Anna was dying to know. She did not ask.
Olga looked at Anna, but her question was for Borovsky. ‘May I?’
‘Of course,’ he said.
The curator motioned Anna forward, pointing through the magnifier. ‘See the outlines within the indentation?’ Through the glass Anna saw what seemed to be an etching in the felt of the hollow box. ‘It’s unique, like a fingerprint,’ Olga said. ‘Romanian, gold, first-series leu, twenty lei, 1868.’ There was a moment of appreciative silence before she looked up through the magnifying glass at Borovsky’s wide eyes. ‘Where did you get this?’
Borovsky took the box back and spoke before Anna could answer. ‘I’m sorry, that’s privileged information.’
‘Ah!’ Olga exclaimed. ‘That means we are done.’ She added sadly, ‘I should have taken more time. When will we see you again?’
‘Sooner than you think,’ he said cryptically. ‘Come, Sergeant. We have work to do.’
Anna was about to follow when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned to see Olga looking at her with a concerned expression. ‘Look after him, will you? He likes to think he’s younger than he is.’
Anna placed her hand on Olga’s and nodded more reassuringly than she felt. When she went through the outer office, she noted that Natalia also looked concerned at the speed of Borovsky’s departure and the brevity of his farewell.
Anna caught up with him in the middle of the Black Sea exhibit. It showcased ancient sculptures, vases, urns, and other artifacts — some dating back as far as the fourth century BC — that had been recovered by the museum’s staff. But Anna remained silent despite the questions that had started to pile up like the coins on Olga’s desk.
As they neared the front door, he said suddenly, ‘I want to thank you for your assistance, Sergeant. I will no longer require your services on this matter. You may take the car and report back to your station, discussing it with no one.’
Anna felt as if she had been punched in the gut. During their walk she had noticed the change in him, but she attributed it to contemplation. Something had set Borovsky off. His gentle humor and paternal guidance had evaporated —
As his subordinate, she knew she should do as ordered. For one reason or another, he didn’t want her help any more. In the past, she would have nodded and gone back to the station. But the new Anna wasn’t going to do that. She was going to risk a big toss of the net.
‘No, sir,’ she said.
‘Thank you-’
‘I mean, “no sir” as in, “I’m not going.”’
He stopped. ‘You forget yourself.’
She stopped. ‘Quite intentionally, yes. I believe you still require my services.’
Now surrounded by stone and wooden sarcophaguses, statues, papyri, vessels, amulets, and stone hieroglyphic friezes, Borovsky’s stern face softened. ‘Go back to your daughter, Anna. Keep her safe. Make her happy. Raise her well.’
He walked away.
She caught up to him again outside. He was looking across the street at the church and the Moscow River beyond. ‘How can I do that, sir, if I can’t say to her, “I did what was right, not what was ordered”?’
She saw regret, then admiration and appreciation fill his features, before he once again settled into the Viktor Borovsky she had come to know.
He nodded his approval. ‘You are right. A philosophy that is irrefutable.’
That made her smile.
‘Come then,’ he said, ‘we must hurry.’
‘Where to?’ she asked as they hustled to the car.
His answer caught her by surprise.
41
Pavel Dvorkin knew this city well, almost as well as his native Moscow. Since joining the Black Robes a decade ago, he had made hundreds of trips to the capital city of Kazan — trips he
Not after his failed mission at the rail yard.
Dressed in the high-collared black tunic, black pants, black boots, and specially tailored jacket of his sect, Dvorkin noted the eyes of those pedestrians passing him on the bright, sunny street. By now his presence on the streets of Kazan was a familiar sight to many. In them he sensed respect and envy, but also concern. That was only right. That was only fair. They had a reason to be scared. He had served his masters for many years, and he had served them well. That was obvious in his bearing and expression, as well as his clothing.
The design of their uniform was truly inspired. Had they donned the long, skirted garment that had served as their wardrobe’s inspiration, they would have been seen as pale imitations of the original. But in this modern version of the traditional garb, they were able to declare their allegiance without words, as well as mark themselves as a group to be reckoned with.
Dvorkin was proud to be a member of the Black Robes. Gone was the stench of the
He had just turned eighteen and had spent his young life preparing for his eventual acceptance into its ranks. He had joined the Communist Party as soon as they had allowed him to and had joined the Party’s security agency shortly thereafter. With the mighty Vladimir Kryuchkov at the helm of the KGB, there was the promise of an even more powerful agency, one in which Dvorkin would’ve had an important role. But somehow that dream never happened.
By the end of the 1980s, head of state Mikhail Gorbachev launched radical reforms that led to national instability. Naturally Kryuchkov wanted to hold the country together. He gathered all his newest, strongest agents, Dvorkin included, for a coup in 1991. But Gorbachev turned Kryuchkov’s solid ground to sand — and he did it brilliantly. Instead of cracking down on Kryuchkov and his followers, he left them alone. Because Kryuchkov did not have a reason to complain to the Communist Party, the Party would not give him the authority to retaliate, and that led to the smoldering destruction of the KGB.
In 1991, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics formally dissolved. The KGB was quickly divided into several weaker organizations, all under the direct control of the new Russia — and make no mistake about it: the new Russia was
Pavel Dvorkin, like so many others, was set adrift.
For a time, he took jobs that suited his temperament and training. A shakedown here, a robbery there — until one day in 2002 when he was asked to obtain incriminating evidence against a high-ranking member of the Politburo. Dvorkin did more than find it; he
Some of his fellow congregants were perplexed by their presence in Kazan. Why not work out of Tiumen Oblast, Siberia — once known as Pokrovskoe — where their master had been born? Or what about St Petersburg, where their master had healed Prince Alexi of hemophilia and brought royal-lady-in-waiting Anya Vyrubova out of a coma after a train wreck?
Instead, their leader had chosen Kazan as their headquarters, a place where their master had lived in 1902 and had begun gathering his first disciples. Known as the ‘third capital of Russia’, Kazan was a splendid, sprawling city at the juncture of the Kazanka and Volga Rivers. Thanks to the diverse, ever-growing population, the town was
