Private Moscow

Chapter 76

An old woman stood by the frozen edges of the river and tossed crumbs across the ice. A solitary robin flitted from spot to spot, pecking at the bounty, and the old woman chatted to the little bird as though it was a friend.

Dinara watched her, and wondered at her story. What kind of life had led her to this small park, where she sought the company of birds? Leonid shuffled on the spot and rubbed his gloved hands together before pushing them into his coat pockets.

It was only 3:45 p.m., but it was already gloomy. Heavy clouds had hung over the city for the past few days, threatening snow, but they were yet to deliver. They seemed to get lower and darker with each passing moment, and even though this winter had already seen more than enough snow to last a lifetime, Dinara wished they would shed their load and get the inevitable storm over with.

“She’s late,” Leonid observed, checking his watch.

Dinara caught sight of Anna Bolshova the moment the words had left Leonid’s mouth. She was hurrying along the wide boulevard that ran alongside the roadway that led to Krymsky Bridge. She wore her police uniform and standard-issue long winter coat. The boulevard had been cleared of snow, but the park itself was buried. Dinara and Leonid stood where the boulevard met the embankment, near the bridge. The only other person around was the old woman feeding the friendly robin. High to Dinara’s right, traffic rumbled over the bridge. To her left, the long pavilion, which usually housed hundreds of paintings by local artists, was empty. Robbed of vital people and civilizing artwork, the Muzeon Park of Arts seemed a desolate, foreboding place. The Interior Ministry stood approximately half a kilometer to the east, along Krymsky Bank, and Dinara was glad Anna hadn’t arranged to meet any closer to the department.

“Sorry,” the detective said as she drew near. “I was called in for another corrective meeting.”

Dinara was puzzled.

“It’s boss-speak for a reprimand,” Leonid explained. “Dressed up as advice to help you improve your performance.”

“What the hell are you people into?” Anna asked, glancing around the park.

Leonid shrugged, and Dinara couldn’t think of a good way to answer the question.

“That base,” Anna went on. “I made a couple of calls and I was told that it never existed. So I called a friend in Army Intelligence and he said I was playing with fire.”

“Did he say anything else?” Dinara asked.

“Are you kidding? He was terrified even talking to me,” Anna replied.

Leonid shook his head with resignation. Dinara knew what he was thinking. They’d hit a dead end.

“Give me the name,” Anna said. “I did as much as I could. Keep your side of the deal, Boykov.”

He sighed. “OK,” he conceded. “The Black Hundreds recruiter is a man called Erik Utkin. He runs a group out of a gym called Grom Boxing. It’s where Spartak Zima trains.”

Anna whistled.

“The fighters are dealing for him,” Leonid continued. “We’ve been conducting surveillance on them. I’ve asked my team to send you everything we’ve got.”

“Really?” Anna asked.

Leonid nodded.

“Your team? I thought you two are all there is,” Anna said. “And your American boss of course.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Leonid advised her.

Dinara was surprised when Anna stepped forward and embraced Leonid.

“Thank you,” she said. “This might just save my neck. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“You owe me then?” Leonid asked.

“I didn’t say that.” Anna flashed a smile. “Good luck.”

She turned on her heels and started back along the icy boulevard.

“So we’ve got nothing?” Dinara remarked.

She sensed Leonid wasn’t listening, and realized his attention had drifted to three men who were coming west along the boulevard. Dinara looked to her left and saw two others beside the long pavilion, heading south, directly toward her.

“Either Anna is part of this and walked us into a trap, or they were alerted by her inquiries and followed her here,” Leonid said urgently.

Dinara’s stomach tightened and her legs went weak.

“Dinara,” Leonid said, his voice pleading and fearful. “Run!”