‘Well, they did for you anyway. Tell me who it was. That you owe them nothing is certain.’
‘They did for me? No, Korolev, you and that damned gun of yours did for me.’
‘I didn’t put you in this hole, Gradov, believe me. Others were responsible for that and you’ll give me their names if you have any sense.’
‘Don’t waste your time, Korolev.’
‘It was Mushkin, wasn’t it? He’s the link. He knew about you and he knew about Andreychuk – he even made sure you weren’t disciplined when you lost your gun.’
The sergeant didn’t say anything, but Korolev caught the ghost of a smile before the wounded man looked away and spat. Then there was the sound of someone approaching from the passageway behind him, picking his way amongst the bodies, and he turned to see Kolya, the Thief’s face taking on a sudden look of anger in the half- light given off by the torch. Korolev didn’t even have time to open his mouth before the pistol in Kolya’s hand fired twice, each blast like a punch that pushed him backwards.
‘What the…’ Korolev began to say before his feet slipped on someone or something, and he tumbled backwards onto the sprawl of bodies, all the time waiting for the pain of the bullets.
‘Did he hit you?’ Kolya asked, before answering his own question. ‘No, he couldn’t have. What happened to you, then?’
‘What do you mean, “What happened to you?” ’ Korolev began indignantly, before he realized he hadn’t in fact been shot. He was still holding the torch and, pointing it at Gradov, he saw that a neat round hole had appeared in the centre of the sergeant’s forehead. He lowered the beam of the torch and saw a small automatic in the dead sergeant’s good hand, before turning it back to the newly minted bullet wound.
‘Nice shot,’ he said reluctantly.
‘He pulled on you when you turned your back.’
Korolev got to his feet, using the stock of his machine gun to lever himself upwards. The embarrassment and anger he felt at having made such a stupid mistake was one thing, but to have been helped out of the consequences by Count Kolya – well, that was another thing altogether. He thanked the Lord that the darkness gave him the opportunity to marshal what little dignity might be left to him.
‘You took your time – we had them coming at us from all sides while you dawdled along.’
‘So I can see. That gun of yours dealt with them, though. Was the grenade yours or theirs?’
‘Theirs. Did you get them all?’
‘We missed one or two – things were confused in the dark. Slivka and Mishka sent them running, but Fox’s men weren’t ready for them. We lost a couple of ours in the tunnel, and a couple of them got past – but you have your guns all the same and the battle’s won.’
Korolev looked at Gradov. Six dead here, then. One in the next room, three in the chamber with the guns. Two of Kolya’s men and on top of that however many of the gunrunners who had been killed in the tunnels trying to escape. As quick and bloody an evening’s work as he’d ever heard of.
‘I hope it was all worth it.’
‘I’d say it was worth it, Korolev. They wouldn’t have been able to keep their fingers from the triggers of that weaponry, and they wouldn’t have been shooting at crows with them either.’
But Korolev was just a bit too old for all this killing and that was the truth. He’d never been much good at it, if he was honest, but he’d done what was asked of him.
‘Are you all right, Chief?’ Slivka asked as he emerged into the relative light of the big chamber. She looked at his forehead with a frown, and Korolev remembered the graze he’d picked up during the shooting and lifted a hand to wipe away the blood.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, surprised by how much blood there was – his fingers were red with the stuff and he dragged them down the wall to clean some of it off. ‘We need to think what to do with these guns, Slivka. And these bandits for that matter. Greek,’ he said, turning to the doughty forensics man, ‘can you find your way out of here?’
The Greek nodded.
‘And back as well?’
The Greek nodded again.
‘I need you to get above with the prisoners. Slivka, you’ll go with him. Get our men down here as soon as possible. If a couple of them managed to get free, they might chance it and come back – so time is important. If you’re not sure of the way, Kolya will lend you his guide.’
But Kolya shook his head when Korolev looked to him for confirmation.
‘That can’t be, Korolev. We worked together on this job because we had good reasons to – to go after these rats who were killing ours. But if I sent Mole with you, that would be something else again.’
The other Thieves nodded their agreement, and Korolev understood. The Thieves’ code forbade them helping the Militia or any other representative of the State. Not for the first time Kolya had bent those rules when it came to Korolev, but the justification for it this time no longer existed.
‘Don’t worry, Korolev,’ Kolya said, as if reading his thoughts. ‘We’ll keep to our part of the deal.’
‘Come back as soon as you can,’ Korolev instructed the Greek, who nodded, looking deliberately at each of the Thieves as if to remember their faces. Korolev shared his concern, but he wasn’t about to admit it.
‘You’d best be off before our people arrive,’ Korolev said, as his colleagues and the prisoners left. All the Thieves’ eyes were on him now, and they seemed to be waiting for something. Mishka had that slanting smile of his that boded no good and Korolev found that his hand had slid under the belly of his machine gun of its own accord and that he was pleased to feel the cold metal of the trigger against his forefinger.
‘Yes, we’ll be off soon enough,’ Kolya agreed, leaving something unsaid – as if he were considering how to broach an awkward subject.
‘Off you go, then,’ Korolev said, moving backwards to lean against the nearest wall. He tried to do it nonchalantly, but it seemed he’d convinced few of his audience, and certainly not Mishka, whose smile broadened as he opened that hand cannon of his and discarded the empty brass bullet casings, dropping each one theatrically to the ground, where they bounced and rolled, and then filling the chambers left vacant with live bullets extracted from the pocket of his jacket.
‘We have something we need to take with us, Korolev,’ Kolya said eventually. Polite, but firm. Well, Korolev thought, bracing himself – at least the others were clear of this now, with luck.
‘I thought we had a deal, Kolya. Those guns are going nowhere.’
‘Not the guns, Korolev. The leather suitcases over there in the corner, I think. The guns you can keep.’
Korolev saw the two bags he was talking about. Battered brown leather. No distinguishing marks. He looked round at Kolya’s men and saw that there wasn’t one of them didn’t have a gun in his hand. And the truth of it was if he tried to stop them, it wouldn’t make a difference. He’d done well to make it this far into the night, and there was a long way to go till morning.
‘What’s in them?’
‘Money. You can’t start a revolution with bullets alone.’
Korolev nodded, looked around him at the determined faces and nodded once again.
‘What bags?’ he asked, when his mind was made up.
‘That’s very reasonable of you, Alexei Dmitriyevich,’ Kolya said.
‘I’m a reasonable man, and I have more important things to do this evening than worry about a couple of bags I never saw.’
‘Mishka, Fox?’ Kolya said, turning his head slightly to speak over his shoulder. ‘Take a hold of those things and let’s be on our way.’
When Mishka and Fox had the bags in their hands, the Chief Authority of the Thieves of Moscow raised a finger to his forehead and saluted Korolev, then followed his men down the far tunnel.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Korolev looked at his watch – ten minutes past nine – and sat down on one of the wooden crates, wondering how the hell he’d got into such a situation. It was unheard of, really. Maybe in Chicago the gangsters had shoot-
