Madness Treads Lightly

CHAPTER 13

Moscow, March 1996

“I’m probably wrong to call. But I thought you… Basically, I thought you thought Mitya didn’t kill himself, either. Or am I wrong? Don’t you care, either?” The hysterical notes in Katya Sinitsyna’s voice were gone. She spoke in an indifferent monotone.

“Katya. I do care,” Lena said gently. “And you were right to call. I wanted to talk to you myself. I’m sorry, I think I offended you on the stairs.”

“What do you mean? No, you didn’t offend me at all. Sometimes I behave badly… You know, I found a piece of paper in Mitya’s jacket pocket. I already shared it with someone, but she said I was crazy. She’s a good person, a doctor, and she wants to help me. But I have to talk to someone who isn’t going to say it’s crazy. I’ll read you what it says. Your name’s on it.”

Lena listened to the strange text that Katya read into the receiver very slowly, syllable by syllable almost, and thought, A doctor… a woman doctor… That fake doctor examined Liza very professionally and answered my questions like a real physician. A smart and experienced doctor. And at the same time she persisted in leading the conversation around to suicide, as if she were feeling me out, waiting for me to keep the subject going, to say, you know, “Recently my friend’s brother…”

“Katya,” Lena nearly shouted when she’d finished reading it. “What’s the name of the doctor you shared your suspicions with?”

“I can’t tell you,” Katya said quietly, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I can’t. She’s helping me. She’s trying to cure me. But from the very beginning, she asked me not to tell anyone her name. She’s a very well-known psychotherapist. People are dying to get in to see her. That’s why from the very start she asks those she decides to help not to say her name or talk about her. I’m sorry. I also forgot to tell you that Mitya’s diary’s gone missing, the one the page was torn out of, and I found a forensic psychiatry textbook in his bag, and also… Oh, wait a minute. I think that’s my doorbell. I’ll be right back.”

Katya set down the receiver. Lena heard her steps receding and then a very distant voice.

“Oh, hello.” She said a name, but Lena couldn’t make it out. Inna? Galina? It was too far from the phone.

A few minutes later she heard someone pick up the receiver and breathe lightly into it.

“Hello, Katya… ?” Lena asked cautiously.

Silence. Then a dial tone.

Lena was surprised to discover her hands were shaking. To calm down and collect her thoughts, she had to brew herself a cup of sweet, strong coffee and smoke a cigarette. But first she had to write down exactly what Katya had read to her over the phone. This was very important. She had to write it down before it slipped her mind. Where? On a scrap of paper? No. Best to enter it into the computer.

While the kettle was boiling, Lena switched on her laptop, opened a new file, and called it “Rabbit.” That was what Olga had called Mitya since they were kids: Brer Rabbit. Not a very flattering nickname for a boy, but in their family it took on a warm and affectionate tone.

Quickly typing what Katya had told her from memory, Lena slipped Mitya’s cassette into the tape player, wound the tape to the spot where the strange words started after the last song, and added that to the document as well. Then she took out a blank disk and copied the file onto it.

The kettle boiled. Katya didn’t call back. After pouring boiling water over the ground coffee in the little cezve, Lena started looking for her own notebook. She came across a letter from New York she still hadn’t opened, though it had come a long time ago. It was from Michael Barron, a professor at Columbia University. She had to call Katya back. Maybe they just got disconnected. Who could have come to see her so late? A girlfriend? Olga had said Mitya’s wife didn’t have any friends. Katya’s line was busy. Lena dialed her number over and over.

She managed to brew and drink her coffee, smoke her cigarette, and open the letter.

Dear Lena, she read. First of all, congratulations on your daughter’s birth. I’m a little late with the congratulations, of course, since the child’s already two, but what can I do? I’m lazy and don’t like to write a letter without a practical reason. But now I have one.

I’ve started work on a history of Russian Siberia. It’s ridiculous, of course, for someone who doesn’t know a word of Russian to be studying the country’s history. But if it’s ridiculous it can’t be sad.

I need your help. I’m planning to visit Russia in the near future and travel through several Siberian cities. Above all, I’m interested in Tobolsk and its famed wooden citadel.

I remember your stories about Siberia, especially that city. As you likely realize, I’ll need an interpreter on my trip. I know you have a small child, but I would be very grateful if you could accompany me on my trip as interpreter and consultant. I’d rather not hire a stranger.

The trip won’t take more than ten days. I can pay you two hundred dollars a day and cover all your travel expenses, hotels, and food.

If necessary, I can even pay a babysitter for your daughter for the days you will be gone. My arrival depends only on your decision. I’ve bought a ticket to Moscow with open travel dates. I can fly out as soon as you say. I’ll be waiting for your call.

A big hello to your husband and daughter. Sincerely yours, Michael.

Then his telephone number.

Katya’s was still busy. Lena looked at the clock: 1:50. She had to call New York in any case. She had to say yes or no. And why say no?

