Tabula Rasa

Chapter 46

Matt paused, his hand frozen in the act of turning the key to open his mailbox, as a deep, gruff voice filled the lobby.

"You see this woman?"

The words were heavily accented in Russian, and the tone was far from friendly. Matt stretched out his senses, and received the impression of a large man, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He was standing in front of Mrs. Schneider's apartment, holding up a photograph.

Matt could easily guess who's picture was on it:

Calina.

Mrs Schneider peeked out from behind her heavy door and shook her head.

"You sure?" the man barked.

"Est tut mir leid," came the hesitant, confused reply.

Matt pocketed his keys and turned around. "She doesn't speak English."

The Russian man glanced at him over his shoulder. He took in the tinted glasses and the white cane and dismissed Matt without a second look. He just moved on to the next apartment and rapped on the door with his meaty fist.

Matt approached him from behind. The scent of gun oil and sweat filled his nose, along with a subtler, damp musty odor that reminded Matt of old, wet carpet. "Who are you looking for?" Matt asked.

The man looked at him again, the sneer on his face obvious even to Matt. "My sister," he spat out. "Her name Calina Balashova. She live here. Now she missing."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Matt replied. He fidgeted with the stick in his hands, trying to tamp down the impulse to beat the other man so severely that he'd forget all about Calina and the other Widows. Instead, he plastered a sympathetic smile on his face as he offered his help. "If you leave the photo with me, I'll make sure to pass it around to the other residents. We have a message board for these types of things."

Matt held out his hand. The man glared at him in response, and Matt could hear him grind his teeth in annoyance. But Matt held his ground. He wanted this intruder out of the building. The less he could discover about Calina and her activities while she lived here - and the people she socialised with - the better.

The man looked at the door in front of him, still closed after no one responded to his aggressive knocking. He tilted his head to look up the stairs to the several floors above, and Matt could almost see the calculation in his eyes: try more apartments, or give in for now?

He gave in. He shoved the photograph at Matt and stomped passed him.

"How should I contact you if I hear anything?" Matt called out.

The man slowed, but didn't turn around. "I'll be back," he replied, the words sounding like a threat. Then he headed out of the building.

"Not so fast, you Terminator-wannabe," Matt muttered under his breath. He turned and ran for the stairs, ignoring Mrs. Schneider's startled gasp. He folded his cane and shoved it into his jacket pocket while he shot up the steps. Within minutes he'd reached the rooftop access door. He slammed through it and raced to the edge of the building, scanning the air for traces of gun oil and mildew.

There.

Matt zeroed in on the scent trail. The Russian was still on the street, heading east. Matt backed up, then took a running jump to reach the next building over. He followed his prey from the rooftops, curious to find out where he was based.

And eager to find someway to help Calina.

He was getting sick of sitting on his hands while she was out there in danger.