“Okay.” Gradskaya smiled tenderly. “I’m burning with curiosity.”
His two-room bachelor pad on Vernadsky Boulevard seemed to have been specifically designed for intimate encounters. The floor in the living room was covered in a very soft rug that begged to be walked on barefoot. There was only a low, wide, L-shaped sofa to sit on. The guest had no choice but to sit beside her host. Out of his extensive music library, Anton chose Mozart. A scented candle was quickly lit on the round coffee table, and two tiny cups of strong Turkish coffee were brewed.
“I’m listening, child,” Gradskaya said wearily when her gracious host finally stopped fussing and sat down beside her on the sofa.
“Regina Valentinovna.” He tried to make his voice low and a little raspy. “Aren’t you tired of talking about business?”
“All right, Anton, quit playing these games.” She frowned. “Tell me what you know.”
“I’m afraid,” he murmured in confusion. “I’m afraid you’ll leave the moment I tell you everything. And I want you to stay here a while. It’s so nice to have you here.”
“Don’t worry.” She reached out and ruffled the hair on the back of his head.
He caught her hand and kissed her firm, broad palm, and said in a whisper, “You really won’t leave?”
“I promised,” Regina whispered in reply and tenderly ran her finger across his cheek and touched his lips.
“I discovered entirely by accident that someone has taken an active interest in the business’s financial affairs.” His hands explored under her narrow suede skirt. “At first I thought it was the tax police, but it isn’t. It’s someone entirely different.” One of his hands slid across her hip and the other unzipped her skirt.
“Who?” Regina took his face in her hands and looked closely into his eyes.
“Crooks,” he exhaled. Pulling off her skirt, stockings, and panties simultaneously, he started to unbutton her silk blouse.
“Can you be more precise?” Regina asked.
“Curly’s men.” Her blouse fell to the floor, followed by her bra. In the candle’s weak light, he couldn’t see Regina Valentinovna’s face turn deathly pale.
“What specifically were they interested in?” she asked in a whisper.
Anton, who had been undressing himself as he undressed her, was almost completely nude.
“Everything. Absolutely everything. Not only that, they did it brashly, almost proprietarily.” He took off the last thing—dark blue socks with little white stars.
This is the end, Regina thought, barely responding to the young lawyer’s energetic caresses. Curly is going to take everything. All he needs there is Polyanskaya and Blindboy. In Curly’s place, that’s exactly what I would have done. But what am I going to do in my place? Or can’t I do anything? Is this truly the end? The end could be even worse, but never dumber. Lord, is Sinitsyn’s unlucky verse going to surface again?
Anton Konovalov was already moaning quietly, and Regina noted distractedly that she’d been wrong to reject the advances of these young peacocks for so many years. Although she understood perfectly well that it was exclusively a matter of money and career, nonetheless, she’d missed out on a lot. She couldn’t catch up now.
Things were approaching their denouement. The violin wailed high and passionately, and the cello’s deep, low voice began affectionately echoing it. Regina was surprised to discover that she was well on her way. All of a sudden there awoke in her such a bitter, insatiable thirst for life. She dug her nails so hard into her partner’s muscular back that she nearly drew blood. She arched her head back and she was off somewhere above the sparking waves of the violin solo.
The tub in Konovalov’s apartment was round and roomy and had a whirlpool. Anton carried his lady there and got in himself.
“You know, I think I’ll stay here until morning,” Regina said, and she closed her eyes. “I need to get good and relaxed.”
“Really?” He was overjoyed.
“It’s I who should thank you. Your secret is indeed worth a lot. You’re right, the information is indeed both unpleasant and dangerous. Be cautious with it, please.”
“Of course! Not a word to anyone! The silence of the grave!”
“That’s the truth.” Regina nodded pensively.
The lighter’s flame flickered and went out. Lena flicked it one more time, but it had run out of fuel.
“Hello, Lena Polyanskaya. Please get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can,” the killer whispered.
With trembling hands, Lena pulled the sweater Nina had left over her own. Blindboy flashed his flashlight on her.
“Do you have anything warmer?” he asked.
“No.”
“All right, then let’s go.” He took her by the hand.
His hand was iron.
He’s worked out and is twice as wide as he was then, Lena thought. He’s a killer.
They slipped out of the room and stole down the hallway. The building was filled with a sleepy silence. A minute later they were in some kind of a room. Looking around, Lena realized it was the kitchen. The flashlight flashed again, lighting a small, inconspicuous door next to the giant refrigerator. Through the door was a wooden staircase.
They climbed it and ended up in the attic. Moonlight fell through a small dormer window. Stepping cautiously over the creaking wood floor, trying not to make any noise, they went to a window which Blindboy had left half open. Outside was the steep incline of the metal roof. Blindboy gave Lena a boost, she crawled out the window, and her feet immediately slid on the icy metal. Vasya crawled out and managed to grab her hand.
“I’m going to jump first,” he whispered in her ear. “And then you. Don’t be afraid, it’s not high. I’ll catch you. Why is your hair wet?”
“I washed it,” Lena whispered in reply.
“That’s bad. You’ll catch cold. Okay, I’m going. When you jump, watch you don’t yell.”
He slipped almost silently off the edge of the roof. Lena began creeping after him. She was scared to look down. Easy for him to say it’s not high! It was every bit of five meters. Lena squeezed her eyes shut and jumped, imagining all her bones breaking, but she landed right in the killer’s iron arms. He had an odd smell.
“What is that smell?” Lena whispered.
“Ether. For the dogs,” he answered and cautiously set her down on the snow.
There was a noise in the building. A flashlight ran by a first-floor window. Grabbing Lena’s hand, the killer dragged her to the other side of the building. It was hard to run through the deep snow. Lena realized they were running away from the road.
The building was surrounded by a concrete wall at least two meters high. From her window, she hadn’t been able to see that past the trees. Right by the fence there was something dark in the snow. Lena could see that it was a dead body and that Vasya was taking the short pea jacket and scarf off it.
“Put this on,” he said. “Faster! Put the scarf on your head!”
Lena obediently zipped up and threw the wide knit scarf that had been taken off the dead man around her head. The scarf smelled of tobacco and men’s cologne. Blindboy pulled her by the arm, and they quickly ran along the wall. There was a narrow gap between concrete sections with fat pieces of steel armature sticking out of it.
“I’ll go first, you follow. Be careful going over the barbed wire. Don’t get snagged.”
“Is it electrified?” Lena asked.