The Twelfth Department

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

When Korolev came back out of his building Morozov was leaning against the car once again, his arms folded, his good eye shut as he allowed the sun to warm his face.

“It took longer than I thought it would.”

Morozov opened his eye to look him over. “You look better in some ways, worse in others,” he said. Korolev knew what he meant-he was tidier, for certain-but shaving seemed to have shown up his cuts and bruises all the more. At least the shirt he was wearing was clean and ironed-that must count for something.

They got into the car and Morozov turned the key in the ignition, causing a bark from the exhaust that sent a cat on the other side of the road leaping for the protection of a windowsill.

“Well, I feel better in some ways and worse in others.”

Korolev ran a hand through his still-wet hair and took a deep breath. He had to focus on one thing-the most important thing. He’d a job to do and doing it well might save both Yuri and him from unpleasantness.

* * *

By now, they were on the Boulevard Ring heading north and he caught Morozov looking in the rearview mirror-and not for the first time, it occurred to him. He twisted in the seat to look out of the back window, wondering what had caught the old soldier’s attention.

“Do you see them?” Morozov asked.

“Who?”

“Those two fellows in the black Emka.”

Korolev saw them all right-they were hard to miss, given that there wasn’t much traffic and they were only a short distance behind them. Two familiar men, as it turned out-the two fellows from the station in Peredelkino and from the riverbank.

“I have to ask you, Alexei Dmitriyevich, are you in some sort of trouble? They’ve been behind us since I picked you up in Bersenevka. I thought they’d dropped us when we went to your place, but they were just waiting at the top of the lane.”

Korolev had a quick look at his surroundings.

“Pavel Timofeevich-if we stop at the next corner it’s a five minute walk to Petrovka. I’ll need the car for the rest of the day and I’m sure you’ve better things to be doing than driving me around.”

Morozov looked reluctant and began to shake his head in disagreement, but Korolev touched his shoulder.

“There’s no point in two of us being in a mess when one will do. If I need a friend, I know I have one and I’m grateful for it.”

Morozov took Korolev’s outstretched hand in his own and shook it once. Then with a grunt that seemed to be born of resignation more than anything else, he pulled the car over to the pavement.

Korolev watched his colleague walk away and was pleased that he didn’t look back as he did so. Then he turned his attention to the occupants of the Emka. They’d pulled in, not more than twenty meters back, and were sitting there-looking at him. The plump one smiled and touched a finger to his forehead in salute.