A Killing Winter

Chapter 48

The driver sounded his horn, impatient for bed, and I got back in the taxi. We headed towards Sverdlovsky, the traffic thin, our bald tyres sliding and slipping on the packed snow. The driver parked outside the station gates, knowing driving out could be a lot harder than driving in. I thrust some notes at him and hauled myself out. The guard on duty at the door nodded as I passed, watched as I signed in, scribbled a short note, then headed to the Chief’s office. I’d planned to slide the note under his door, but as I approached, I saw that his light was on.

I swore softly; now I’d signed in, I couldn’t just tiptoe away and out of the door. Resigning myself to a whirlwind of abuse, I bruised my knuckles on the door. The Chief looked very pleased with himself; the two brimming glasses on his desk suggested he’d been celebrating.

‘Inspector!’ he announced, ‘at last, an end to this heap of shit.’

He waved at the glass nearest to me, and picked his own up as encouragement.

‘The mastermind behind bars, and the Minister off our back, this deserves a drink or two, da?’

I waited until the Chief was halfway through his glass before I picked up mine and made a show of raising it to my lips.

‘So what’s the story? You’ve lost me,’ I said, holding up my cigarettes for permission.

For answer, he pushed an already overflowing ashtray towards me. Stubbed-out papiroshi, I noticed, not the Chief’s brand.

‘It’s a triumph of community spirit,’ he said, topping up his glass again. ‘A public-minded citizen gave us the location of our prime suspect, I personally sent a team down there to facilitate the arrest, and I expect a full confession by morning.’

‘Skilled questioning under the gentle hands of Urmat Sariev, I suppose?’

The Chief looked slightly affronted by my tone of voice.

‘The officer is one of our most skilled interrogators,’ he said.

‘Then I’d like to sit in on the gentle interrogation, if I may,’ I replied.

The Chief smiled, and waved the half-empty bottle in my direction.

‘Inspector, let me be frank. You haven’t exactly covered yourself in glory with this case. I can’t write to the Minister and commend your efforts.’

He held a hand up, to forestall a protest from me that wasn’t in fact forthcoming.

‘I wouldn’t want to dilute Officer Sariev’s efforts in the pursuit of justice. He’s quite capable of explaining the benefits of confession on his own. And besides, when the Umarova trial begins, your involvement might be seen as a conflict of interest, what with you having slept with her.’

Umarova.

So now I didn’t just know who was about to be asked the hard questions, I also knew Saltanat’s family name.

‘It might be best for all concerned, and certainly for your career, if you take a back seat on this one, Inspector. Not that your work hasn’t been noted and recognised, but why put unnecessary confusion and doubt before the public?’

‘Chief, I know that Saltanat Umarova is Uzbek Security. What does she have to do with the killings? Plenty of Uzbek women have died as well. And you’re not suggesting that she killed them?’

‘Of course not,’ the Chief agreed, ‘but something as complex as this, it needs a ringleader, a mastermind, someone who can pull the right strings.’

‘But her motive?’ I persisted. ‘Why would she do all this?’

‘Land. Territory.’

I looked at him, saying nothing.

‘Let me explain. Umarova is a loyal Uzbek citizen, as well as a senior investigator in Uzbek Security. Diplomatic status, comes and goes as she pleases.’

I nodded.

‘The Uzbeks have always considered Osh to be their city; the fact it’s in the Kyrgyz Republic is neither here nor there. They want it. Have done ever since Uncle Joe said it was Kyrgyz back in the thirties. So this is how they set out to do it, through terror and confusion. Cause enough trouble, the Kyrgyz in Osh riot against the Uzbeks, the Uzbeks fight back, and the Uzbek army comes in over the border “to protect fellow Uzbeks”. And once they’re in the city, they won’t be leaving any time soon. The Russians advise both sides “to keep calm”, and you’ve got a stalemate, with us Kyrgyz getting fucked in the arse.’

‘It’s an interesting theory,’ I said, and took out another cigarette.

