especially for a militiaman. It's a story worth hearing. A couple of years ago, Grushko was selected as the Central Board of Leningrad's delegate to the 22nd Party Congress. He announced his resignation from the Party while making a speech from the lectern. It caused quite a stink at the time, I can tell you. After that about half of the detectives and investigators in the Central Board left the Party, including General Kornilov. These days it's split pretty evenly down the middle between those who support Yeltsin and those who support the old Party. That's your Grushko.'
What about at home?'
He lives quite modestly really. He's married, with a daughter who's the apple of his eye. Any spare money he's ever had he spent putting his daughter through med. school. She's now a doctor at one of the big hospitals here in Peter.'
A sociable man, would you say? I only ask because I don't want to be a nuisance to him if I can help it. But if he's the affable type then it won't matter.'
I wouldn't call Grushko sociable, no. But he's straight with you. He likes a drink and although I've seen him drink a lot I've never yet seen him drunk. Oh yes, and Pasternak: he loves Pasternak.'
At the Big House Grushko was not to be found. Nor were Nikolai and Sasha. In the office they shared with two other detectives I found a younger officer, working his way through Mikhail Milyukin's Filofax, telephoning every name and number that was written there. Replacing the phone he stood up and introduced himself.
Lieutenant Andrei Petrov, sir,' he said, shaking my hand. Better dressed than most of the men working for Grushko, Petrov was another of these blond-haired northern Russians. And this ' he nodded across the desk at a man who was playing idly with an automatic. The man stood up and extended me his hand this is Lieutenant Alek Svridigailov one of your investigators.'
Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant.'
Svridigailov was smaller than Petrov and as wiry as a pipe-cleaner. He had the lugubrious face of an undernourished bloodhound.
Glock semi-automatic,' he said, explaining the gun. Made in Austria. Fires thirteen rounds of .45 ACP-calibre ammunition. Better than anything we've got. You see, there are only thirty-five parts. A real quality weapon. I'd love a gun like this. They took it off some Yakut hood. Can you believe that? You wouldn't think one of those bastards would be intelligent enough to get himself a gun like this, would you?'
Andrei Petrov chuckled. You know what they say about those Yakuts? The only reason they don't eat cucumbers is because they can't get their heads in the jars.'
Svridigailov looked at Andrei and then back at me, shaking his head as if to apologise for his colleague.
Grushko's gone to the TV station,' Andrei explained. He's recording Georgi Zverkov's show. And as for Nikolai and Sasha' He frowned as he tried to remember where they had gone.
I sat down at Nikolai's desk and glanced over what was on it.
Doesn't he keep a diary?' I asked. It occurred to me that I might make a note of some of Nikolai's contacts.
Andrei nodded at the safe beside Nikolai's desk.
I expect he's got it locked up,' he said.
I remember,' said Svridigailov. They went to the Pribaltskaya Hotel. To see some Georgians.'
Opened for the 1980 Olympic Games, the Pribaltskaya Hotel stands on the western edge of Vasilyevsky Island, looking out across the Bay of Finland. Triptych-shaped, with seventeen floors and 1,200 rooms, it is one of the biggest hotels in the city and although the citizens of St Petersburg were forbidden to use it, the hotel's swimming pool, sauna, bowling alley, gymnasium and massage parlour not to mention the five bars, the five restaurants and the fifteen coffee shops made it very popular with some of the more nefarious elements of local society. The methods of the Mafia required strong arms to implement them and, like most racketeers, the Georgians liked to work out and use the weights at least once a day. From years of strict regime in the zone, many of them had physiques that would have been the envy of any Olympic athlete, and in their expensive designer track-suits and gold necklaces they would have been easily distinguished from any other people who dared to use the gym at the same time. The gang leader was a swarthy-faced tough called Dzhumber Gankrelidze and he and his lieutenant, Oocho, seemed to be wearing more gold than the rest of the gang put together. These two were among those exercising in the Pribaltskaya gym with a couple of heavies watching the door when Nikolai and Sasha presented their IDs.
It's all right,' said Dzhumber, wiping his hairy neck with a towel. I think these dogs are here to bark, not bite.'
Nikolai pushed the man obstructing his path to one side.
Who's he? Your secretary?'
Dzhumber Gankrelidze grinned, showing off a status-enhancing gold tooth.
Yeah,' he said, I get him to take some dictation now and again.'
Oocho laughed and continued to work on his grapefruit-sized biceps.
I bet you do,' said Nikolai. What's his shorthand? Twenty rounds a minute?'
You're good,' said Gankrelidze smiling. You should be in the cabaret upstairs.'
I'm fussy about who I entertain,' said Nikolai.
Gankrelidze kept on smiling. He was used to police harassment. Sasha dipped his head to read the label on one of the Georgians' track-suits.
Sergio Tacchini,' he said. Very nice. Quite the lifestyle you boys have here.'
You know what they say,' said Oocho. He who sits near the pot eats the most kasha.'
I guess you're sitting close enough at that,' Nikolai observed. All those cash-cows in the lobby. Business looks pretty good.'
Pick a girl and tell her I sent you,' Gankrelidze said nonchalantly. It'll be my little treat. Your friend too. I like to see the militia enjoying themselves.'
That's the thing I like about you Georgians,' said Nikolai. You're very generous with your mothers and your sisters.'
Gankrelidze stopped smiling and picked up a dumbbell. He began to pull it towards his big shoulder.
What do you want?' he said evenly.
I've got Georgia on my mind,' said Nikolai. Specifically the late Vaja Ordzhonikidze. Let's start with where you all were the night before last. And don't blow me any smoke rings either. Not five copecks'-worth. You don't have to work for Russian intelligence to decode the way Vaja took his wooden pea-jacket. Someone thought he was a pincher.
Gankrelidze dropped the weight on to the mat and stood up. He was strong, but shorter than Nikolai by about a head.
You know, normally I don't talk to strangers. But youyou've got a kind face. Me and the boys here spent the whole evening in the restaurant upstairs. Isn't that so, boys?'
There was a murmur of general agreement.
You don't believe me, you ask your dogs on the front door. They saw us when we arrived at about eight; and when we left again around three.'
No doubt they've had their paws well stroked,' sniffed Nikolai.
Oocho laughed and shook his head. Yeah, well, you hear all sorts of terrible rumours about this city's militia.'
The rest of the gang thought that this was very funny.
So how about this rumour that Vaja was a pincher?' said Nikolai. That it was his own side that killed him: because he was an informant for Mikhail Milyukin.'
There are people who drink their own urine,' said Gankrelidze, and people who put hot jars on their backs, because they think that it's good for them. But that doesn't make it true. You're looking at the wrong cat, my friend.'
Gankrelidze picked up his towel and wiped his face.
I tell you what I'll do,' he said. I'll give you an invitation to Vaja's funeral. We're giving him a real Georgian send-off. Now does that sound like we thought he was a pincher?'
Nikolai lit a cigarette as he considered Gankrelidze's argument for a moment.
Did Vaja like watches?'
