Nikolai and Andrei were hanging around, waiting to speak to Grushko. He glanced up at the big man.
Any luck with Mogilnikov?'
He's picked one of the faces.' He handed Grushko two photographs. Stepan Starovyd. The Wrestler. And a maybe on the other one. Kazimir Cherep, the Little Cossack.'
Better find out where they're hanging out.'
Sasha's gone to have a word with his pincher, sir,' said Nikolai. Reckons he might get a tip.'
Andrei?'
Dr Sobchak. I've found the dacha where she's staying. It's near Lomonosov. The address is here, sir.' He handed Grushko a sheet of paper.
Nikolai,' said Grushko, what do you say to a little drive in the country?'
I'd say you've picked a nice day for it.' He collected his jacket off the back of his chair.
Grushko signed the papers I had presented for Voznosensky and wished me luck. He started down the corridor but stopped before he had gone five paces.
Anyone know where we can get some petrol?'
Lomonosov is a small town about forty kilometres west of Petersburg. Like nearby Petrodvorets it is the location of yet another imperial summer palace. It took Grushko and Nikolai a while to find the place they were looking for, even though Nikolai and Sasha had built themselves a smaller dacha only a few kilometres away. Residents paid a small tax on the land where the dacha was situated but otherwise were free to build on a plot as they wished. There were no addresses as such, just plot numbers.
As with most Russian dachi, this one was little more than a wooden cabin on a large allotment of similarly gimcrack-looking constructions. Built on two storeys, the dacha was painted blue with a high, corrugated-iron roof and surrounded with a small picket fence. On the dirt track outside the gate was parked an old white Zhiguli. As they knocked on the door, Nikolai sniffed the air with distaste.
That septic tank wants emptying,' he said.
It's just the heat,' said Grushko, and then the door opened.
She was a lean, hard woman of around forty with pale blue eyes and the kind of face that was no stranger to drink.
Dr Helen Sobchak?'
Yes?'
Grushko showed her his ID.
I wonder if we might ask you a few questions?'
What about?'
Mikhail Milyukin. It won't take very long.'
She shrugged and stood to one side.
The room was barely furnished, with a wooden floor and a big cast-iron stove. Books covered the walls and a cigarette was burning in the ashtray next to a bottle of vodka. On the floor was an open briefcase.
I'm not sure I can tell you anything,' she said, closing the door behind them.
You'd be surprised how often people say that,' said Grushko. And then they manage to help us after all.'
Dr Sobchak picked up the cigarette and puffed it back into life.
This is very pleasant. Are you on holiday?'
A working holiday. I'm catching up with some paperwork.'
Grushko eyed the bottle and then the briefcase. There was something about her voice.
So I see,' he said. Well, you've certainly picked a fine week for it.' He loosened his shirt collar. The city is like a furnace. I couldn't trouble you for a glass of water, could I? It's a long drive out here.
Yes,' she said reluctantly, or there's lemonade if you'd prefer.' She raised an eyebrow at Nikolai.
Thank you very much,' he said.
Dr Sobchak stepped into the tiny kitchen to fetch the lemonade. Grushko picked a book from the shelf and started idly to flick through it.
Are you any relation?' he called to her. To the mayor?'
No,' she said, returning with two glasses and watched as the two men drained the glasses thirstily.
You mentioned Mikhail Milyukin,' she said, prompting them impatiently.
Yes, I did. We're investigating his murder. Your name was in his address book.'
He handed his empty glass to her and returned to his perusal of her book.
Yes, well, it would be,' she said. I once provided him with a few facts and figures for an article he was writing.'
When was this?'
She shrugged vaguely.
A couple of years ago.'
These would have been ' he brandished the book he was holding radio-biological facts and figures, am I right?'
That's right, yes.
You understand, we have to check out everyone who knew Milyukin,' he said. But this article he was writing: have you any idea what it was about?'
It was something to do with the Chernobyl accident, I believe.'
It may just be a coincidence, but there was another name in Milyukin's address book who is also associated with the nuclear industry: Anatoly Boldyrev. Have you ever heard of him, Dr Sobchak?'
No, I can't say I have.'
He was murdered too,' Grushko said bluntly.
The doctor's blue eyes widened a little. She took a deep breath.
Good gracious me,' she said. Well, Colonel, I don't know that you could exactly describe me as someone who is involved in the nuclear industry. Strictly speaking I'm a biologist. At the First Medical. My work is concerned with the use of radioactive tracers to study metabolic processes.'
When was the last time you spoke to Mikhail Milyukin, Doctor?'
It was a couple of years ago, as I think I said earlier.'
So you did, so you did.' He replaced the book on the shelf. Then you wouldn't know if he had been planning to write another piece, or make another film about the nuclear industry? You see we found some notes he had made about the beta emitters that might be present in the atmosphere around St Petersburg: plutonium, polonium, americium that kind of thing?
No,' she said, beginning to sound rather irritated. I keep telling you, I knew nothing about what he was up to.'
Grushko walked over to the window and peered out at the patchwork quilt of different coloured dachi. He took a deep breath and then nodded. This really is very pleasant. Yours?
No, it belongs to a friend of mine.' After a pause she added: Well, if that's all, I'm expecting some friends any moment now, as a matter of fact'
Yes, that's all.'
They walked back up the track to where they had left the car.
Well, that's that,' said Nikolai.
Not quite.'
Grushko drove a short way along the track and then turned off to park behind a line of trees. They could just see the dacha and Dr Sobchak's car parked out front. Grushko wound down the window, opened the glove box and started to sort through his cassettes.
Nikolai regarded him with puzzlement. It seemed an odd time to stop and listen to music.
Keep an eye on the dacha will you?' said Grushko, throwing cassettes over his shoulder and on to the back seat.
You reckon she was lying, sir?'
Those beta emitters you heard me describing? They're alpha emitters.'
Nikolai looked impressed. Where did you learn that?'
From that book I was looking at when we were in there. No, Dr Helen Sobchak was very keen for us to leave, otherwise she would have corrected me, don't you think?'
He found the tape he was searching for and pushed it into the car's cassette-player.
Still, this should tell us for sure.'
It was the KGB recording of Mikhail Milyukin's telephone conversations. Grushko had played it many times and knew the tape virtually by heart. He listened for only a second and then pressed the fast-forward button on the machine until he found the excerpt that he was interested in now:
I've got a little job for you, if you're interested.'
What sort of material are we talking about?'
Dr Sobchak's voice was unmistakable. Grushko smiled with some satisfaction.
I knew I'd heard that voice before,' he said, and, winding the tape back a little, he played this small section of dialogue again.
Mikhail Milyukin spoke to Dr Sobchak three days before he was murdered,' he said, reminding himself.