Chapter 9: The Lead

It wasn't until the next week that Munch managed to get an appointment at GeoZet, Inc., the company Johan Spijker founded. He'd never heard of it before. They didn't deal with making and marketing jewelry; they sold raw gems to the jewelry companies, which, Munch noted with amusement, made them the middleman he kept hearing about.

He called in sick and went to GeoZet's New York office. It occupied the top floor of a skyscraper, and he had to produce two forms of ID, answer several questions, and endure a frisking before he was even allowed on the elevator.

"I'm John Munch. I have an appointment..." He hoped he wouldn't have to explain further. He didn't even know who would be meeting him. When he was trying to make the appointment, one person he'd talked to on the phone laughed out loud when he said he wanted to speak with Johan Spijker.

He was asked for ID again, then the receptionist called him in.

A nearby door opened, and a young woman poked her head out. "Detective Munch, I presume?"

"In the flesh," he replied.

"Come in. Sit down."

He did. The office was sparsely furnished. It looked like it wasn't occupied on a regular basis. It lacked photos, books, or any other of the usual personal touches, but there was a great view from the window.

The woman closed the door. He watched her as she walked to the chair on the other side of the desk. She was young, but maybe not as young as his initial impression. She was average height, had curly brown hair pulled into a loose partial bun, and piercing brown eyes. She wore a silver choker necklace with a seashell-shaped stone with a rainbow sheen on the pendant. She wasn't particularly attractive, but had an intensity that commanded attention. She moved as though her body was made of purpose. It was almost frightening. Before she took her seat, her hand darted out like a snake or a knife.

"Clara Onan. I'm Mr. Spijker's personal assistant."

Munch shook her hand. Her grip was firm and smooth. "Nice to meet you."

"You implied that you're wanted to know about GeoZet's deal with one Serim Araizhanova." To Munch's surprise, she pronounced the exotic name perfectly.

"That's right. As you may know, she's recently been convicted of murder, a murder some people still aren't sure she committed."

Miss Onan nodded. "I updated myself on the situation when I received your request. Her association with my company was well before my time, of course."

"But you can tell me the details?"

"In 1985, one year after GeoZet was formed, one of Johan Spijker's associates got in some legal trouble in the USSR. Araizhanova represented him and cleared up the mess. When she later contacted Spijker in South Africa and asked for a favor, he was happy to help. We at GeoZet pride ourselves on repaying favors."

"Is that so."

Miss Onan ignored the cynical remark. "Mr. Spijker arranged for her to be listed as a temporary employee for a shipment from South Africa to the Bahamas. He also gave her a small loan to cover debts she'd incurred between Soviet Kazakhstan and South Africa."

"How small of a loan?"

"Eleven thousand dollars. That's chump change in this business."

"Did she ever repay it?"

"She's been making regular payments, but now that she's incarcerated, that could become problematic. Mr. Spijker and this company had nothing to do with Araizhanova's legal predicament."

"Do you know who might? She had a lot of enemies even before she left Russia."

"Then one of them might have done it. She bought the help of some unsavory characters to get out of Russia."

"I think she knows who did it, but she won't tell me."

"Why not?"

"I have no idea. It might have been a rival attorney who was jailed because of her, but I don't know his name."

"That could be a problem. I can tell you, records from the Soviet era are a nightmare." She looked at him calculatingly. "However, I think there might be someone who can help you. One of the...businessmen...who helped Araizhanova get out of Russia is now residing in New York. His name is Konstantin Budny. He may know more about Ms. Araizhanova's enemies, but I can't guarantee he'll agree to talk to you."

"Just tell me where I can find him."

With two blinks, Miss Onan's eyes flicked to the table, then back to him with a firm, pinning gaze. "GeoZet does not associate with anything remotely unethical. I want to make that perfectly clear."

"Of course not." Munch almost sighed. How many times had he played this game? Then something occurred to him: he had nothing on Clara Onan or GeoZet, and she had no personal interest in Serim Araizhanova; why would she help him?

Miss Onan read Munch's expression. "You're wondering why I'm helping you," she stated. "You are an officer currently in good standing with the NYPD, but you're not here in an official capacity, correct?" Munch didn't answer, which she took as a confirmation. She wrote an address on a sheet of note paper. "Like I said, GeoZet prides itself on repaying favors, and so do I. We also keep careful track of favors owed to us." She handed him the address. "I look forward to any possible future dealings, Mr. Munch."

Munch hesitantly took the paper, and felt like he was handing over a chunk of whatever integrity he had left in exchange.