Rostnikov put his finger to his lips to quiet the business Oleg and then motioned to the retarded Oleg, who ambled toward him, smiling. Rostnikov sat him down and poured him a cup of tea. “Gonsk,” he said. “Go in the kitchen. Find them something to eat. Cookies, something. Then take them home.”
“You don’t understand, Inspector. These are the only Olegs in Arkush. There are no others.”
“Then we must look in Minsk,” said Rostnikov.
“Minsk? Why Minsk?” asked Gonsk.
“At the moment it is as likely a place as any,” said Rostnikov.
“Minsk?”
“It is a joke,” said Rostnikov.
“I don’t understand.”
“Please, get the cookies.”
Gonsk, a befuddled look on his face, headed toward the kitchen.
“When you come back,” Rostnikov said, “I want you to find Inspector Karpo.”
Gonsk nodded, and Rostnikov picked up the reports Karpo had prepared for him on five men of Arkush, including the missing Peotor Merhum. He had read them once and would now read them again to be reasonably certain of the conclusion he was beginning to draw.
“You may go,” Rostnikov said, looking up at the business Oleg, who seemed to be waiting.
“You told Officer Gonsk to get some cookies,” he said softly. “I thought …”
Rostnikov pointed to an open chair next to the retarded Oleg.
Sasha and Elena entered the apartment of Peter Chesney just after one in the afternoon. They had found that he was, indeed, British and they had located the office from which he worked. The problem was that Chesney was not there, nor was he expected back.
They had then gone to the apartment and knocked at the door. Peter Chesney opened it.
“We would like to ask you a few questions,” said Elena. “We are the police.”
Chesney was dressed in a perfectly pressed dark suit, a neatly ironed white shirt, and military gloss-black shoes. His tie was striped with a pearl tie pin property centered. Unfortunately Chesney’s silver hair was a mess and his face pale. “What happened to you?” he asked, looking at Sasha and stepping back so they could enter.
“I did not pay sufficient attention to my business,” said Sasha. “I do not intend to make the same mistake again. We have some questions for you.”
“Look, someone has been through my apartment,” Chesney said, ignoring the policeman and waving his hand at the overturned mess on the floor. “I am a citizen of the United Kingdom. This is intolerable. Can either of you speak a civilized language? I find it difficult to express my anger in Russian. Actually I find it difficult to express anything in Russian.”
Elena and Sasha looked around the room. It bore a marked resemblance to the mess they had seen in the apartment of Grisha Zalinsky.
“French,” said Sasha.
“German and English,” said Elena.
“Good,” said Chesney in English. He sat down on the sofa.
“I speak no English,” said Sasha. “It is best if we speak Russian. We will be tolerant.”
“Since when?” Chesney said in English, and then, reluctantly, in Russian he said, “All right. Someone broke into my apartment. What will you do about it? At least I can say that you came promptly.”
“We did not come in answer to your complaint,” said Elena. “We are looking for Amira Durahaman.”
It was possible for Chesney to get a bit more pale, but just a bit. He achieved the state instantly. “I’m sorry. I don’t-”
“You were seen with her at the Nikolai,” said Elena.
“Many times,” said Sasha, opening his book and looking at a page of notes he could not see clearly with his one good eye. Since he was only pretending to read, it made no difference. “We have six witnesses who have given sworn testimony that you and the girl are lovers,” he lied.
“And,” Elena added, “two of your neighbors have positively identified her as having been here overnight on three occasions at least.”
“Well, perhaps I …So what if she did?” Chesney was recovering a bit. He got up from the sofa feigning indignation.
“Look here,” he sputtered. “I’m the one whose apartment has been robbed.”
“What is missing?” asked Sasha.
“Missing? Missing? I don’t know yet, but-”
“The girl is missing,” said Elena. “One man is dead. Another man is looking for her, perhaps to kill her.”
“You are wrong,” said the Englishman, and then repeated his words in both English and French. “We have broken no Russian laws.”
“How old are you?” asked Elena.
“That is of no-”
“You are forty-nine,” answered Sasha. “You are married and have a wife and three children.”
“And two grandchildren,” added Elena.
“All of your children are older than Amira Durahaman,” continued Sasha. “She is seventeen.”
“All of this is no concern of yours,” said Chesney. “I think you should leave now.”
“I am in a remarkably good mood,” said Sasha, taking a step toward the man and feeling a sharp stab across his chest. “But if anything happens to that girl, I will be in a very bad mood.”
“You can’t frighten me. I’m British.”
“God,” said Elena with a sigh. “Someone is trying to kill her, Chesney, if she is not already dead. Her father is looking for her. If he finds you before he finds her, you may look worse, far worse, than my partner.”
Sasha’s smile looked more like a distorted grimace. “This is useless,” he said. “I’m afraid you will have to come with us. You can call your embassy from Petrovka Street. You are involved in the murder of a Soviet citizen and the possible kidnapping of the daughter of an important foreign national. It can be very embarrassing for your country. They may well want to wash their hands of you. It happens frequently.”
“You are lying,” Chesney said.
“Get your coat,” answered Elena.
Chesney looked from Sasha’s face to Elena’s. While Elena’s was far easier to look at, it was no more friendly. Sasha was on his immediate left, touching his elbow. Elena was on his right, her breasts against his shoulder.
“This is ridiculous. I happen to know that Amira is in no danger and that her father is not looking for me. I met with two Syrian gentlemen this morning and did my best to cooperate in locating Amira. I also promised to stay away from her.”
“Why?” asked Sasha.
“Why?” repeated Chesney.
“Did they threaten you? Did they tell you what they had done to Zalinsky?” asked Elena.
“No,” Chesney insisted.
“Then why should you cooperate?” Sasha asked.
“There were considerations,” Chesney admitted.
“Considerations?” said Elena.
“I was compensated for my assistance and given the assurance that no word of my relationship to Amira would reach my family in England or those for whom I work.”
“Where is she? What did you tell them?” asked Elena.
“She is working at a café in Zagorsk,” he said softly. “I am sure they have found her by now.”
“Anything else, comrade?” asked Elena.
“You do not intend to take me in, do you?” pleaded Chesney. “I’ve really suffered quite enough, as you can see.”
“And, apparently, you have been compensated for it. You have enjoyed the company of a very young girl,” said Sasha.
“You don’t know Amira,” said Chesney flatly.
“You had one more thing to tell us,” Elena reminded him.
“The Syrian said a man had been following me. They said they would take care of him. I saw them put him into a black car.”
“And what did he look like?” asked Sasha.
“Big. Leather jacket. Rather homely.”
Elena and Sasha exchanged a hurried glance. “We will file a report,” said Sasha. “We suggest you ask your company to grant you a transfer to another country. Claim possible impending illness.”
“You are threatening me?”
“It would seem so,” Sasha agreed.
“I will take it under advisement,” said Chesney.
FOURTEEN
The walk down the street was not an easy one for Porfiry Petrovich, but he made the time go quickly by asking Emil Karpo a series of questions. “How is your headache?”