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

take her mind off the flight by going over the facts of the case. Unfortunately, she was constantly distracted by a low level of panic generated by the rough air pockets the plane went through, and by the way the flight attendants constantly took smoking breaks with the passengers on a non-smoking flight. Someone had a cat, which kept yowling from fright in its carrying case. As well, Jana’s seat belt was missing, the windows were scratched to opaqueness, the upholstery was torn, and, finally, there was the dive-bomber approach by the pilots to the Kiev airport as the striking climax to a very interesting flight. The only thing she had to be happy about was that Mikhail Gruschov met her when she walked down the steps to the concrete passenger disembarkation area.
    “Janka,” he thundered from his 190-centimeter height, his militia uniform adding to his authority and bulk. Everyone exiting the plane gave him a wide berth. Mikhail’s generally grim police face was for once modified by a huge grin. “I love you, Janka.”
    Mikhail was the only person she knew who still used her nickname. He grabbed her in a bear hug, almost smothering her against his chest. “Janka, I am so glad we could see each other again.”
    Jana took a deep breath when he finally let her come up for air. “Me too, Mikhail.” He looked like he was going to hug her again, so she thrust the box of candy she had brought from Bratislava into his hands. “For Adriana. Milk chocolate with nuts.”
    “She will love them,” he bellowed. It was the one characteristic of Mikhail that Jana always had problems with: He refused to speak below a roar.
    Mikhail swept Jana through customs ahead of everyone else and without an examination, then to a car waiting for them at the front entrance to the terminal. “We rented the apartment downstairs for your stay. The woman, reliable, I’ve known her for years, has a nice place. Clean. A big bed. Better to sleep there than on our couch.”
    “A hotel room would have done.”
    “Not in Kiev!” His roar was only slightly muted in the car. “Better to rent an apartment than fight the bedbugs, thieves, and smell of alcohol and disinfectant in those places. You would need a gas mask to survive.”
    “I am a born survivor,” she advised him.
    “So am I,” he allowed. “Except it is always better to survive in the most pleasant circumstances one can obtain.” He switched gears, becoming more professional. “You know, the stuff you are asking for is not going to be easy to come by. It’s not my department. I supervise traffic cops. Everybody here guards their own farm. If you control information, you control your job. So they hold it close to their chests. However, there is a guy I know who owes me small favors. His wife got drunk and drove her car into a storefront. I helped him quash any problems.”
    “You are becoming corrupt, Mikhail.”
    “A little corruption in the right places never hurts. It allows me to do my job. I help him; he helps me. One hand washes the other. How does it hurt to aid a comrade’s wife? Besides, he divorced her.”
    “For a younger woman?”
    “Young but ugly. She’s already drinking.” His laughter was an even louder roar, the sound’s impact causing the driver of the car to swerve. “Watch your driving!” he yelled at his chauffeur. “You could get us all killed.”
    Jana looked at Mikhail with disapproval. Mikhail’s face adopted a faked, comically sheepish look. “The driver, he needs to keep his eyes on the road. What if someone threw a bomb at the car? Would he flinch from the noise?”
    “Not after having to listen to you, Mikhail.”
    “That’s good to hear. Now we can continue on with confidence.” He took her hand in his huge paw, the two of them old pals, sitting in comfortable silence the rest of the way to police headquarters.

Chapter 10
    T he nightclub was drab, to say the least. Grimy was probably a better description. Nothing indicated that it was