Private Moscow

Chapter 78

I was in the library studying the files Justine had sent when I heard a commotion coming from somewhere in the building. There were raised voices, shouts of disbelief and crying. I ran toward the source of the noise, and found a crowd of people in the lobby, all clustered around Dinara. The detective who’d attempted to interrogate me, Anna something, stood next to her.

I pushed my way through the chattering crowd, and even though I couldn’t understand a word they said, their meaning was clear. Something terrible had happened. Feo, the big bear of a man, was comforting Dinara, whose eyes were red raw. She broke into fresh tears when she saw me.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. “What’s happened?”

“It’s Leonid,” she said between sobs. “He’s dead. Veles killed him.”

I went to her and she fell against me, weeping. Stunned, I looked at Anna, who nodded somber confirmation.

“How?” Feo asked, and I sensed the mood of the crowd change.

The residents were all former cops, and shock and dismay were being replaced by anger at the death of one of their own. For some, Leonid had been a friend, for others, a benefactor, but he was a former Moscow police officer to them all.

Anna replied to Feo’s question in Russian, and I felt Dinara sag with each word, doubtless an account of the horror. I looked down and saw she was teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Let’s go,” I said, and, supporting her, I ushered her through the crowd.

No one paid us much mind. They were all listening to Anna. I was desperate to know exactly what had happened, but I couldn’t understand a word she was saying, and Dinara’s welfare was my priority.

Soon we’d broken free of the crowd and I took Dinara through the building. She seemed delirious and was muttering in Russian. I half carried, half steered her to our accommodation block, and as we started down the corridor, I found my eyes drawn to the very end. The door to Leonid’s room. It would never open for him again.

I took Dinara into her room and laid her on the bed. I removed her coat and discovered her trousers were soaked through and freezing cold from her thighs to her ankles.

“Dinara,” I said, stroking her arm.

I touched her forehead to check for a fever. She felt a little warm, but not enough to worry me.

“Dinara,” I tried again. “I need you to focus.”

I was about to go and get help, when she suddenly turned to look at me.

“Jack, I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t...” She trailed off.

“It’s OK,” I said. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

She was haunted by the ugly memories, and her eyes reflected the horror they’d witnessed.

“He’s gone,” she said simply.

Her eyes filled with fresh tears.

“He’s gone.”