‘Truth cannot enter a closed mind,’ Borovsky said. ‘Old Russian proverb.’
Anna looked at the attendant and motioned with her head for him to leave the morgue immediately. He did so without pause. When she looked back at her superior, he was examining every inch of the corpse.
‘Upstairs,’ Borovsky said flatly, ‘you stated that the theory of this case was a consensus of your fellow investigators. Is that true?’
When no answer came, Borovsky glanced at Anna, who was trying to figure out the best way to respond. ‘It’s a simple question,’ he said.
‘True, sir,’ she replied with obvious reluctance.
Borovsky nodded. ‘We were taught as young children that religion is the opiate of the masses. However, I put it to you that lies are the true opiate. Repetition makes them seem real — just like religion. In this instance, the obvious solution takes on the mantle of truth and ruins an objective investigation. True?’
‘True,’ she said immediately.
He made his way to the ruined skull. ‘Who do you think was the last man standing?’
‘We are still canvassing residents, sir, gathering infor-’
‘
Anna exhaled, drew herself up, and tried to toe the station line. ‘My investigators suspect that the officers were attacked when they asked the skinheads to depart the area.’
‘Couldn’t the officers have demanded money? I understand there was cash in their hands.’
Somewhat embarrassed, she said, ‘We believe it came from a meeting, perhaps a chance meeting, with a motorist moments before.’
‘A bribe,’ Borovsky clarified. ‘Money for them to look the other way.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Could the motorist not have been there still when the skinheads arrived?’
‘It’s possible,’ she agreed, ‘but we cannot track a hypothetical car since the officers did not report a traffic offense.’
‘Fair enough,’ Borovsky agreed. ‘But if a bribe did occur, perhaps the skinheads witnessed the transaction. If so, perhaps the officers attacked them to keep them quiet.’
‘It is possible,’ she admitted.
‘What else have your investigators suggested?’
She continued with reluctance. ‘They believe the attackers succeeded in downing our officers before succumbing to their own wounds — wounds inflicted by Privates Gelb and Klopov in a vigorous attempt to defend themselves.’
Borovsky frowned at their conclusion. ‘The skinheads had broken skulls and, in one case, a broken arm. What do you think our comrades used to accomplish that? Their fists?’
She opened her mouth to paraphrase the investigators, then closed it again. ‘I couldn’t say for sure, comrade Colonel. I honestly don’t know.’
Borovsky looked at her with satisfaction. Then with the hint of a smile, he quoted another proverb. ‘There is no shame in not knowing. The shame lies in not finding out.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Tell me,’ he said as he returned his focus to the victim. ‘What sorts of weapons were used in this attack?’
Anna straightened, relieved to report facts rather than theories. ‘We found metal pipes, an AK-47 bayonet, and a large, jagged piece of masonry. All with blood residue.’
Borovsky motioned for her to come over. She did so without hesitation.
‘What do you think made this head wound?’ he asked, pointing at the jagged hole in Kadurik’s skull. ‘The rock, the knife, or the pipes?’
Anna examined the wound carefully. ‘It is too wide for the pipes or the knife.’ She paused to think, looking at it from every angle. ‘Yet the depression is too uniform for the masonry.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice.’
‘Russian proverb?’ she asked with a weary smile.
‘Anton Chekhov,’ he replied. ‘Continue.’
‘Now that I see it, I don’t think this wound was made by any of the weapons we found at the crime scene,’ she said.
‘Then we have a missing weapon,’ he said.
‘Yes, comrade Colonel, I believe we do.’
‘And when there’s a missing weapon, there’s a missing suspect.’ Borovsky straightened to his full height. ‘Perhaps the last man standing — is
She nodded, impressed. Multiple investigators had examined the body, yet Borovsky had proven their theories incorrect in a matter of seconds.
‘Comrade Rusinko, please take me to the crime scene.’
Anna drove Colonel Borovsky to the crime scene in an unmarked sedan. They conducted an exhaustive search outside before they asked the building manager to let them into Andrei Dobrev’s apartment. At first, there was a fleeting moment of dread when they grasped the extent of his massive collection of railway memorabilia and equipment, but then Borovsky grinned with anticipation and snapped on the plastic gloves he had pulled from his jacket pocket.
It was obvious he loved a challenge, and so did she. She always had rubber gloves as well, and she joined him as they started going through every box, file, shelf, book, album, picture frame, and nook. What they were looking for was unspoken, but obvious. It was the weapon, or anything that might lead them to comprehend what had happened on the street outside.
For that, no words were needed.
After nearly an hour in which they rarely spoke, Anna broke the silence. ‘Comrade Colonel, I think I may have found something.’
He withdrew his head from a low, dusty bookcase, happy for the break. He approached the policewoman, who was holding a velvet-lined rectangular box.
‘Or,’ she said, ‘to be more accurate, I have found
She opened the box to reveal that it was empty. But he understood. The box had clearly held something precious, and it was just about the only thing they could not find amongst the piles of maps, charts, books, plans, and paraphernalia.
Anna obviously didn’t think that this small box had housed a weapon large enough to inflict the wound that had killed Marko Kadurik, but from Borovsky’s reaction, she knew she had hit on something potentially significant. He stood, fascinated, his finger slowly and carefully following the small, circular indentation in the red padding.
‘A medal?’ she suggested.
‘Medals typically use cheap, lightweight metal. This was heavier. A coin, perhaps.’ He leaned closer, angling the box toward the light. ‘A coin that Dobrev felt was special.’
‘Do you think Gelb or Klopov might have taken it?’
‘You interviewed the occupants of this building. Did anyone mention the police searching any apartments?’
She shook her head. ‘Perhaps they were afraid.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘In any group there is always one who destroys the silence of the others, one who has integrity. If the officers had entered, someone would have mentioned that.’
‘Some people on this floor reported footsteps and loud words in the hallway. We thought it might be the skinheads, calling on Kadurik.’
‘Our men searched the clothes and bodies of the victims?’
‘Thoroughly,’ she assured him. ‘There was no coin or medal or small memento of this kind. I read the itemized list.’
They stood silently for a few moments. Anna watched him think, but she couldn’t read the parade of
