Dead Meat

Shelaeva turned her own mouth into a tight, thin slit of disapproval.

I always thought him a bit of a troublemaker myself,' she said crisply. Well, then, here you are: he's got you started on another case, hasn't he? All you have to do is find out who sat behind him in this car, sometime between twelve and two this morning, and blew his brains out. But let's not forget our small friend in the boot, shall we?'

She moved round to the back of the car, brushing past me as she came. Her tone had been so harsh and unsympathetic that I wasn't at all surprised to discover that she was wearing the same scent as my ex-wife. Shelaeva elbowed the militia photographer out of the way and presented the contents of the car boot with an indifferent wave of her rubber-gloved hand.

By contrast with the man in the passenger seat, the occupant of the Volga's boot could not have looked more dead. Bound hand and foot, and doubled up like the occupant of some ancient burial pit, it was difficult to say much about him save that he had been shot several times through a length of sticking plaster that covered his mouth.

Grushko sucked his cigarette as if reminding himself that he still had a mouth, tipped his head to one side the better to see the dead man's face and then uttered what sounded like a grunt of affirmation. But it was Nikolai who offered the explanation.

Looks like Mafia morse code, sir,' he said.

That is what it looks like,' agreed Grushko. Maintain radio silence.'

Sasha detached himself from our group and went over to speak to one of the militiamen. Having no particular taste for cadavers myself I was half inclined to join him, but then I was supposed to be gathering in these same small nuggets of Grushko's esoteric knowledge, so stayed put.

Well,' said Shelaeva, I guess it's details like that which made the State Prosecutor think this might be your case, Yevgeni Ivanovich.'

Grushko gave her a quizzical glance, no doubt wondering, as I was, if she had meant to be sarcastic or merely pedantic. I decided it was the latter.

She took up the position of an imaginary gunman, her arms extended in front of her as if she had been addressing a golf ball. It wasn't a bad stance. And she had the build to be a hard-hitter.

Your gunman stood here when he fired his shots,' she said. I guess only his mother could have missed him.'

She dropped down on to her haunches and pointed out several cartridges that were lying on the ground and which were indicated by small paper flags.

He used an automatic, I'd say. Something heavy: 10 millimetre, or .45 calibre. And with a high-magazine capacity too, judging from the amount of brass he left behind him. It looks as if he was enjoying himself when he pulled the trigger.'

Grushko bent forward to inspect them. At the same time he picked up a small flat stone that he used to stub out his cigarette before carefully putting it away in his pocket so as not to litter the scene of the crime. Then he placed the stone back where he had found it.

That's quite a lot of noise,' he said and looked speculatively about him as if searching for a sign that someone might have heard the shots above the sound of the sea lapping on the shingle beach and the wind coursing through the fir trees.

Maybe,' she said. But I don't think he was in much of a hurry. He was smoking when he pulled the trigger. There was a cigarette end among all those empty cartridges.'

Shelaeva led us a short distance from the car, to where a trestle-table had been erected. The various pieces of evidence that were collected on it looked like a secondhand stall on the Arbat. She selected something in a plastic bag.

And it looks like he prefers American,' she said.

Don't we all,' murmured Nikolai, regarding his own choice of smoke with distaste.

We found this on the back seat.'

Shelaeva handed Grushko the plastic bag containing the empty packet of Winston. He was about to return it to the table when Nikolai checked him.

Let's see that,' he said, taking the evidence bag from Grushko. It's been opened upside down.'

He's a careless bastard,' said Grushko. What does that prove?'

Well, it could mean that he's an ex-soldier.'

And how do you work that out?'

It's an old army trick I learned in Afghanistan,' he said, and glanced uncomfortably at Colonel Shelaeva.

So, what's the trick?' Grushko sighed impatiently.

If you open the cigarette packet the wrong way up, your dirty fingers don't touch the filters you know, the end you put in your mouth.'

You know, for the last twenty years, I've been wondering what those things were,' said Grushko.

I never knew soldiers were so fastidious,' said Shelaeva with raised eyebrows.

You do tend to be when there's no lavatory paper about,' said Nikolai, colouring.

Ah, I see.' Grushko chuckled quietly. Well, no need to be so bashful, Nikolai. We all know what that's like.'

This was undoubtedly true. For several weeks now there had been a deficit of lavatory paper in all the state shops. A day or so before leaving Moscow I had seen someone on the Rozhdestvenska Street market offering toilet rolls at fifty roubles each. Fifty roubles. That was my mother's weekly pension.

Grushko picked up a passport from the table. He turned the pages with the lugubrious air of an immigration official.

Belongs to the man in the boot,' said Shelaeva.

Grushko nodded absently and then turned his attention to where one of her men was photographing an area of ground not far behind the Volga.

What's happening over there?'

Some tyre tracks,' she said. There's not much tread on them, as you might expect, so don't even hope that we can make some kind of identification. And a couple of sets of footprints going between the two cars. My guess is that whoever shot Milyukin was already sitting in the back seat of the Volga when it arrived. He shot Milyukin and then he and the driver got out, shot the second man, and then walked back to the other car.'

Grushko wandered over to look at the car tracks.

Took their time leaving as well,' he said. Nothing panicky about these tyre tracks. These boys knew what they were about.'

Sasha had the rest of what was known from the local militia.

A local angler found the bodies at around seven o'clock this morning'

Grushko grimaced. I don't know that I would want to fish in these waters,' he said.

A keen angler myself, I said that I had been thinking that it looked like a pretty good spot. Grushko shook his head vigorously and pointed south at the horizon.

You can't see it from here, but on the other side of the bay, that's Sosnovy Bor.'

The nuclear reactor?'

He nodded. You wouldn't catch me fishing in these waters,' he said ominously. No telling what's been dumped here over the years.' He looked at Sasha, who continued with his information.

According to the local boys, the area is very popular with hunters,' he said. If anyone did hear those shots, I doubt they'd have thought it at all unusual.'

Yes,' agreed Grushko. There's elk round here, isn't there?

Sasha shook his head and shrugged.

They've checked with the GAI, and apparently the car is registered to ' Sasha consulted his notebook and turned the page to Vaja Ordzhonikidze.'

Ordzhonikidze?' said Nikolai. That name hits a thumb. Isn't he one of the Georgian team leaders?'

Grushko glanced at the passport he was still holding.

Not any more he isn't.' Catching my eye, Grushko added: A year or so ago, we tried to sew a number on his jacket for racketeering. Only he had sharp scissors. And a lawyer by the name of Luzhin. That's a name you'll get to know. He only works for Mafia clients.'

What do you think, sir?' asked Nikolai. The Georgian, giving Milyukin a story?'

Well, that's what it looks like,' Grushko admitted. Sasha, have the relatives been informed yet?'