A Spring Betrayal

Chapter 61

I waited by the car while Tynaliev said his goodbyes, a handshake, a brief hug, then he was with me. He pointed to the rear seat of the car.

“In,” he ordered, and I obeyed.

“I think you’ve just about used up the last of my favors, Inspector,” he said. “I’ve persuaded Mr. Graves not to insist on your badge. I’ve also told him he no longer plays a part in our investigation. And nor do you.”

I said nothing as we drove off in the center of the convoy.

“I told him I had every confidence in his integrity and honesty,” Tynaliev continued. “I also said we intend to stamp down very heavily on such antisocial activities as the manufacture and distribution of pornography.”

“So you believe me, then?” I said. “About the cellar, about Graves’s involvement.”

Tynaliev gave me a world-weary look, settled back in his seat.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not,” he said. “You have no evidence, no witnesses, nothing. And even if you did, think of who Graves is. A businessman who’s brought a lot of wealth to this country. Who employs hundreds of people, if not thousands. Who puts plov and kleb on a lot of tables. Weigh that up against, what? A few dead orphans no one knew, cared for, wanted?”

“Rather cynical, Minister,” I said.

“No, Inspector, it’s practical. Without evidence, you can’t put him on trial. Continue to make allegations, and he’ll leave Kyrgyzstan, and take his wealth, his jobs, with him. What good will that do? Do I think he did all the things you say? I don’t know. But he’s not stupid. He’ll see this as a warning, a hint not to stray from the path.”

“That’s not enough, not for those dead children.”

Tynaliev’s voice was soft, almost paternal, explaining the realities of the world.

“Perhaps not. But it’s as good as they’ll get, you know that.”

He turned, opened the window, lit a cigarette, watched the smoke spin out into the air, snatched into nothingness.

“This is an end to it, do you understand? Finished. And one more thing. I’d advise your friend to head over the border in the next twenty-four hours, before anyone connects her to the Panfilov Park murder.”

I stared out of the window, the breeze stinging my eyes, turning everything blurred, indistinct.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Saltanat said, her face harsh with disbelief.

“Tynaliev wants the matter closed. Nothing’s going to happen to Graves, not with the connections he’s got.”

“And you’re just going to roll over?”

“He wants you out of the country and me back behind a desk.”

Saltanat stared at me, and I sensed something new in her eyes. Contempt.

“It’s all political,” I said. “Graves invests here, everyone makes money, we don’t have to rely totally on the rubles sent home from Moscow. The state survives, the government stays strong. That’s the way it is.”

Saltanat said nothing, moved around the hotel room, pulling clothes out of drawers, off hangers, stuffing them into a large kit bag.

“What are you doing?” I asked, realizing the stupidity of the question even as I asked it.

“Taking your minister’s advice. I’ve had enough of being shot at, hunted, stabbed. Enough of knife fights, guns, the taste in my mouth when I saw those filthy films. And it’s all been pointless.”

“Graves won’t dare start up again. He’ll close down his adoption business, he’ll be watched from now on.”

“Great,” Saltanat said, zipping up her bag. “Maybe he’ll come and move to my country and start making his home movies again. You know he thinks he can get away with anything. And what does the famous Murder Squad inspector do? Shrugs, nods, walks away. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

Saltanat slung her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the door.

“You know, Akyl, I really admired your honesty, even your anger. You chose to do the right thing, even when it could have gotten you killed. You waded through the shit, but you didn’t let it corrupt you. But now?”

She shook her head.

“Either you’re no longer the man I thought you were, or you never were. You’ve got blood on your hands, Akyl, and it’s not just from the bad guys.”

“I love you,” I said. It was all I could think to say, and perhaps it was even true.

“No, Akyl,” Saltanat said, her hand on the door handle, a look of compassion crossing her face for a few seconds. “You might wish you did. But you’re in love with Chinara. So. End of story.”

She stared at me, revealing nothing.

“I’m taking Otabek with me. Someone has to care.”

And then she was gone.