The residents were all former cops, and shock and dismay were being replaced by anger at the death of one of their own. For some, Leonid had been a friend, for others, a benefactor, but he was a former Moscow police officer to them all.
Anna replied to Feo’s question in Russian, and I felt Dinara sag with each word, doubtless an account of the horror. I looked down and saw she was teetering on the edge of consciousness.
“Let’s go,” I said, and, supporting her, I ushered her through the crowd.
No one paid us much mind. They were all listening to Anna. I was desperate to know exactly what had happened, but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying, and Dinara’s welfare was my priority.
Soon we’d broken free of the crowd and I took Dinara through the building. She seemed delirious and was muttering in Russian. I half carried, half steered her to our accommodation block, and as we started down the corridor, I found my eyes drawn to the very end. The door to Leonid’s room. It would never open for him again.
I took Dinara into her room and laid her on the bed. I removed her coat and discovered her trousers were soaked through and freezing cold from her thighs to her ankles.
“Dinara,” I said, stroking her arm.
I touched her forehead to check for a fever. She felt a little warm, but not enough to worry me.
“Dinara,” I tried again. “I need you to focus.”
I was about to go and get help, when she suddenly turned to look at me.
“Jack, I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t...” She trailed off.
“It’s OK,” I said. “There’s nothing you could have done.”
She was haunted by the ugly memories, and her eyes reflected the horror they’d witnessed.
“He’s gone,” she said simply.
Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“He’s gone.”
Chapter 79
The dining hall was full. More than eighty residents sat at the long tables, drinking and talking in somber tones. I couldn’t understand a word, but I didn’t need to. It was a wake, and like all such occasions it was rich in reflection, memory and sorrow. I sat alone near the windows, looking outside to see the clouds were finally shedding their loads. Large flakes floated down in the bright pools cast by the exterior lights, settling on the frozen ground like the souls of so many dead. Beyond the lights, there was nothing but black night, so impenetrable the rest of the world might have ceased to exist.
I nursed a small glass of vodka, which I’d been given for one of the many toasts that had been raised for Leonid Boykov, but I had no interest in drinking. My mood was already bleak, and alcohol would have tipped me into misery. A good man had lost his life investigating the murder of a fraud and a liar — an investigation I had brought Leonid into.
I was at the very end of one of the long dining tables, surrounded by empty chairs. A few of the ex-cops had gathered at the other end, and there were more spread across the neighboring tables. They didn’t pay me much mind as they sank their drinks and talked quietly. None of them knew the details of the investigation into Karl Parker so I doubted they blamed me as much I blamed myself.
Anna Bolshova was with Dinara, who had stayed in her room. She too blamed herself and kept saying she could have saved him. I hadn’t been able to get through to her, but perhaps Anna could.
Feo was nowhere to be seen. He and another resident had left the building shortly after I’d come into the dining hall.
I was snapped out of my miserable reflection by my ringing phone, and was relieved to see Justine’s name flash on screen.
“Jack,” she said, when I answered. “I got your message. I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“Veles, the man who killed...” I hesitated. What should I call my former friend? I opted for simplicity, even though it perpetuated a lie. “The man who killed Karl Parker. He murdered Leonid. Dinara witnessed the whole thing.”
“Oh no. I’m sorry, Jack. Is she OK?”
“Not really,” I replied.
“And you?”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but I knew it wasn’t good. “I’ll be OK,” I lied.
Feo entered the dining hall, and I could tell by his demeanor that he had news. He scanned the room, and when he spotted me, he strode over.
“I’ve got to go, Justine,” I said. “I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Please be careful, Jack,” she replied.
“I will,” I assured her before I hung up.
Feo’s face was devoid of the levity I’d grown accustomed to. He looked stern and fearsome, and his size made his dark mood even more palpable.
“I’ve been to the city,” he said, taking the seat opposite. “My old colleagues in the Moscow police have been told to find you.”
My shoulders slumped and I exhaled slowly. I knew what was coming. It was the smart move and I should have expected it.
“They say you are the main suspect in the murder of Leonid Boykov,” Feo continued. “The story is beginning to leak to the newspapers. By morning, every police officer in Russia will be looking for you. I tried to tell them...” He trailed off and held my gaze. “Even if they’d believed me, it wouldn’t have made a difference. One or two officers can’t overturn this. There’s something much bigger behind it.”
He paused, clearly building up to something he didn’t want to say.
“You’re going to be labeled a cop killer,” he said. “We don’t treat such people well in this country. If you stay in Russia, there’s a good chance you will die before you make it to trial.”
Chapter 80
I stared across the table. I was grieving for a man who’d worked for me, but I was also mourning the loss of a friendship that had turned out to be nothing more than an illusion. And now I was being framed for murder. My anger rose, making my skin flush with a crackling heat.
“You must go,” Feo said.
“You know I can’t do that,” I responded flatly. “Not until this killer has been caught.”
“I had a feeling you might say that,” Feo replied. “You seem an honorable man. A coward runs. He might live, but he lives as a coward, and he can never run from himself. The honorable man might die, but he passes in glory. Just like Leonid Boykov.” He glanced around. “Listen to me, talking wisdom like I know about life. I need a drink,” he said, getting to his feet.
As he went to a table with bottles and glasses, I saw Anna and Dinara enter. Everyone fell silent, and then a few of the assembled residents rose from their seats and offered Dinara their sympathy as she crossed the room. Her eyes glistened and I could see her fighting back tears. Anna gave her a steadying hand, and I stood as they approached.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
Dinara replied with a faint smile, but she looked punch-drunk. She took the seat Feo had vacated, and he returned with a drink and sat next to her. Anna pulled up the chair to my left.
Feo spoke to the two women in Russian, and their eyes widened and they both looked at me.
“I was there. I can tell people the truth,” Anna offered.
“You’ve been reported missing,” Feo said. “Be very careful.
Missing can become dead.”
“They wouldn’t. I’m a police officer,” Anna remarked.
Feo inclined his head and gave her a withering look. “You know the kind of people who are behind this. Police officer means nothing to them.”
“I’m sorry,” Dinara said. “If I’d been faster...”
“This wasn’t your fault,” I assured her. “You did everything you could. The fact you’re even here is a miracle.”
“That is thanks to Anna,” Dinara replied. “She saved my life.”
“What do you suggest we do then?” Anna asked. “Sit here and drink?”