"You should understand the psychology of the man. He wanted to show he had money. He felt some affection to Olga but he used her to show how tough he was having the prettiest woman in the city".
"That is, he just decorated her", concluded Rogov upon a minutes reflection.
"That's quite right. You've got it. He decorated her. Like a New Year tree". I looked at him with respect.
"OK, you've convinced me". Rogov mockingly put his hands in the air.
At that instant my LG smartphone began to vibrate producing a melody from Vivaldi's "L'estate". I opened the slider.
"Is this Mr. Anderson?" heard I an unfamiliar hoarse voice.
"Wrong number, this is not Mr. Anderson".
"Excuse me; this is Captain Murkin from Police Station 11. We detained a woman who says her name is Ole Lukoje. She has no identification papers with her, and she gave us this telephone number because, as she states, you can certify her identity".
"I'll be at your station in fifteen minutes", snapped I.
3. Ole Lukoje
Captain Murkin turned out a small round-headed middle aged person with big moustaches. His appearance fitted his name[1] and as he opened his mouth to greet me and Rogov I was ready to hear the purr. Instead I heard the familiar hoarse voice: "Good evening, Sir". He was addressing himself to Rogov. Mike decided to accompany me to prevent Olga 'from being put to tortures' as he loftily declared. As an officer from Central Headquarters he knew the heads of local police stations in person and could be very helpful.
"Hullo, Captain", responded Rogov condescendingly. He had a higher rank and a much higher position.
"And this must be Mr. Anderson", said the Captain scrutinizing my face and clothes.
"I am not Anderson".
Murkin, looking embarrassed, explained: "The woman gave your telephone number and told that your name was Anderson and you 'had begot' her. But you seem too young to be her father". He smiled evidently being sure he had paid me a complement.
"My name is Alexei Larin", informed I him and produced my lawyers ID card.
After the policeman carefully read it I added: "And the woman's name is Olga Smirnova".
"Your name is Larin rather than Anderson; her name is Smirnova, rather than Lukoje", repeated Murkin. "And what shall I write in her examination record?" exclaimed he looking completely confused.
"Nothing", intervened Rogov. "You will write nothing because there will be no examination record", added he with disarming frankness looking straight into Captain's eyes.
"And what shall I do with this?" complained Murkin opening a folder on his desk and taking out several sheets of paper.
"This is a complaint folded by Mr. Zilberman, the manager of 'Otvet' restaurant. He writes":…
The woman who, as it was clearly seen, was very drunk jumped on the stage dashed to Miss Snegova who was performing a song, snatched the microphone out of her hands and rudely shoved her away. Miss Snegova couldn't keep her feet and fell down on the table standing near the stage. The table broke to pieces; Miss Snegova with numerous injuries was taken to hospital. Fortunately, people sitting at the table remained physically safe though their clothes sustained irreparable damage. Meanwhile the woman with the microphone uttered shrill sounds that were like the squeak of the pig. I was able to make out two words: 'Luk' and 'Oi'[2]. In that way she continued until the police arrived to arrest her".
"And that's not all!" added Murkin offensively. This is a report of Sergeant Avarov: "…The woman put up strong resistance. She kicked me at the groin making me inactive for a while…"
"If I release her what shall I say to Mr.Zilberman, Miss Snegova and other people who will come tomorrow bringing complaints about Smirnova?"
"That complicates matters", agreed Rogov. "Can I have a look at the documents?" he extended his hand and Murkin, showing hesitation, handed him over his folder
Rogov looked through the papers and said: "Let us do it in the following way. I keep these documents with me. Mr. Larin will meet all these people to take signed releases and waivers. If he manages to do that the documents disappear and Mrs. Smirnova is set free. If he fails I give the documents back and the Captain starts legal procedures".
Murkin pursed his lips manifesting dissatisfaction.
"It goes without saying Mr.Larin must compensate Sergeant Avarov and Police Station 11 on the whole for the damage caused by the actions of his defendant at once. And you, Captain, must provide Mr.Larin with a list of the aggrieved persons with their addresses. Agreed?"
Murkin assumed a detached air. They shook hands.
"I'll see you later", said Rogov to me and disappeared from my view.
Murkin sat at his desk and diligently began making notes compiling a list of the aggrieved persons.
I fixed my eyes on him. He was obviously a good, ordinary officer who new the rules and never ran into trouble. The general practice at local police stations was to classify detained persons into two groups. One included people who had influential helpers or relatives. These men of consequence were informed about the incident and usually took efforts to hush up the affair, the police officers getting money or promotions. The rest of the people were subject to ordinary legal procedures. If the police had doubts about the personality of the detainee they tried to establish his or her identity as was in the case with Olga. Murkin did his duty and expected a reward. And I didn't let him down.
As he handed me the list I took out my wallet.
"This is for Avarov, for you personally, and an additional sum for Mrs. Smirnova if she needs something", explained I showing gratitude and giving him twelve thousand rubles. "How is she, by the way?"
Murkin readily switched on a walkie-talkie.
"Is this you, Sidorov? What about that woman in the third cell? A blond?" He looked at me questioningly. I nodded energetically. "Yes, a blond. No, her name is Smirnova, as it turns out. Who else is in the sell? And what are they doing? Really?"
He switched off and reported: "She is in the cell with three prostitutes. Right now they are signing".
"What are they singing???" I couldn't hide my surprise.
Murkin shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go and see for ourselves".
We left his office and went downstairs and entered a long corridor with cells for detainees. The corridor was filled with sounds of Russian folk song.
Oh, Father Frost, Father Frost,
Don't freeze me, don't freeze me!
Don't freeze my horse!
intoned women's voices and among them I unmistakably recognized Olga's contralto.
Now I had no doubt Olga would survive. She got perfectly adapted to her imprisonment. Perhaps she had a propensity to living in a prison cell.
"The last question, Captain. How much time do I have?"
"I cannot detain her for more than 24 hours, you know. So the deadline is tomorrow's evening. But the sooner the better. I'll be here on duty the whole night."