Dead Meat

He stepped on to the escalator and started his descent, all the time keeping an ear out for the loudspeaker-voice that would announce the arrival of the next train. Then, at the bottom of the ascending escalator, he saw another man start back as if something had dissuaded him from going up, and Grushko knew that his quarry was lying low on the other moving stair. The Georgian must have heard him questioning the busker and climbed on the up escalator in the hope that he could get past Grushko coming down.

Grushko turned and started to climb against the downward motion of the wooden stairway. For a moment or two he succeeded only in keeping pace with it and had to climb harder in order to make his ascent. On reaching ground level again he kept low until he got to the barrier. He jumped silently over it and, seeing the busker once more, he put his finger to his lips and quietly took the guitar from him. Pressing himself into the wall, he started to tune one of the strings.

He heard the footsteps and then saw the gun. The next moment he swung the guitar by its neck and caught the Georgian full in the face. The man's gun clattered to the ground as he fell.

Grushko moved quickly forwards and kicked it away. Then he returned the still-ringing instrument to the busker.

Nice tone,' he said.

As the Georgian sat up and wiped the blood from his mouth, he found himself expertly handcuffed.

Come on you,' said Grushko. On your feet. You've got some more music to face.'

He frog-marched the Georgian back to the hotel front door, where a small crowd was gathering near Sasha.

Don't say you lost him.'

Sasha pointed at Grushko's car. Pyotr Mogilnikov was sitting in the back seat with his forearms covering his face.

Is he all right?' Grushko asked solicitously.

He's all right,' said Sasha. I had to hit him, that's all. He's just a bit winded.'

What about me?' mumbled the Georgian as he tried to staunch the copious flow of blood from his nose and mouth. I need a doctor.'

You need a lawyer more,' said Grushko and shoved him towards the militia sergeant as a black police van sped towards them with its blue light flashing.

Stick him in the raven, and bring him down to the Big House,' he said. I'd take him myself only I don't want to get any blood on my upholstery.'

Right you are, sir,' said the sergeant and, taking hold of the Georgian's blood-stained shirt collar, he shoved him towards the van as it pulled up beside them.

It was after two o'clock by the time they got back to the Big House. The Georgian, whose name was Ilya Chavchavadze, was not saying a thing, so they locked him up in the old police gaol underneath the Big House and turned their attention to Pyotr Mogilnikov. Sasha unlocked his handcuffs and sat him down on a chair in front of Grushko. You know,' he said, lighting the man a cigarette, another few seconds and that Georgian would have had you.' He tipped his own cigarette towards the lighter.

My lucky day, isn't it?'

I'd say so. I don't suppose you have any idea why he wanted to kill you?'

Mogilnikov pushed his chair back on to two legs and rocked it with insolent nonchalance.

Who knows what goes through that sort of sick mind?' he said.

How about if you were to hazard a guess?'

Your guess is as good as mine.'

Better, I shouldn't wonder,' said Grushko.

Mogilnikov smirked.

So why are you asking me?'

Oh, I just thought that almost being murdered might have helped you to see your priorities.'

Mogilnikov tugged the cigarette from his lips and stayed silent.

So tell me, why did you make a run for it?'

I thought you were with the other guy, of course. How was I to know you guys were the fairies?'

He let the chair down on all four legs, reached forward and flicked his cigarette ash at the tin lid on the desk. Grushko caught his wrist and whistled loudly.

Now that's a very nice watch,' he said, eh, Sasha?'

Looks expensive, sir.'

Grushko scrutinised the brand name on the watch face.

Rolex. Is it a real one?'

Nah, of course not,' said Mogilnikov. It's one of those fakes. From Hong Kong. How could I afford a real one?'

How indeed?' Grushko unbuckled the gold and stainless-steel strap. Do you mind if I have a closer look?'

Mogilnikov shrugged uncertainly and then drew his hand out of the bracelet. Grushko turned the watch over and inspected the underside of the case.

Amazing,' he said. I'll bet that only an expert could tell them apart.' He pursed his lips and nodded. You know, I've just thought of something. Maybe that's why the Georgian wanted to knife you: to get his hands on this watch. Those Georgians, they like flashy looking stuff like this.'

You don't say.'

What do you think, Sasha?' Grushko tossed him the watch.

Hey,' protested Mogilnikov, be careful.'

Sorry,' smiled Grushko. But after all, it is a fake.'

Fake or not, it still cost money.'

Nice, very nice,' said Sasha, nodding appreciatively. Looks too good to be home-made.'

So who are you?' frowned Mogilnikov. The militia's resident watchmaker?'

No, but he will give you a pledge,' said Grushko.

Oh? And what might that be?'

That it was you who fingered Vaja Ordzhonikidze.'

Vaja who? Look, what are you talking about?'

Sasha tossed Grushko the watch. Mogilnikov sighed and shook his head.

You phoned him up,' said Grushko. You offered to sell him this watch.' He dangled it in the air as if he had been teasing a cat with a piece of fish.

You've been sitting on someone's needle.'

You told Ordzhonikidze that you'd washed this off some foreign tourist's arm, didn't you?'

I never heard of the guy. And I didn't steal that watch.'

That's the real reason you were booked on the midnight plane from Georgia,' declared Grushko. You set Vaja up to get murdered.'

Mogilnikov continued to shake his scrawny head.

Just like it was you who helped to turn over Mikhail Milyukin's place,' added Sasha.

Mikhail who?'

Maybe you helped to shoot them both,' said Grushko. Either way you're looking at the maximum fifteen years in the zone, strict regime. Felling timber in Perm.'

Freezing winters,' said Sasha, blazing hot summers, miles away from anywhere. Even the guards don't want to go there, it's so remote. The camp there covers thirty-eight whole regions of the country. The place is vast and so empty that you might think the world had forgotten all about you.'

You don't scare me,' said Mogilnikov.

Good-looking fellow like you make some zek a nice boy-girl,' said Grushko with malicious pleasure. If the mosquitoes don't drive you mad, or TB doesn't kill you first.'

You bastards,' snarled Mogilnikov.

Of course, the chances are,' added Grushko, that you may never even get there not now that the Georgians have marked you down for the top tower. You could be in sit at Kresti and they might still tickle your ribs, son. Isn't that so, Sasha?'

Nothing easier. Those Georgians have got friends in every gaol in Peter. Price of killing a man when he's in sit is a couple of bags of scratch. Or maybe a loan of someone's boy-girl for an afternoon.'

Sweat started on Mogilnikov's pale forehead. He rubbed it away with his hand and then tore the cigarette from the corner of his trembling mouth. Ash fell unnoticed on to his trousers.

Who put you up to it?' Grushko's voice sounded harsh and impatient. It was early in the morning and he wanted to go home.

Nobody '