Dead Meat

So how are things at home?' I asked. How's my daughter?'

She's fine. Sends her love.'

How's Moscow?'

The prices are just ridiculous. Everything is so expensive.'

Yes, it is,' I said.

How's Leningrad?' she asked.

St Petersburg. You get sent to the zone for calling the place the wrong name. Things are all right. I'm on a case already.'

She grunted. She never was much interested in my work as an investigator. She always wanted me to go into business for myself, as a lawyer. To make real money.

How's Porfiry?' she asked.

He's much the same. Thinner.'

Everyone's thinner.'

Are you feeding Misha?'

Misha was my dog.

He gets as much porridge as he can eat.'

Well, I guess his breath won't smell so bad.'

When you do come back for your car '

Yes?'

Could you bring some cheese perhaps?'

Cheese?'

I've heard that there's plenty of cheese in Leningrad. I mean St Petersburg. There's none in the whole of Moscow. Naturally I'll pay you for it.'

I'll see what I can do. Anything else?'

Not that I can think of.'

All right. I'll ring you before I come.' I laughed unpleasantly. Nice doing business with you.'

A little later on I went round the corner to find Grushko.

He was in his office. There was a tape-recorder on his desk on which he had been listening to the tapes the KGB had made of Mikhail Milyukin's telephone conversations. He seemed troubled by something and I was just about to ask him what it was when Sasha came into the office, his face eager with what he had to tell.

I've had a call from the drugs squad,' he explained. There's a friend of mine who works there who told me that on the night of Milyukin's murder they had some information that a suspect they were after was driving around in a green Mercedes. Well, they checked with the GAI and found that there are only three such cars in the whole of Peter. Anyway, in the process of eliminating these two other Mercs, they saw one of them driving down Nevsky at about eleven o'clock that night. It's registered to Dzhumber Gankrelidze.'

That would put the Georgians a long way from where they claimed they were,' said Grushko. In the restaurant at the Pribaltskaya Hotel.' He lit a cigarette and leaned forward in his chair.

After a moment or two I nodded at the tape machine.

Anything there for us?

Listen to this a minute, will you? This was recorded a week before the murder.'

He switched the tape on.

Mikhail Milyukin,' said the first voice, which was easily recognisable from Milyukin's many television reports.

This is Tolya.'

Ah yes, Tolya. I was hoping you'd call.'

You got my letter?'

Yes, I did. And I'm very interested in what you wrote. But is it really true?'

Every word. And I can prove it.'

Then I think it could make quite a story.'

You know it would.'

Look, it's best we don't talk about this on the phone. Where can we meet?'

How about the Peter and Paul Fortress? Inside the cathedral at, say, three o'clock?'

All right then. I'll be there.'

Grushko hit the stop button and looked expectantly at Sasha and myself.

This Tolya sounds like he could be a Ukrainian, I said. 'Those slurred consonants.

That's what I thought, said Grushko. He glanced at his notebook and then fast-forwarded the tape to a position on the machine's counter he had previously noted. 'Now listen to this. The call was made on the morning of the same day that Milyukin reported his flat had been burgled.

Hello.' It was a woman's voice, and an educated one. The accent sounded local.

Hi. It's Mikhail Milyukin.'

It's been a long time, how are you?'

Good, thanks.'

What are you working on this time?'

Well, I've got a little job for you, if you're interested?'

Anything to help the press, you know that.'

Good.'

What sort of material are we talking about?'

I'd rather not say on the telephone. Can I drop it round to you? How does later on this morning sound?'

Fine.'

See you later then.'

Now what,' asked Grushko, was all that about?'

He moved the tape on a second time.

And then there's this,' he said. Our Ukrainian friend calling back on the day that Milyukin was murdered.'

Mikhail Milyukin, hello.'

It's me, Tolya.'

Tolya, where have you been? I was worried something might have happened to you.'

Yeah well, something did happen. I got drunk last night.'

What again? You shouldn't drink so much. It's not good for you.'

What else is there to do? Besides it takes my mind off the other business.'

You don't sound too good. It must be some kind of hangover you've got there.'

Yes. It is. Look, I was wondering if we could meet again? There's something important that I haven't told you about yet.'

Sure. Where?'

The Peter and Paul again. You know the restaurant there?'

The Poltava? Yes, I know it.'

I've booked a table for 8.30, in the name of Beria.'

Beria?' Milyukin chuckled. Couldn't you have chosen a different name?'

There was a moment's silence.

Why, what's wrong with it?'

Nothing. Forget it. Are you sure you're all right, Tolya?'

It's just a hangover. Really, See you there. OK?'

OK.'

Well?' said Grushko.

Tolya he sounded nervous that time,' said Sasha.

Very,' agreed Grushko.

Now we know who Milyukin was waiting for,' I said.

Imagine not knowing who Beria was,' said Grushko. Was that just ignorance? A false name Tolya just plucked out of the air? Or was it something else? A sign that Milyukin should be careful maybe?'

A sign which he failed to spot,' I said.

I wonder,' said Grushko. Could this be our friend from the morgue this afternoon? It sounds as if Tolya might have been the owner of that liver we all enjoyed so much.'

If that's so,' I said, then whoever tortured him might have wanted him to bring Milyukin to them. Maybe they had a gun pointed at his head when he made that last telephone call. So it could be that he's not so much ill as worried. Worried that they're going to blow his brains out when he's finished making the call. And I suspect that's exactly what happened.' I paused, waiting to see if Grushko agreed.

Go on,' he said.

They let Milyukin sit in the restaurant and then pick him up as he's leaving. It's nice and quiet in the fortress at night, so there's no fuss. Persuading him to get into the car shouldn't be too much of a problem. By that time they'd already grabbed Vaja Ordzhonikidze, so it was probably his car they were driving. Then they drive them both to the forest and shoot them.'

Grushko nodded. Yes,' he said, I think that's it. Sasha, get Andrei to ring round all the local bus and freight companies. Tell him to find out if there's one of them which employs a Ukrainian driver called Tolya who might not have turned up for work in the last week or two.'

He noted the expression of doubt on Sasha's face and shook his head.

I know that's a pretty tall order, absenteeism being what it is these days, but we have to find out who this character was and what he was up to. Once we've discovered that we'll know why Milyukin was murdered. Ordzhonikidze too, I expect.'

For another ten minutes or so, we discussed a few speculative theories as to what Tolya might have wanted to tell Milyukin. Nothing seemed particularly likely. At the same time I was impressed with the democratic way Grushko was handling this inquiry. There is an old Russian saying, If I am a boss then you are a fool; and if you are a boss then I am a fool.' It was not a sentiment that Grushko would have had much time for.