And now the weary Elena sat behind her desk looking up at Iosef standing in her doorway like Alain Delon, the French actor with the deadly smile. Sasha rose, having decided there was nothing more to say, only work to do. His head felt no better.
“I’ll start making the calls to the stations,” he said.
“Be tactful,” Elena said. “We are asking for a second disruption.”
“I will be tactful,” said Sasha. “I will also evoke the specter of the displeasure of the Yak should they balk. Who knows? Perhaps we can turn a profit, sell the photographs back cheaply to each policeman when we no longer need them, split the profit three ways, and have lunch at the Metropole.”
“I don’t think so,” said Elena.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Sasha said, moving past Iosef, who patted Sasha on the shoulder.
Elena wanted to tell Sasha Tkach to call his mother, but it was really not her place to do so. She watched him return to his cubbyhole.
Elena and Iosef could hear when Sasha began his calls. Iosef sat down in the chair across the desk from Elena and said quietly, “If you do not marry me, I will go as mad as the father Karamazov.”
“I do not plan to stop being a deputy inspector,” Elena said.
“Ah,” said Iosef, leaning over. “A thin, white band of glowing hope. A condition. The door is open. I say, ‘Fine, marry me and keep working.’”
“I don’t know,” she said, brushing back her hair and looking at the desk for an answer.
“That’s better than no.”
“It’s not yes.”
They could hear Sasha in the adjoining cubicle evoking the respected name of Director Yakovlev with some officer in one of the districts. Sasha sounded decidedly weary and impatient, and he had not yet really begun.
“Come to my apartment for dinner tonight.” Iosef said. “I can’t afford to take you out more than once every few weeks on my salary.”
“We could share the bill,” Elena said, “and eat cheaply. I know some places.”
“You can’t afford it on your salary,” said Iosef with a grin.
“You come to my aunt’s apartment for dinner tomorrow tonight,” she said. “I have to work tonight.”
“Anna Timofeyeva’s apartment. I’ve known her since I was a small boy,” Iosef said with a sigh. “I remember an enormous almost bare office. Behind the desk sat a massive, stern woman who greeted me as if I were an adult being examined carefully for evidence of a crime. She frightened me.”
“And now?”
“I am not so easily frightened. What time?”
“Eight,” said Elena. “I warn you. Neither my aunt nor I are good cooks. I’m a bit better, but I make no promises … about anything.”
Iosef nodded in understanding.
“One more thing,” Elena said. “Sasha’s mother lives in our building. She tends to drop in without invitation at rather regular intervals.”
“Lydia Tkach,” Iosef said, topping his last sigh with a deeper one, the exaggerated sigh of an actor who wants you to know he is exaggerating. “Sounds as if it will be a night to remember.”
TEN
Leonid Sharvotz felt the blow to his head and another almost immediately to his kidney. He turned and slumped in confusion and pain against the wall of Georgi Radzo’s small room. Leonid’s face had hit the wall.
Leonid was sure his nose was bleeding. This was confirmed when he looked up from where he was kneeling to see the streak of blood down the dirty white wall.
He curled up, expecting more blows. A powerful hand grabbed Leonid’s shoulder and pulled him up. The hand turned him around, and a very light-headed Leonid Sharvotz looked into the face of Georgi Radzo. Georgi’s was an angry, determined, slightly stupid face with a taped broken nose.
The only positive thing about what was happening was that the smell and taste of blood blocked the almost putrid odor of sweat, unemptied trash, and bedding that hadn’t been changed in months.
“Shto ehdtah znahchyeet? Yah nyee pahnyeemahyoo. What does this mean? I don’t understand,” Leonid moaned, trying to stop the bleeding with the back of his hand.
“Lean your head back. I’ll hold it. Pinch your nose here and breathe through your mouth,” said Georgi. “Your nose isn’t broken. You want to see a really broken nose, I’ll take my tape off and show you one.”
Georgi’s voice was strange, as if he were far away on a bad telephone connection. Part of the reason was the padding in both of Georgi’s nostrils, an attempt, coupled with the tape, to give the big man’s nose some semblance of shape when it healed. Another part of the reason was that Leonid’s ears were now being covered by Georgi, who was massaging Leonid’s neck gently with his thumbs.
“Pinch the nose,” Georgi reminded him.
Leonid pinched his nose and felt blood on his fingers.
“It’s stopping,” said Georgi. “It was nothing.”
Leonid lifted his head. The bleeding had stopped. He tasted the blood that had dripped into his mouth and felt nauseous.
“Why?” Leonid repeated. “Why did you hit me?”
Georgi had turned Leonid so they were facing each other again.
“I am not as smart as you or Yevgeny,” the big man said, “but I am not a fool. If anyone is a fool, it is you.”
“What …?”
“Yevgeny didn’t have to kill Igor,” Georgi said. “There was no reason. Igor wouldn’t have betrayed us. He was weak, but he wouldn’t have done it because he’s afraid of me and Yevgeny. I am right, Leonid Sharvotz.”
“Why would he murder Igor?” asked Leonid, wanting to sit down, needing to sit.
He staggered to a straight-backed wooden chair, feeling the pain in his kidney with each step. Georgi didn’t try to stop him but went on talking.
“He plans to kill me. He plans to kill you. He may even plan to kill Igor’s family. He has the letter. He will destroy it and be the only one who knows where the wolf is hidden. Or maybe he’ll use us to help him get it and then murder us.”
“No,” said Leonid, tilting his head back over the top of the chair to keep the blood from coming again. “I’ve known Yevgeny since we were children.”
“Yevgeny wants it for himself. Yevgeny likes to kill. Yevgeny may be a bit crazy, and he is smarter than you and me.”
“I don’t believe it,” Leonid said, pinching his nose again. “I’ve known Yevgeny since we were children.”
“You said that,” said Georgi, who had not moved. “So think back on the violent things he did in the past.”
Leonid could remember only one thing specifically, but he had the definite feeling that if he spent more time thinking about it, he would find that Georgi was right. Leonid was suddenly both in pain and afraid.
“Once he pushed a girl down the stairs,” Leonid said. “In school. The girl was about nine. Yevgeny had called her a name, made fun of her freckles. She had answered his insult in front of a gathering of about fifteen students in the hall by saying everyone knew he had a Jew nose. She turned. He followed her and pushed her down the stairs. I remember he was smiling when she fell. The girl broke her leg and a finger. Yevgeny said she had fallen and I said she had fallen. I don’t remember her name.”
“You remember Yevgeny’s smile,” said Georgi.
With his head still back, Leonid confirmed this with a nod.
“I propose we kill Yevgeny before he kills us,” said Georgi.
Leonid sat up suddenly, still pinching his nose. He looked at Georgi and knew that the big man meant it.
“I’ll do it,” said Georgi. “You don’t have to see or hear or be there.”
“No,” said Leonid.
“You know I’m right,” said Georgi.
And Leonid did.
“But how do I know you won’t kill me, too?” asked Leonid.
“Because you are alive,” said Georgi with what might have been a smile. “I could have thrown you out the window. No one knows you are visiting me. You could have come out of any window.”