‘One you’d have spotted straight away if you hadn’t been looking at the world with your little eye,’ he said, pointing at my groin, ‘and fallen for that whore.’

He saw I wasn’t amused, tried another approach.

‘Look, it’s only been a few months since your wife died. No one could expect you to be your usual self, not with sorrow blurring your eyes. A pretty girl comes along, life starts to stir again, spring following on from winter. Natural. But not a good idea if you’re Murder Squad.’

‘So she’s Ms Big, the power behind the throne, right?’

The Chief winked and shook his head.

‘Of course not, there are bigger people behind this. People we couldn’t touch even if we found them with a severed head in one hand and a machete in the other. People you read about in the newspapers, watch on TV. But we bite off what we can chew, and we only chew what we can swallow. And in this case, that’s your Ms Umarova.’

He opened his mouth and bared his teeth, snapping his jaw shut.

‘Case closed,’ he smiled and emptied his glass.

Then the smile left his face, and I saw the power that lay behind; it was a face used to having orders obeyed.

‘Closed just like your mouth, Inspector. I hope we’re clear on that? And while I remember, your case notes, let me have them, all of them.’ The smile returned, ‘Just for the record.’

‘I still have a few questions.’

‘I’ll let you have a look at the transcript of the confession.’

‘Edited highlights, I suppose?’

The smile widened.

‘You know us too well.’

I sat back in the chair, tapped the end of my unlit cigarette against the desk to tamp down any loose tobacco.

‘The two shitheads at Fatboys, Tyulev and Lubashov, the hit that went wrong. What was that all about?’

‘Umarova wanted you dead; she knew you were our best Murder Squad. A high-level killing like the Minister’s daughter, no way we couldn’t put our top man on it. And you used to be smart enough to be a real risk to her plans. Tyulev was sent to distract you so Lubashov could comb your hair from the inside.’

I nodded.

‘And Gasparian? The Armenian high-dive-on-to-concrete champion?’

‘A coincidence. He’s not the only man to have fucked a whore in this town.’

‘So why the jump?’

The Chief poured yet more vodka for himself, raised an eyebrow at my still-full glass.

‘You taken a vow of abstinence or something? You should celebrate, not worry about why some low-life loser dies trying to escape.’

I nodded in agreement, raised the glass to my mouth, didn’t drink.

‘You’re right, Chief, it all ties together. Destabilise Osh, capture it in the name of international law and order, own the most fertile part of our country.’

I smelt the harsh metal scent of the vodka. He was drinking Rasputin, the 70° proof stuff, like gasoline, with lit-match chasers.

‘What about the dead Russian woman, Chief? Where does she fit into the Uzbek master plan?’

His face flushed from the vodka, the slightest slurring and hesitation in his words, the Chief frowned with the effort of marshalling his thoughts.

‘I think her boyfriend did her, made it look copycat, so we wouldn’t look too closely at him. Not that we could, even if we wanted. Russian military, law unto themselves. You know he’s got a wife and two kids back in Ufa? A sweet little half-brother or -sister to Boris and Anastasia isn’t going to go down well at the dacha back home.’

‘Sounds like you’ve got all the pieces in place. All you need now is that confession.’

The Chief raised a hand, in modest objection to my praise.

‘Of course, we’ll stick to our existing story as far as the public are concerned. No need to inflame public opinion. But we’ll let the Uzbeks know we know. And we can always produce your girlfriend as evidence if there’s a problem.’

I stood up, and stretched. I was tired, and the temptation of the vodka was nagging at me like a sore tooth.

‘Giving you my notes can wait until morning?’

The Chief was magnanimous in victory.

‘Sure, get your head down, take a couple of days off.’

I tapped the desk with the knuckles of my good hand, the sound like distant shots from a silenced weapon.

‘That public-minded citizen, the one who gave you the tip-off?’

‘Yes?’

I jerked my thumb at the door to the Chief’s private bathroom.

‘Why don’t you ask my old friend Kursan Alymbayev to join us, then I’ll explain why everything you’ve just told me is complete bullshit.’