She could leave Liza with Vera Fyodorovna. She could even buy them a package trip to a good vacation spot outside Moscow for those days. Lena had wanted to do that for a long time. Two thousand dollars for ten days wasn’t bad money at all.

Right then she heard the long ring that meant a long-distance call.

There! Lena had time to think as she picked up the receiver. It must be Michael. This is a little awkward.

“Lena! Darling! Who have you been talking to for the last hour and a half?” She heard her husband’s voice.

“Seryozha!”

She could hear him so well, it was as if he were calling from the next apartment instead of London.

“I miss you so much. I’m counting the days until I get back. How are things? How’s my Liza?”

“All’s well here. Liza’s healthy but misses you a lot. Every day she asks me ten times when her papa is coming home.”

“What about you? Miss me?”

“Of course I do, Seryozha. I miss you terribly. Tell me, how are things there?”

“I won’t tell you over the phone. When I get there I’ll tell you all the details. Basically, things are fine.”

“Seryozha, I need to discuss something with you. I just read a letter from New York only a minute before you called.”

“The one I took out of the mailbox? You’ve only just read it? You’ve got to be kidding!”

“That’s the one. I just didn’t get to it.” Lena related the letter’s contents to her husband.

“So what’s the problem?” he asked after she finished. “You don’t know whether or not you should agree?”

“That’s the problem,” Lena admitted.

“Do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. On the one hand, yes. You don’t often see two thousand dollars lying around. On the other hand, I’ve never been away from Liza that long and she’s still so little.”

“Ten days isn’t long at all. And you could use a change of scenery, a distraction. At least there you won’t be sitting in front of your laptop every night.”

“So you think I should agree?”

“Yes. I do. I only have one question. This Michael, is he going to be hitting on you?”

“Of course he will!” Lena burst out laughing. “But he’ll do it gently and politely, like a gentleman.”

“Don’t start anything with that man. If you can promise me you won’t have an affair with him, I’ll let you go.”

“He’s fat and bald, and he’s got a lumpy nose. He likes to lecture me at length on the dangers of smoking and after a meal he digs around in his teeth with a toothpick in front of everyone.”

“Some gentleman.” Seryozha snickered. “Well, I’m reassured that you aren’t going to have an affair with him.”

“You know, I’d like to send Liza and Vera Fyodorovna to a good vacation spot outside Moscow for those ten days, so they can breathe fresh air and Vera Fyodorovna doesn’t have to deal with waiting in line at the stores and cooking Liza’s meals on top of everything else. Michael’s offering to pay for a babysitter, so let him pay.”

“A fine idea. Only let me know exactly when you send them off. I’ll probably be back before you. Here, write down my number at the hotel. As soon as you know your exact plans, be sure to call me.”

After talking with her husband, Lena felt reassured. This was a good time to call New York and accept the offer. But before that, to clear her conscience, she dialed Katya Sinitsyna’s number one more time. It was still busy.

“Well, how are you?” Regina Valentinovna patted Katya on the cheek and passed quickly to the kitchen in her fur coat, boots, and thin suede gloves.

Katya was delayed at the front door when her slipper caught on the leg of a stool. When she got to the kitchen, she saw her guest hanging up her phone.

“I’d been trying to call you back,” Regina explained. “But your line was busy. It turns out you forgot to hang up the phone.”

“No, I didn’t. I was just talking to someone,” Katya said, flustered. “I should call back. I feel awkward.”

“Who were you talking to, if I may ask?” Regina’s suede-gloved hand was still on the receiver. Katya didn’t notice that hand shift the receiver ever so slightly. It was no longer pressing down on the lever. Anyone calling Katya’s number would get a busy signal.

Regina Valentinovna smelled of fine, slightly acrid French perfume. Katya loved that smell, mysterious and slightly disturbing.

“Why not? I was calling Olga’s friend Polyanskaya. Remember I told you about her?”

Regina nodded silently.

“Well then,” Katya went on. “I just thought I should tell her about the piece of paper I found. Her name is on it, after all. And her husband works for the police. What if he’s able to find something out? You know, through his own channels. Local cops are one thing, but a colonel from Petrovka is very different. They find murderers. Not always, but sometimes they do.”

“Katya, Katya,” Regina Valentinovna sighed sadly. “I’ve explained this to you. You shouldn’t tell people what you found yet. Loose lips sink ships. What did Polyanskaya say?”

“No, I…” Katya was flustered. “You think I shouldn’t have called her?”

“You’re a grown-up. I can’t think for you. So how about Polyanskaya? How did she react to what you told her?”

“She…” Katya suddenly blushed, remembering she’d nearly violated Regina’s condition by mentioning her in a conversation with an outsider. She didn’t name names, but still…

“Come on, why are you blushing like a tomato?” Regina asked, smiling. “Did you blab about me? Fess up. I won’t hurt you.”

“No, I didn’t say anything about you! I just read her the text and asked whether she believed the same as everyone else, that Mitya did it himself.”

