Austin Camacho - Russian Roulette

“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.”

Dani Gana turned his back to Hannibal and led him into the house without looking back. It was an unexpected expression of trust. Hannibal followed Gana through the house, which looked bigger on the inside than it had from outside. Gana paused in the living room and stared into the fireplace as if trying to decide something. This gave Hannibal a chance to look around. He was admiring the shoji screens in the dining room when he noticed what looked like a packing box beside a large oak desk. One side of the desk was covered with papers, but the pigeonholes on one side were all empty.

“Yes,” Gana declared, indicating that he had made a decision. He moved quickly into the kitchen and returned with a large coffee mug. Then he led Hannibal through the living room to the patio beyond.

The patio overlooked a modest swimming pool. Beyond that, a long terraced garden separated them from the back of the Petrova house. Gana opened the insulated carafe on the table and filled a mug for Hannibal, then filled his own that was already there.

“Yes, this is better than being cooped up in the house,” Gana said. “Now have a seat and tell me how I can help you.”

“Actually, I thought I might be able to help you,” Hannibal said. “I was in the area this morning to speak to Mrs. Petrova. When I was walking past this house it looked like you were having a bit of trouble with somebody.”

“That was minor,” Gana said, flashing a broad smile. Up close, his smile dazzled and his eyes twinkled with energy. “A little fender bender, actually. I did have to take my car in for repair after the incident.” He sipped his coffee, watching Hannibal over the edge of his cup.

“That I might be able to help you with,” Hannibal said. He pulled a card from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Here’s a very good limousine service I often use when my car is in the shop. So, you don’t mind talking to me? I’d just like to know a little about your background.”

“I have nothing to hide from Hannibal Jones, the famous Washington troubleshooter. Ask me anything.”

“All right,” Hannibal said. “I’d like to know how you met the Petrovas but I’d also like to know how you know me.”

“I’ve known Viktoriya Petrova for years. She knows that I will give her love and a good life. And you are a professional, I know that much. So someone must have hired you. Who would want to investigate me?”

Hannibal sipped his coffee, then sipped again and smiled. “Very nice.”

“Isn’t that good?” Gana asked, crossing his legs. “I have it imported from Algeria. Did you know the Sufis made this drink so popular? Members of the Shadhiliyya order spread coffee drinking throughout the Islamic world back in the thirteenth century. A Shadhiliyya shaikh was introduced to coffee drinking in Ethiopia. To this day the shaikh is regarded as the patron saint of coffee-growers back home. In fact, in Algeria coffee is sometimes called shadhiliyye in his honor. ”

“I am familiar with the coffee of the region,” Hannibal said. “How do you know me?”

Gana watched the sun glint off the surface of the pool for a second before answering. “I will admit that when Mother Petrova told me that you planned to visit me I went to the computer and Googled you. Does this trouble you?”

“It’s all public knowledge,” Hannibal said, although it did make him a little uneasy. Had this man read the web log Cindy talked him into starting? He couldn’t say why that bothered him a bit, but now that he thought about it, it seemed odd that no one had done it before.

“And now to my question,” Gana said. “Who has hired you to check up on me? It is Ivanovich, isn’t it? Mother Petrova believes it is. You know, he is simply a jealous suitor who is a poor loser.”

The coffee was dark and rich. As he drank, Hannibal could see all that everyone else saw in Dani Gana. He saw the hypnotic lover who must have swept Viktoriya off her feet. He saw the suave gentleman who would impress any mother with a daughter of marrying age. And he could also see the dangerous risk taker and potential killer Ivanovich knew. The man was smooth as polished marble, but Hannibal would bet he could be just as hard. He returned Gana’s smile, still not sure which of them was the mongoose and which the snake.

“Sorry, I really can’t go around revealing the names of my clients. But surely this Ivanovich guy can’t be the only person on earth interested in you. Who else would want you investigated?”

Gana returned one loud, harsh laugh. “Very good, Mister Jones. But no, I don’t think it is in my best interests to offer you a list of my enemies.” Gana emptied his mug and set it down with a decisive thump. “In fact, I’m not so sure I should help you at all.”

Gana had uncrossed his legs and crossed them the opposite way, and was shaking one foot as he talked. Hannibal reflected that he had the makings of a charismatic leader and might well be a master of the boardroom and wonder in the financial business. He also considered that only a very thin line separated the charismatic leader from the expert confidence man.

“Surely, you’ll give me a chance to relieve any doubt Mrs. Petrova may have before you leave town, which I’ve noticed is likely to be soon.”

Gana rested his palms on the patio table and stood. “Mrs. Petrova has no doubts about me. She has already accepted me as her future son-in-law. And Viktoriya has no doubt of my love and dedication. I owe you and your mysterious client nothing. Yes, it is almost time for me and my Viktoriya to start our new life. I have some business in this city to clean up, but I can take care of it in a couple of days. That means that you have forty-eight hours to learn whatever you can learn, Mr. Jones. Perhaps you should get started now.”

Jamal Krada lived fifteen miles almost due north of Dani Gana’s house. Late morning traffic was surprisingly light for Hannibal. Driving up Wisconsin Avenue got him into Maryland. A short jog over to Connecticut Avenue let him cruise on up to Rockville, one of the District’s bedroom communities. Where else, Hannibal wondered, could a city be the county seat and third largest city in its state and still be considered a suburb?