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“Definitely be harder. They’ll know what to expect, which means we’ll have to stay one step ahead of them. Before we do anything, I want to look in on Viktor. Let him know we found the phone.”
“I better check in with Selma before she starts worrying.” The call went to voice mail, and Remi left a message.
They were just pulling into the hospital parking lot when Selma called back. “Mr. and Mrs. Fargo. Glad to hear you’re okay. I take it the theft was successful?”
“Not exactly,” Remi said. “You tell her, Sam.”
He related the night’s events, finishing with, “We’re hoping you have something on your end that’ll help. Any luck breaking the code to those letters?”
“I better let Lazlo tell you.”
Lazlo cleared his throat. “Quite the difficult beast, don’t you know. As mentioned before, I’m not even certain it is in code. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to what it all means.”
/> “But,” Remi said, “wasn’t that the very reason you thought it was in code?”
“Originally, yes. Now, however, I’m starting to wonder if it’s something else entirely. It’s almost as if someone went to the trouble to include the letters to throw anyone off, should they discover them.”
“What about the typewriter ribbon tins?” Sam asked him.
“Without having them in our possession, it’s difficult to tell. But, from the photos, they seem like ordinary ribbon tins that were manufactured in Berlin and used during the war. Common, in fact. I don’t suppose you had a decent look at the ribbon?”
“Enough to know it was just a ribbon,” Sam said. “That, and the ink was dry.”
“No messages hidden in the spool?”
“After Tatiana told us about her conversation with Rolfe, we looked. There was nothing.”
“Unfortunate, that,” Lazlo said, giving a glum sigh. “Of course, it wouldn’t be unusual to find one in any location where a typewriter might have been even if said typewriter is no longer there.”
A logical assumption, Sam thought. Except that Rolfe and his Wolfmen were willing to kill to get them. “What about this furniture restorer that antique dealer mentioned? Any luck finding him?”
“Unfortunately,” Selma said, “his name is quite common. We’ve called everyone listed in the public directories, leaving messages where we could. We’re waiting to hear back.”
“Let us know when you find out anything.”
“Will do. Take care.”
Remi disconnected. “What do we do in the meantime?”
Sam pulled Tatiana’s phone from his pocket. “Get this thing to Viktor and find out what she’s been up to.”
Nika and Felix were waiting in the lobby of the hospital when Sam and Remi walked in. “Any word?” Sam asked.
“Lucky for Viktor,” Felix said, “the shot went clean through and missed the bones. We should be allowed to see him soon.”
“Good. Any chance you can get us in? We have a few questions.”
“What sort of questions?” Nika said. “We’d be glad to help.”
“I’m sure you can. But I’d rather wait, just to keep him in the loop.”
He and Remi took a seat as someone wheeled a patient past them down the hall. After about fifteen minutes, a nurse approached, asking for Felix by name. He stood.
Her first attempt to inform him of Viktor’s progress was in Polish. After a few exchanged words, determining that he didn’t speak Polish and she didn’t speak Russian, she said in stilted English, “He does well. He asks to see you. This way.”
They all started to follow. She shook her head. “Only two.”
Felix glanced back at them, his gaze landing on Sam. “You come.” Then he said something in Russian to Nika. She sat down, looking upset that she wasn’t included.
