Natasha leaned back and told General Denikin the reason for the meeting, explaining everything that had taken place, starting with the discovery of Dmitry’s body. She took a tiny sip from her glass. “We would appreciate any assistance you can provide, General.”
Denikin tipped his glass back and finished the drink in one gulp. Rising from the chair, he poured himself another shot of vodka. He took extra time preparing it, mulling over the details Natasha had shared. He returned, but remained standing, gaping at her. “What have you done so far to locate the good general?”
“Over the past four-and-a-half months, I’ve exhausted every legal means possible to find him. I haven’t been able to come up with a single lead.” She was going to continue, but stopped when she saw Denikin motioning toward her with his glass.
“That may be it.” Sitting, he sighed. “Popovich is clever and has a lot of friends. I’m sure he was out of the country within twenty-four hours of the bomb going off in St. Petersburg—once he found out the Premier wasn’t killed, that is.” St. Petersburg was where the assassination attempt had occurred. “If I had to guess, I’d say he’s hiding out in a neighboring country, just over the Russian border.”
Hardy shifted in the couch. “Why do you say that?”
“As I said, the man is clever, has a lot of friends and money and…he likes the ladies.”
Hardy glanced at Natasha. “Excuse me, sir.”
“Years ago, when Popovich and I worked together, he showed a real appetite for…” Denikin glimpsed Natasha, “pardon me,” and turned toward Hardy, “whores, prostitutes, women of the night. In fact, I told him that as smart as he was, his sexual desires were going to be the death of him. Of course, I was referring to him contracting a disease and dying.” Denikin took a drink. “Now, I think his sexual excesses may serve to reveal his location and help,” he pointed, “the two of you catch him.”
“I’m still not following you, sir.” Hardy leaned forward and placed the shot glass on the coffee table before resting his forearms on his thighs. He liked what he was hearing, but he needed clarification. “How are prostitutes going to help us catch him?”
“Popovich doesn’t just like ordinary women. He likes the high-class, upscale women that only those in organized crime can provide. Wherever he is, I can almost guarantee he is not far from access to such women. If you want to find him, then you’re going to have to…as you say in America…‘smoke him out.’”
“How do we do that?” Natasha set her glass next to Hardy’s.
“Well, you said you’ve exhausted all your legal means to find him. Now, you have to employ the illegal ones.” The general smiled before he finished his drink and placed it on the coffee table. The glass hit the table hard enough to cause Medved to jump. The dog’s ears shot up and rotated toward the noise.
“I don’t—”
“We put the word out,” Hardy eyed Denikin, “and a picture of Popovich to all the prostitution rings in the country, asking if they’ve seen the man. If what you say is true, then some girl, somewhere,” Denikin smiled at Hardy, “is going to recognize him. More importantly, she’s going to be able to tell us where she was with him…in essence, smoking him out.”
The general nodded and stood. “And, I can help you get started.” He went to his desk and scribbled on a note pad. “I know some men who deal in various illegal activities; one of them being the sex business.” Returning, he handed Natasha a piece of paper; two names and two addresses were written on it. “I’ll put in a call and tell them to be expecting you. When it comes to prostitution,” he pointed at the paper, “those two control most of the southern half of the country. Tell them you’re looking for Popovich and they’ll ask their girls if they’ve seen him.”
Natasha stood. “Thank you, sir.”
Hardy rose to his feet and shook hands with Denikin. “Thank you, sir.”
The general said farewell to Natasha in the same manner he had greeted her—a polite hug and a peck on each cheek.
Hardy and Natasha said their ‘goodbyes’ to Medved and walked toward the door.
“I knew your father, Natasha. He was a fine man. It’s a shame what happened to him. You have my condolences.”
Natasha spun around. “Thank you.”
“I can see in your eyes that you have his spirit. He was very passionate about everything he did, especially when it came to his country. When this is all over—and you’ve caught that s.o.b., Popovich—maybe you and Mr. Hardy can visit Medved,” the general patted the dog before glancing up at Natasha, “and, I can tell you more about your father.”
She smiled. “I’d like that very much.”
…………………………
Making her way to the vehicle, Natasha had her cell phone out, dialing Mika’s mobile. Two guards opened the front doors of the Patriot, and Hardy and Natasha climbed inside. As the door slammed shut, Natasha heard Mika’s voice. “Mika, I want you to contact the director and have him start circulating Popovich’s picture to every law enforcement agency in the country. I don’t care how small the town. If there’s a police presence there, I want them to have the picture.” She listened to Mika for a few seconds before shaking her head. “This time, it’s different. I want the police to talk to every prostitute in the area…yes, prostitutes. They are to show them the picture of Popovich and ask if the women have seen this man. If they have, we need to know where and when?” Natasha paused. “Good…I want you to run point on this, Mika. Hardy and I are going to be checking on some leads General Denikin gave us. Call me, if you get anything.” Natasha ended her call and started the Patriot. Driving away from the mansion, she glanced at Hardy, who had his phone pressed to his ear. “Who are you calling?”
“Someone,” he stared straight ahead, “who’s extremely talented when it comes to computers. While we’re working the illegal angles, I want Cherry to see if she can find any properties that Popovich might own in other countries.”
Natasha shot him a look. “Cherry? Is that for real?”
Charity Sinclair—her family and close friends called her Cherry—was an information specialist, located in Washington, D.C. She was highly skilled in all areas related to computers. She began working with Hardy almost three months ago. It was her job to provide the necessary technical details of each mission and assist him when it came to intelligence and technology. She and Hardy had clashed in the early stages of their working relationship, due to his belief she was too young and inexperienced. Gradually, she proved she could not only do the job, but could excel at it, helping to save his life on two occasions.
Hardy glanced at Natasha. “It’s a nickname. Her real name is Charity.”
“Anyway,” Natasha steered the vehicle into traffic, “I’ve already looked into Popovich’s legal property holdings. They’re dead-ends. I’ve still got people watching them, in case he makes an appearance at one.”
“I realize that, but it can’t hurt to have another set of eyes looking at this, can it? Cherry is great at this computer stuff. If there—” Hardy heard Charity’s voice. “Cherry, it’s Hardy. General—” he turned to Natasha, “What the hell is Popovich’s first name, anyways?”
Grinning, Natasha said, “Alexander.”
“General Alexander Popovich,” Hardy spelled the last name, “Find everything you can on him. Check his bank accounts, his financial holdings, his investment properties…hell, even his Internet usage…everything you can get your hands on, I want it. And, pay special attention to any properties he may have in countries that border with Russia.”
Charity wrote the name on a pad of paper. “How soon do you need this?”
Hardy smiled.
She heard the gesture through the mobile. “Oh, let me guess…you want it yesterday, or last week.”
“You’re the best, Cherry. Contact me ASAP, if you find anything suspicious.”
She knew the routine well enough, but played along. “I’ll get on it right away and let you know if I find something.”
“Thanks, Cherry.” He disconnected the call and stuffed the cell into the inside pocket of his leather jacket.