Siren of the Waters: A Jana Matinova Investigation, Vol. 2 by Michael Genelin

them. Also a complete set of photos of the bodies.”
    “Thank you, Doctor,” Jana nodded. “Very professional.”
    “We are all professionals here. Even the dead are professionals at being dead.” He chuckled at his little joke. Jana wondered how often he told it. “None of them have ever tried to pretend to be anything other than what they are: carcasses.”

Chapter 9
    T rokan didn’t like it. And after he told the minister what the investigation seemed to be suggesting, the minister liked it even less. They now had one definite murder of the woman pulled from the Danube, and seven possible murders from the car holocaust, all requiring investigation, and all on their plates. Knowing the Slovak penchant for blaming everything on corrupt officials bribed to cover things up, and with the EU and the UN looking over their shoulders, they had no alternative but to listen with open minds to Jana’s request.
    Identification had been made of the remaining dead prostitutes. Aside from the Slovak, there were four from Ukraine, and one from Moldova with a last known address in Ukraine. From what they knew of the driver, he was either from Ukraine or Albania; the woman who had been shot behind the ear and tossed into the Danube was originally from Ukraine. Too many coincidences, Jana argued with the minister and Trokan. She had to go to Ukraine.
    The minister was very definite in his response. “Too expensive. We have mutual legal assistance treaties with them. Use the telephone. Use the fax. Use e-mail. Have their officers investigate.” Jana sat without moving, looking at him. “So?” he finally asked.
    “The militia in Ukraine is up to their balls in criminality themselves. The ones who are not corrupt are notoriously slow in doing anything about their own cases, much less another country’s.” Unblinking, she continued to stare at the minister. “Only through personal, face-to-face contacts, which I have established over the years—”
    “Nonsense!” the minister got out.
    “—which I have established over the years, will we get quick, relevant information.” She not so subtly added, “Strasbourg is going to want to know a little more than that we have positively identified six dead bodies. One of their secretaries could have done that with a few well-placed phone calls.”
    The minister slumped in his seat, caving in. He couldn’t afford to take another beating in the press, considering the current shaky state of the coalition government.
    The minister authorized the expenditures, and blamed Trokan, in front of Jana, for not being able to control his subordinates. When they finally left the office, Trokan was so angry with the minister that he was grinding his teeth. Trokan’s mood became even worse when Jana indicated that she had brought her bag to the office in anticipation of being given permission to go to Ukraine. She was leaving at once to catch her plane.
    “Leave! Leave!” he growled at her. “But you better come back with something.” He thought about it. “Anything!”
    The building had a rotating elevator with open cubicle platforms that never stopped descending, one cubicle quickly dropping after the other. Trokan jumped on one of the moving platforms, yelling that he was going to have to leap from the top of Michalska Tower if she returned from Ukraine without something solid. He then kicked at one of the walls. Her last sight of him was his descending head mouthing something that could only be a promise of more violence, this time directed at her.
    She was not troubled. Trokan recognized the necessity for her to go to Ukraine. He would eventually forgive her for the minister’s behavior.
    To get to Kiev, the capital of Ukraine, you must fly either Aeroflot or one of its affiliated airlines. Singly or combined, they have one of the worst safety records of any airline, and they appear not to encourage their passengers to think that they are trying to improve that record.
    Jana tried to