“You don’t speak Russian,” Seichan reminded him.
“But I know sign language.”
Seichan pictured Yerik Raz. “I thought Russian signing was different from the American standard?”
“It is. I have no idea what that big monk was saying, but he was clearly spelling something out with his hand during that exchange. Thinking it might be important, I memorized it.” He demonstrated by signing with his fingers and wrist. “I’m pretty good at picking up gestures, but I can’t promise I got it all.”
Seichan turned to Yuri. “If we recorded it, do you know anyone who might be able to interpret it?”
“Da. Should be no problem. My boss Bogdan has many connections.”
She nodded. “Then let’s see if this leads anywhere.”
They quickly videoed Kowalski’s hand gestures as he repeated his demonstration. Yuri then stepped to the side with one of the team’s encrypted phones and dispatched the file to his contacts, someone familiar with Russian sign language.
As they waited for a response, there was a knock on the door.
Seichan withdrew her SIG Sauer and stepped over. She squinted through the door’s peephole. A woman, dressed in the hotel’s crimson-and-black livery, stood in the hall. She held aloft a tray covered by a domed silver cloche.
About time.
She holstered her pistol and opened the door. She blocked the view inside with her body, then took the tray and passed over a thick roll of rubles. She thanked the woman, then closed the door.
With the tray in hand, Seichan crossed the salon and lowered it to the table. She removed the cloche, exposing two full blood bags, along with a transfusion kit.
Yuri had arranged this special delivery.
Kowalski sighed appreciatively. “Room service is good here. But they could’ve brought fries, too.”
As Monk prepared to replace what Kowalski had lost, Yuri strode forward with the phone in hand. “I heard back,” he reported. “But I don’t know if this helps much. A couple signs wereabsurdnyy, my contact says. But others he got right.”
Kowalski grunted. “Like I said, I wasn’t sure I memorized everything perfectly.”
Seichan focused on Yuri. “What was your contact able to make out?”
“I’ll show you. But Russian sign language uses Cyrillic letters, not American.” Yuri passed over the phone. “My friend sent this.”
Seichan stared at the screen, which showed a line of Cyrillic letters with gaps at the beginning and the end.
Seichan frowned. “So, the first and last letters are wrong?”
“Absurdnyy, like I said. All that is clear are the four middle ones. Translated they spell out E L V M.”
Seichan showed the others the image.
“Looks like a game of Cyrillic hangman,” Kowalski mumbled.
Monk nodded. “One we’d better not lose, if we hope to ever see Dr. Stutt and Marco again.”
And possibly Tucker, too.
Seichan turned to Kowalski. “Show me those signs again.”
At her insistence, Kowalski ran through the sequence a few more times. As he did, she recognized a pattern.
“It looks like your signs for the first and last letters are thesame. Whatever error you made in remembering the first one, you repeated in the last.”
“What does that mean?” Kowalski asked.
