‘It looks like it could be one of ours,’ she said, peering down at it. ‘Easily checked, though. It will have a serial number and there’ll be a record.’
‘Well, let’s see what we can find out about it.’
It looked as if the dead man had been kneeling when he’d died, and the body had fallen forwards and onto its side. Korolev mimicked holding a pistol behind his head to see if suicide was even remotely possible.
‘Don’t do it, Alexei Dmitriyevich. The case isn’t over yet,’ Slivka said in a dry tone. He almost smiled, putting his hands back in his pockets and looking again at the corpse. Snow covered parts of the body, and more had gathered along the dead man’s side where the wind had pushed it.
‘Time of death, Slivka, that’s what we’re looking for,’ Korolev said as the border guard captain returned. ‘Comrade Captain, when did it stop snowing? He obviously died before then. And there’s snow on the truck as well.’
‘I’m not sure. Before six anyway, it hasn’t snowed since I started on duty. I’ll check with the sentries at the nearest control point.’
‘I’d be grateful.’ Korolev glanced across the field towards the church. There were tracks in the snow here and there.
‘There were no tracks around the truck when we found it,’ the captain said, as if anticipating his thoughts. ‘They were the first thing I looked for.’
Korolev nodded and turned to Slivka.
‘Stay here with the body until Dr Peskov and the forensics boys arrive. Don’t let Firtov and the Greek start till Dr Peskov has had a good look and, likewise, don’t let Peskov take the body away until they’ve done their work. We’ll need a proper autopsy done in Odessa, but ask him for his preliminary impressions.’
‘Of course, Chief.’
‘And show Lenskaya’s photograph around – see if any of these border guards recognize her. Or Andreychuk for that matter. Someone must have seen them when they visited last week.’
Slivka nodded and he put a hand on her arm for a moment by way of thanks.
‘Comrade Captain.’ Korolev turned to address the border guard officer. ‘Have you tracking dogs nearby?’
‘I can have some here within thirty minutes,’ he said, curiosity narrowing his eyes.
‘I’d like to see if they could trace the dead man’s steps from the church. Just to make certain. And to see if he was alone when he arrived, or if he brought his killer with him.’
‘We’ll see what we can do.’
‘Thank you, Comrade.’
Korolev took the keys to the car from Slivka and walked back across the field towards the church, wondering what Lomatkin would have to say about Andreychuk’s escape from the station and his death beside the Dnester with a bullet in the back of his neck.
It didn’t take Korolev long to drive to Krasnogorka, and any concerns he’d had about tracking his quarries down were soon allayed – Lomatkin and Babel’s car was parked beside a border guard checkpoint just before the road entered the town. They looked round as he approached and Korolev was not surprised to detect anger in Lomatkin’s animated reaction. Damned Korolev this, damned Korolev that, he didn’t doubt. They were probably half-frozen by now – come to think of it, he wasn’t that warm himself after walking around graveyards and fields.
‘Captain Korolev, Militia CID.’ He held up his identification card for the border guard sergeant to inspect. ‘You’re detaining those two for me.’
‘We are. That Lomatkin fellow has been threatening all sorts, Comrade Captain.’
‘We’ll see about that. Have you somewhere I can talk to them?’
‘There’s the barracks in town.’
Korolev considered the offer and then decided to interrogate Lomatkin in the car. It would be quicker.
‘I’ll speak to them here,’ he replied. ‘Could you bring Citizen Lomatkin over first? Let me see if I can’t calm him down.’
When summoned, the journalist approached the car with his bottom lip pouting like a stubborn child’s. Korolev produced his notebook and wet the graphite tip of his pencil with his tongue as Lomatkin settled himself into the passenger seat.
‘What the hell is all this about, Korolev? You’re sabotaging vital work – I have to file a piece for Izvestia by this evening and that’s not looking likely now, is it?’
Korolev wrote the time and date at the top of the open page, allowing his pencil to linger over each letter.
‘Well, come on – out with it. Why have you detained us?’
Korolev did his best to look surprised.
‘Why do you think I had you detained? We all have vital work to do, Citizen Lomatkin. And orders to follow.’
‘Are you making fun of me? We’re held here with no explanation and then you just happen to drive past? Of course you’re responsible for this.’
‘You think I can boss border guards around? A simple Militia captain from Moscow giving that lot orders? It doesn’t work that way, Lomatkin. You should know that. I could ask them, certainly – but would they comply? Difficult to say.’
The journalist’s petulant look began to be tempered with unease.
‘Comrade Ezhov could order them, I expect,’ Korolev added, taking a cigarette from his pocket. ‘They report to him, of course. All of them. This particular platoon, I suppose, would have to go through a few layers of command, but eventually they most certainly do report to Comrade Ezhov. Yes, I expect Comrade Ezhov could order them to do just about anything he wanted them to do, and then it would happen as day follows night. And as we both know, he was very fond of Masha Lenskaya.’
Korolev struck a match for his cigarette and the flare splashed Lomatkin’s pale face with yellow light. The journalist had the look of a man concentrating very hard.
‘What do you want, Korolev?’
‘Well, for a start, you might explain why you saw fit to ignore my instructions not to leave the filmset.’
‘You never gave me such instructions. You told me not to leave tomorrow for Sebastopol, but this is a short trip. I’d have been back at the house by now if you – if someone – hadn’t delayed things.’
‘My instructions were clear, Lomatkin. You’re a suspect and you stay where I tell you to until I say otherwise.’
It wasn’t the first time Korolev had found his temper bubbling up since he’d got off the plane from Moscow, but this time he felt it boiling over.
‘I’m a suspect? But I was in Moscow, Korolev. It simply isn’t possible that I could be responsible for her death.’
‘I don’t care if you were on the moon, Lomatkin. You were her lover, you’ve told me you wanted to marry her, you have, let us say, a dubious background and she was sleeping with other men. So maybe you didn’t kill Lenskaya yourself, fair enough – but you could have conspired with someone else to do it, or paid them. I don’t know which, but I don’t want you skipping over the border before I’ve found out.’
‘What do you mean?’ Lomatkin protested. ‘What dubious background? I’m a Party member, Korolev. And you’d do well to remember it.’
‘A Party member, is it? I doubt you bring up your cocaine addiction in any Party meetings, do you? And I’m guessing the bosses at Izvestia don’t know about it either.’
‘Cocaine?’ Lomatkin’s voice rose to a shrill pitch. ‘I’m not addicted to cocaine. Are you mad?’
‘So you just took it from time to time, is that right?’
‘I don’t know what you mean…’ The journalist dragged out each word, but it wasn’t Korolev’s job to be giving Lomatkin time to think.
‘What? You’ve forgotten all those games of billiards with those Thief friends of yours? They’ve slipped your memory as well, have they?’ Korolev was filling in a bit of detail but, to judge from Lomatkin’s shocked expression, he wasn’t too far off the mark.
‘Those are gross exaggerations – as a journalist sometimes I have to-’ But Korolev held up a hand to stop
