The Robber Princess

Chapter 10. Goons, Sexpots, and Smarm

Chapter 10

The moment Folkering's flight landed at Pulkovo airport, a uniformed agent of the Russian FSB boarded the plane. The agent met Folkering, whisked him through passport control and customs, drove him to the Bolshoi Dom (the Big House) in the city center, and took him to the station chief, Colonel Bogdan Kovshutin. It was already past the end of the workday and Folkering was flattered that Kovshutin was willing to meet him right away. He had been a little apprehensive that his czarist background might prejudice the FSB against him, but to his relief, Kovshutin greeted him warmly. Folkering's fluent Russian seemed to put Kovshutin at ease.

"I will tell you this, Frants Pavlovich," Kovshutin said, calling Folkering by his Russian name, "we've been watching Nikolaev for some time. We've had suspicions about him, but he's never been implicated in a crime in Russia so we had no grounds to arrest him. We still do not. However, as a personal favor to your Baron won Brikelshteyn, I'll do what little I can to help you apprehend the knyazhna Regen."

"Your help is appreciated," replied Folkering, "and on behalf of the Grand Marshal and my country"-mindful that naming former Russian nobility might inflame sensibilities needlessly, he had already practiced avoiding referring to his "Mother" or even "the Queen"-"I thank you. But what if I told you that we believe that Mr. Nikolaev was an accomplice in the theft of the Fabergé egg in Buenos Aires?" Kovshutin's eyebrows shot up; clearly that interested him.

Folkering continued. "The egg was on loan from the Fabergé Museum here in Sankt-Peterburg, was it not?" Kovshutin nodded. "I'm sure the Museum would be delighted to get it back, plus any other Russian national treasures that Nikolaev and his co-conspirators may have looted over the years."

"Yes, I would be very interested in that. So how can we help you?"

Seeing that Kovshutin was hooked, Folkering grinned slightly and allowed himself to let his guard down. "Nikolaev and Princess Regina were last seen escaping the house of Marcelo Mastrandrea together. Regina is a fugitive in her own country, so she probably will not return there. We think Regina will seek refuge under Nikolaev's protection. So, would you be willing to set up a monitoring operation?"

Kovshutin nodded again. "Of course. But you know we cannot arrest knyazhna Regen unless she commits a crime in Russia."

Folkering was ready for this problem. "We believe that Regina was an accomplice to the Fabergé theft also. I will show you our evidence at your convenience. What if I find the egg in Nikolaev's house? Would that give you cause to arrest them both?"

"Her, yes. And if she is only an accomplice in the Fabergé theft but not the actual perpetrator, I think the judge probably would allow her extradition."

Kovshutin leaned forward as if wanting to keep private what he would say next. "Nikolaev, on the other hand, is a problem. You know how powerful the oligarchs are in this country, nyet?" Folkering nodded. "Nikolaev is well connected politically, not only in St. Petersburg oblast but also at FSB headquarters in Moscow and even in the Kremlin. He has all the judges in his back pocket. We in the St. Petersburg station have been unable to make any charge against him stick. Maybe if we find stolen treasure there, then okay. But if I so much as enter the house than I am ... er, cooked." Kovshutin held an imaginary fork to his mouth and blew on the end of it.

"Then I will enter the house instead," replied Folkering, "and if I find the evidence you need, I will signal you."

So Kovshutin set up a stakeout of Dacha Rybikovo and a watch at the major airports. As it turned out, Nikolaev had gone through passport control at Sheremetyovo airport in Moscow the night before but had not been traced since. He was possibly already at his dacha. The stakeout reported that the lights in his house had been on continuously-even in the dead of night-and something in the house was jamming their listening gear. There was just no way to know whether the house was empty or occupied.