“And? Does she?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think she thinks my suspicions are crazy, as if I’d dreamed them up while I was high. She didn’t really have time to say anything specific, because before she could say anything, I heard the doorbell and went to open the door for you.”

The conversation suddenly made Katya uncomfortable. Why so many questions? Was it all that interesting who said what? First Polyanskaya had asked her about Regina Valentinovna, and now it was the other way around. This was silly. It was as if they were trying to get something out of her, first one and then the other. They should be talking about Mitya and only Mitya. What could be more important than his death? After all, so little time had passed and so much was unclear.

“That’s actually why I came,” Regina said, as if suddenly remembering something. “I got some new medicine for you. I’ve actually had it for a week, but I got tied up, there was so much going on. But when you called, I remembered. It’s a new American drug developed especially for people like you. It makes you feel approximately the same way morphine does, but it’s weaker, naturally. Most important, it’s not addictive. It replaces morphine without the withdrawal you’re so afraid of. The medicine will let you reduce the dose gradually, until you’re entirely cured.”

“Have they really come up with a medicine like that?” Katya got very excited. “Can I really quit without the suffering?”

“With money, anything is possible.” Regina smiled slyly.

“Oh! It must be terribly expensive.”

“Don’t be silly, child. That’s not why I said that about money. I know your situation. You haven’t the means to pay. I’m doing this for myself as much as for you. If I’ve accepted a patient, I have to see their case through to the end. Otherwise I feel defeated. And I don’t like that.”

“Thank you so, so much, Regina Valentinovna. I don’t even know how to thank you.”

“Please, stop!” Regina waved her suede-gloved hand and hitched up her sleeve a little to look at her watch. “It’s very late now. You should inject yourself the first time with me here. I have to see how you react so I can adjust the dosage. Here’s your first dose.”

Regina took a small, dark brown vial, unlabeled, out of her purse.

“How many doses are here?” Katya asked, looking at the vial as if bewitched.

“There’s one here. A trial. I’ll see how it goes and leave you as much as you need. You have to understand, the medicine is very expensive. And you’re not the only patient I have. So I have to dole it all out precisely. You have a needle, I hope?”

“Yes… Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even offer you any tea. Shall we have some tea first?”

“Child, who drinks tea at two in the morning? Come on, don’t drag this out. Let’s just go into the bedroom. It will be better if you lie down after the injection.”

Sitting on her rumpled, unmade bed holding a syringe filled with the translucent liquid, Katya was about to insert the needle in her arm. She searched for a good spot on her well-poked skin, but Regina stopped her.

“Wait. Don’t you even rub it with alcohol before the shot? What good is that? You’ll get an abscess. Do you have alcohol?”

“Yes, of course. Just a minute.”

Carefully setting aside the syringe, Katya ran to the kitchen, got a large bottle of pure alcohol, and in the medicine cabinet right there by the refrigerator found her last cotton ball.

“Well then, I’m ready,” she said as she sat back down on the bed.

Regina stood over her and watched silently as the fine needle entered her skin. She watched the blue vein swell up as it filled with the liquid from the syringe.

Katya didn’t have time to understand or feel anything. Her ears started ringing. The noise mounted quickly and became deafening, as if a jet plane had flown directly into her brain. Everything started spinning in front of her. Regina’s face, then Mitya’s face, then other faces, some strange, some vaguely familiar. Gradually they all merged into one dense, opaque blackness.

Regina carefully wrapped Katya’s immobile body in the blanket and generously poured the alcohol from the bottle over it. She quickly went into the kitchen, took a cigarette from the nearly empty pack of Kents and went back to the room. She lit it and, after taking a few drags, threw the long, burning ash onto the alcohol-soaked blanket. After another second’s thought, she flicked her disposable lighter and lit the corner of the floral duvet cover.

Then she left the apartment quietly, closing the front door firmly behind her. She did all this without once removing her suede gloves.

All this fuss with loose witnesses had pissed Regina off and left her with almost no time or energy for Venya, and he was doing poorly. Worse than ever. He could explode at any moment.

She had to do everything herself. She couldn’t turn to anyone for help. When you make a request, you’re sharing information and creating a dependence. Given their connections and money, they could hire any killer, the best. But a good killer is cautious. Before carrying out a contract, he might well start asking questions about the individual standing in the way of Veniamin Productions.

There had been instances when the killer had called the person he was supposed to kill and offered him a deal: “They’ve hired me. If you pay more, I won’t kill you.” There’d been other cases when the killer had found out that the reason for the contract wasn’t revenge, or debts, or territory but information dangerous to the client. Before carrying out the contract, he would try to dig out that information. Information people kill for can come in handy. If it’s used intelligently, it can mean sums that make the killer’s fee look like a joke.

Regina had to account for every eventuality, even the least likely. That was exactly why she couldn’t hire someone good to solve her mounting problems. She had to do everything herself.