The second assassination squad must have followed Gusovsky from his home to isolate and mark his car. As the thin man bustled from a rear entrance of what he’d thought an impregnable fortress, hurrying the blind man towards the BMW, waiting gunmen opened up with more machine guns – RPKs and M72s again – catching both in triangular fire. Three bodyguards and the waiting driver died as well.
The killing of Gusovsky and Yerin ended the inter-Mafia conflict: the fighting that followed was between second-level Chechen battling for succession to the leadership.
‘It was how it should have been settled,’ said Pavin, when they learned of the death of the Chechen leaders.
‘There isn’t any satisfaction,’ said Danilov.
‘There shouldn’t be, not in vengeance,’ said the other man.
It was the day the summons to the Interior Ministry arrived, from Vasili Oskin.
There was tea and further congratulations, this time for the way the prosecution evidence had been assembled and presented. There was also the news that the Rome trial was expected to begin in November. It was predicted to last three months, and the Italian authorities had been assured Danilov would be available throughout the entire hearing.
‘So you will be away from Moscow for a considerable time,’ said the soft-voiced deputy minister. ‘It could even extend beyond that period.’
Was he here for nothing more than a hypothetical discussion about a trial he’d always known he’d have to attend? ‘I’ll make a diary note of the date, to avoid any overlap with cases here.’
‘However long it takes, it will mean your being away from Petrovka,’ said the man. ‘And there is still the unresolved matter of the directorship. I clearly can’t continue as the titular head.’
It wasn’t a hypothetical conversation, Danilov accepted. ‘Clearly not,’ he agreed cautiously.
‘There’s been widespread discussion, about your being appointed,’ disclosed Oskin. There is a strong feeling among many people the position is rightly yours, after the success of this most recent case
…’ He hesitated. ‘… and another strong body of opinion that precisely because of that success, you are far too valuable an investigator to be elevated into an administrative role…’
They weren’t even bothering to change the excuse. Danilov waited to feel disappointed – robbed again – but nothing came.
‘… And then there is this further long absence, in Italy. The Bureau could not be left without a commander for an indeterminate period…’
‘No,’ agreed Danilov. If there was a feeling, it was boredom.
‘So the appointment is to be made from within this Ministry, not from the Militia,’ said Oskin. ‘A trained lawyer. Vadim Losev. A very able man. He will have the title but in effect it will in future be a joint command. And you’re being promoted, to full General.’
‘I am sure we will work well together,’ said Danilov.
That evening, as he had done on several nights since her death, Danilov detoured to Novodevichy cemetery on his way home to Kirovskaya to stand by the marked grave, knowing he had to stop doing it but unwilling to, so soon.
‘They did win, darling,’ he said. ‘I fought like you said I should, but they still defeated me.’ He wondered if he would ever learn who they were. And what he could do about it, if he ever did. He wouldn’t bother to tell Olga, not yet. She’d only become upset, even with the confirmed but meaningless promotion. He’d tell her about Italy, instead. She could start making another shopping list.