Dead Meat

Gidaspov was looking distinctly unhappy.

Well yes, of course. What else would you want to put inside them?'

What else indeed?' Grushko lit a cigarette and regarded the truck with quiet distaste.

Tell me,' he asked. Have you ever heard of black haulage?'

Gidaspov bridled.

Of course I have. I have had many years' experience of managing freight, Colonel. But I can't see that anyone would want to put any sort of illegal cargo inside one of these trucks. After three or four days in this sort of environment, any cargo would show traces of some contamination. Even after spraying with decontaminants.'

Do your drivers know that?'

I would have thought so, yes.' But Gidaspov sounded vague.

But you're not sure?'

Well, not absolutely sure. But common sense would seem to indicate that'

Either way it probably doesn't really matter,' said Grushko. Not to the Mafia, anyway. They're not particularly fastidious about things like contamination. Not when there are such large profits to be made.'

I think it's about time you told me exactly what's going on here, Colonel, don't you?'

Yes, you're right,' said Grushko. Experimentally he ran the radiometer over his own person. It showed a small reading that he hoped wasn't enough to worry about.

A Mafia gang has been using your trucks to transport supplies of frozen meat to cooperative restaurants here in St Petersburg,' he said. EC food-aid that was destined for the people of Kiev.'

Gidaspov's mouth slackened like a deflating tyre.

You can't be serious, Colonel,' he said.

Oh, but I am. What better way for them to avoid the attentions of customs officials and militiamen on the look out for illicit food supplies? After all, nobody feels much inclined to go near anything nuclear these days. Not since Chernobyl.'

But what you're suggesting, it's monstrous,' spluttered Gidaspov. And I can't see how I mean, I'm sure our drivers would have had nothing to do with such a thing.'

The Mafia have their ways of persuading people to do what they're told,' shrugged Grushko. All the same, I shall want to see your personnel files. There may be a weak link, despite your admirable security precautions.'

Gidaspov was still finding it hard to take in. He lit one of his American cigarettes nervously.

But the meat,' he repeated dumbly. It would be hopelessly contaminated.'

Yes, you're right,' agreed Grushko. But like I said, I doubt that would worry the Mafia. After all, contamination's not something you can actually see. Just the same I think it must have worried Tolya. Perhaps that's why he became a vegetarian. Anyway, he decided to take his story to Mikhail Milyukin. He even took along a sample of the meat.'

Grushko watched the colour drain from Gidaspov's well-fed face.

I'm not exactly sure what happened next,' Grushko admitted, but somehow the Mafia a gang of Ukrainians it would seem well, they discovered that Tolya had told someone. Perhaps Tolya was foolish enough to have confided his doubts to one of the other drivers. If so, then it cost him his life. The Ukrainians grabbed him, tortured him and found that the person Tolya had told was an investigative journalist. Ogonyok, Krokodil it would have made good copy wherever it appeared. But with the sort of money involved, the Mafia couldn't afford to let that happen. There were twenty tonnes of beef on that plane from Britain. At today's black-market prices that's worth about five million roubles as much as any narcotic. So they killed them both.'

But why transport the meat here?' said Gidaspov. Why not just sell it in Kiev?'

Have you been in a cooperative restaurant in St Petersburg?' said Grushko. The prices they charge are many times higher than those people could be expected to pay in Kiev. Because of the tourists. And however badly off for food the Ukraine thinks it is, it's still a lot better off than we are in Petersburg. After all, the Ukraine is, or at least used to be, Russia's bread-basket.

Gidaspov had steadied himself against the truck. He was looking distinctly green.

Exactly where are the trucks right now, Mr Gidaspov?'

You'd better come inside,' he said.

They went back to Gidaspov's office where he showed Grushko the convoy's position on a map.

They'll aim to be here, in Pskov, by this evening,' he said. And all being well, they should be back in St Petersburg some time tomorrow night.'

Good,' said Grushko. That gives us time to prepare a welcome for them. With any luck we'll catch them red-handed.'

He looked at Gidaspov and wondered whether or not he could trust him. The man seemed genuinely shocked by what Grushko had told him, but there was no way to be absolutely sure that, left at liberty, he would not try and warn someone. Grushko knew he had little alternative but to take Gidaspov into custody until the arrests had been made.

22

That night, an elk came running through the streets of St Petersburg. Someone told me that it was usually about this time of year that they started to migrate and that instinct led them to take the same route that their ancestors had taken before Peter the Great had even thought of founding his city. For a while I sat at a window in the Big House and watched the huge bewildered beast gallop up and down Liteiny Prospekt. It made a pleasant diversion from hours spent dealing with the Georgians.

I wish I had my rifle,' said Nikolai. I could put some real meat on the table.' He lifted an imaginary gun to his shoulder and pretended to take aim at the animal. And those antlers: they would look great on my living-room wall.'

For my own part I preferred to think of the elk alive; as something magnificent. There was precious little dignity to be found in any other variety of Russian life. It was true the beast seemed to have no idea where it was going any more than it knew why it was going there. But probably it would get there in the end and in that there might have been a message of hope for us all.

After we had charged the Georgians and locked them up for the night Grushko spent an hour discussing the forthcoming operation with the OMON squad commander and General Kornilov. When finally he emerged from this meeting he asked me about Gidaspov and his secretary, who were still waiting in an adjoining office.

I can't let them go,' he said, but I can't just lock them up downstairs with the rest of the scum. That's the way we did things in the old days. What do you think?'

How about taking them to a hotel?' I suggested. A nice room with a TV and a bathroom, but no telephone, and a militiaman outside the door.'

Grushko snapped his fingers.

I know just the place,' he said. The Smolensky on Rastrelli Square. It used to be the Party VIP hotel. Now it's mostly European television crews staying there, but the place is owned by the city, so we'll get a cheap rate.'

He picked up the phone and made the arrangements. Half an hour later, Gidaspov and the girl were on their way.

Well, that was easily solved,' said Grushko and looked at his watch. Now all I have to do is go home and tell the wife that I'm going to be late for this dinner she's giving for our future son-in-law and his family tomorrow night.' He shook his head wearily. Well, it's not as if I can ask the Mafia if they can reschedule their delivery for a more convenient night, is it? All the same, she's going to have my guts for breakfast. I don't suppose you've any bright ideas on that one, have you?'

I smiled and collected my briefcase from the floor beside Grushko's desk. I took out a bar of chocolate and handed it to him.

A present from Moscow,' I said.

You must be psychic,' he breathed. But I can't take your chocolate'

It's not mine,' I said. It's my wife's. I nicked it from her when I was at home.' I shrugged. The fat cow eats too much chocolate already. Her cupboards were full of it. The music teacher must have a connection somewhere.'

If you're sure,' said Grushko and put the chocolate in his own briefcase. Thanks. It'll make a useful peace-offering.'