would be... thank you, Tony. I owe you a big one.”

“You already owe me big, Jones. Now go find out what you can about this Gana, and I’ll do the same.”

* * * * *

In his car Hannibal decided to try again to play with one of his new toys. The Volvo S60 was a gift from a wealthy client as compensation for Hannibal’s previous car that was totaled while working that client’s case. Cindy had given him an iPod, loaded it with his music, and showed him the basics of how to make it work. Monte, the teenager he mentored, had installed a device that allowed him to plug the iPod into the Black Beauty’s stereo system, directing his chosen tunes through an impressive bank of Bang and Olufsen speakers. He could control it all from the steering wheel. If he pushed the right buttons in the right order, he could get the telephone to work, hands free, through those same speakers.

He knew it was childish, but that in no way reduced his joy when he managed to call Cindy without taking his hands off the wheel.

“Hey, baby. You messing around with the car phone again?”

“Yeah, but this time I did it on purpose,” Hannibal said. “I just wanted to tell you...”

“That you’re taking me to dinner at a place I’ve never been before?”

“Sorry, Cindy,” Hannibal said, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m afraid I’m stuck on a case and won’t be able to see you tonight. I also won’t be able to get away to look at that house with you today.” Not quite a lie, he thought, but close enough for him to hate it.

“No problem,” she said. “I was busy too, so I moved the appointment to tomorrow.”

Hannibal gritted his teeth. “Well, I expect this case to keep me busy tomorrow too.”

“Yeah, well I know you didn’t really want to go anyway, lover, but it’s OK. I’ll give you a full report. What’s the case about?”

His relief that she didn’t push about his absence was crowded out of his head by unexpected disappointment. A part of him wanted it to be a big deal to her. He stopped at a red light, took a deep breath, and put his smile back into place. He knew she would hear it on the other end of the phone.

“I’ve been asked to check a guy out before he marries into a certain family. You know, make sure he’s legit and who he says he is, and so forth.”

“Anything a lawyer could help with?” Cindy asked.

“I don’t know. He claims to be Algerian. Know any way I could prove that?”

Hannibal thought she might have insight into the customs process or some similar legal check, but she surprised him. “Well, I do know this professor at Howard. Krada’s his name, Jamal Krada. I think he teaches history. Anyhow, he’s from Algeria. I bet he could tell you if this other guy’s really from there.”

“Hey that is a really good lead, babe. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, lover. But listen, I need to get into court now. Talk to you later?”

They said their hurried good-byes and Hannibal used operator assistance to find his way through the Howard University telephone tree to Jamal Krada’s office. As it turned out, Krada had no morning classes. When Hannibal dropped Cindy’s name, Krada invited him to lunch at his home. He was just completing the arrangements as he pulled into a parking space in front of Gana’s house. Black Beauty was now in the space the brown Saturn had occupied earlier. As he looked up the driveway to the front door, he hoped his visit would have a happier ending than Ben Cochran’s had. He walked up the winding asphalt path and rang the bell. He was startled at how quickly it swung open, as if the resident had been waiting for someone.

Gana stood in a sky blue suit and wingtips polished until they glistened. He scanned Hannibal up and down, staring into his sunglasses for a second before saying, “You must be Hannibal Jones, the private detective that Mrs. Petrova told me about. It is an honor to be investigated.”