“You requested it?” Schneider said to Silvia. “It was obviously a stalling tactic. Take them back,” he said to the woman.
“No, leave them,” Silvia said. She nodded at the woman, who, after a moment’s hesitation, closed the door and left. “I’m interested in seeing where this goes. Carter obviously knows something we don’t.”
“He’s bluffing.”
“And if that’s true, we’ll know for sure in about a minute. Besides, the physical evidence in this case consists of a single pair of boots,” Silvia said, pulling the stilettos out. They were in their own plastic bag. “I didn’t see any harm in taking a look—considering that he was right about the video of the previous interviews having disappeared.”
“Is that right?” Schneider said.
“I checked. No record of them. What did you want to look at, Mr. Beck?”
“We’ll need to remove them from the bag,” Carter said.
“And contaminate a crucial piece of evidence in a federal murder inquiry?” Schneider said.
“If you’re concerned, why don’t you remove them from the bag yourself?” Silvia held out the gloves, which Schneider snapped on without removing his gaze from hers.
“What am I looking for?” he said impatiently, sliding them out of the plastic bag.
“Remove the heel tips,” Carter said, already doubting himself. The heels were way skinnier than he’d remembered. No room for a flash drive.
“The what?”
Silvia pointed. “The rubber ends on the heels.” She pulled a set of keys from her pocket and flicked out a mini pocketknife. “Here, use this.”
Carter focused on keeping his breath steady as Schneider dug into one of the heel tips and popped it off. Carter shut his eyes for a second. No hidden compartment—it was just a normal heel.
Schneider examined the heel tip. “This is regular old rubber. What were you expecting?”
“And now the other tip,” Carter said with all the calm he could muster. If that didn’t work, could he talk them into digging up the insole?
He nearly went cross-eyed as he watched Schneider flick it off. This time therewassomething there, rolled up inside the hollowed-out heel. Instinctively, Carter went to grab it, but Schneider held him off by pointing the tiny blade at him. Using the knife, Schneider edged it out.
“Looks like a rolled-up photo,” Silvia said.
Schneider smoothed it out. It showed a woman and two men. She was handing something to one of them. A still from a security camera, by the look of it. Carter noted that Schneider remained silent, his face unreadable.
Silvia drew the photo closer, using the end of her pen. “That woman looks like…”
“Tania Garrett,” Carter finished. “She was on several of my tours to Moscow, including the last one, when the station chief died. I recognize the street corner. It’s in Moscow, not far from Red Square.”
“The timestamp,” Silvia said. “It’s the day before the murder. And the men?”
“I don’t know,” Carter said tightly. Their faces were clear—if he’d ever met them, he’d have remembered. Another goddamn mystery piece in the puzzle.
“Tell me, Mr. Beck,” Schneider said, reclaiming his earlier bravado. “How does this blow the whole thing open?”
“Carter?” Silvia prompted.
“Looks to me like she’s paying them off,” Carter said, knowing it sounded weak.
“Or buying a souvenir,” Schneider said.
Silvia’s lips were pursed. “You know something more about this, Carter. You’re not surprised to see her in this photo, are you? And Ms. Vasnetsova evidently thought there was some significance to this, given that she concealed it so carefully.”
“And asked to have it back,” Carter added, though that was about the limit of his deductive ability. What had he expected? A photo of Tania Garrett pulling the trigger?
“So what’s Tania Garrett’s significance in all of this?” Silvia said.
