wood. Colorful rugs hung on the walls and the combination living-dining-work room was furnished in solid, dark wooden furniture. Wooden cabinets lined the walls except for one floor-to-ceiling bookcase. A broad worktable covered with odd-looking pieces of metal and glass stood at the rear of the room near a floor-to-ceiling window beyond which stood two similar houses; beyond stood the forest.
'I'll get the tea,' Galich said putting Rostnikov's jacket, hat, scarf and gloves on a nearby heavy chair. 'Look around if you like.'
Galich disappeared to the right behind a stairway and Rostnikov wandered toward the worktable. As he approached he could see that the various items upon it included a ceramic pot filled with unfamiliar coins, a rusted and very ancient rifle, several cracked pots and something that looked like a door hinge. He was reaching for the door hinge when he heard the deep voice of Galich behind him.
'That was on two pieces of wood I found less than a week ago near the river,' he said handing Rostnikov a steaming mug.
'What is it?'
'I don't know,' said Galich picking it up with his free hand, turning it over. 'But I'll figure it out. The books,' he said nodding at the nearby shelf, 'will help me. Usually I spend the winter working on the pieces I find in the summer. It is rare that I'll actually pick up an artifact in the winter but the new hydroelectric plant north on the Yensei has shifted the river bed slightly. All up and down the river for over a thousand miles hydroelectric plants are going up. There are over twenty-five of them now. Here, look at this piece.'
Galich took a quick sip of hot liquid and reached for the rusted rifle. He picked it up in one large hand and handed it to Rostnikov. It was surprisingly heavy.
'Probably sixteenth century, maybe a bit earlier,' said Galich taking the rifle back. 'Could have belonged to one of Ermak's cossack's, maybe Ermak himself. It could be. This area is a treasure of history. I've found pieces that date back to Khan. But most of what I find date back to the late 1500s. There was an ostrog, a cossack fort, not more than four hundred feet from here, overlooking the river.'
'Fascinating,' said Rostnikov.
'The cabinets are filled with pieces,' Galich said with pride. 'I'm cataloging, organizing. In three, possibly four years I'll have a major museum exhibit ready with a series of monographs covering the history of the upper Yensei.'
'The tea is very good,' said Rostnikov moving to one of the straight-backed chairs.
'Indian, imported. My one vice,' said Galich amiably, sitting opposite Rostnikov on an almost identical chair. 'To what do I owe the honor of being first on your list this morning?'
'How did you know you were first?'
Galich laughed and shook his head.
'Visitors are major events in Tumsk,' he explained. 'I'm sure that everyone in the village was up early looking out the window, waiting for you or the one who doesn't blink.'
'I started with you because Famfanoff said he was staying here,' Rostnikov said. 'Is he up? I need some information from him.'
'He sleeps deeply,' said Galich looking up toward the ceiling. 'We can rouse him later. Perhaps I could help you.'
'I also started with you because I am looking for weight-lifting equipment I can use, a few weights will be fine.'
'No difficulty,' said Galich beaming. 'I have a small but adequate supply of weights left by a naval officer a few years ago. I can show them to you later.'
'I would be very grateful,' said Rostnikov, finishing his tea.
'More tea?' asked Galich, jumping up to reach for the policeman's empty cup.
'No, thank you. Questions.'
Galich nodded.
'You are a priest?'
'I was a priest, Russian Orthodox Church,' said Galich. 'Surely your records contain this information.'
'I like to listen,' said Rostnikov, sitting back and folding his hands in his lap. 'Why did you leave the church?'
Galich shrugged. 'Crisis of faith. No, actually there was no crisis of faith. It was a question of too much passion. I simply accepted one morning when I was about to go to the church that I had never had any real faith, that I had endured the church because my family had always been leaders in the church back in Suzdal. The oddity is that had it not been for the Revolution, the Party, I would have left the church as a young man. I said things, did things even then that did not fit the image of the contemplative priest. I persisted, entered the priesthood because I didn't want to be considered a coward. Ironic, isn't it? I convinced myself that I believed but I knew that I could not reject the church because my family, the congregants, would think I was afraid of the Party.'
'But you did quit,' Rostnikov said.
'I did.'
'Why?'
'I became sixty years old and stopped worrying about what others thought. Sometimes I think I waited too long. I have much work to do here and probably not enough time to get it done. But I'm babbling. I think you'll find many of us in Tumsk will babble. We are not accustomed to outsiders and we sometimes grow tired of each other's company. You want to talk about the Samsonov child?'
'About Commissar Rutkin,' corrected Rostnikov. 'He spoke to you.'
'Several times. Would you like some pickled vegetables while we talk?'
'No, thank you. What did he ask you?'
'Commissar Rutkin? He asked where I was the day the Samsonov child died. What I did. What I saw. What I thought.'
'And you told him…?'
'I told him,' said Galich, 'that I spent most of the day at the river. I have a very passable twelfth-century Mongol cup I found that day. It's in the cabinet behind you. I saw no one from town. And what did I think? I thought the child's death was an accident. I cannot imagine anyone would harm her. Why would they?'
'Because of her father, perhaps,' said Rostnikov.
'Inspector, what monster would kill a child to punish the father?' Galich shook his head. 'And for what? This is a town of exiles. A dissident is nothing new here. I am a voluntary exile. So is General Krasnikov. Most of us here, except for the sailors, are out of favor with the Party.'
'Yet the child is dead and monsters do exist,' said Rostnikov.
'Of a sort,' agreed Galich with a sad shrug. 'I am well aware of our history. Perhaps that is why I am trying to retrieve some of the more distant and possibly more colorful parts worth remembering. Am I talking treason?'
'Reason,' said Rostnikov. 'And the day Commissar Rutkin died? You were?'
'Famfanoff said it was early that morning. I was in here, certainly not up yet. It must have happened before the sailors plowed the square or else everyone would have seen the body. I don't even know who discovered Commissar Rutkin's corpse.'
'It was Samsonov,' said Rostnikov. 'There was to be a hearing at the People's Hall of Justice and Solidarity on the child's death. Samsonov wanted to get there early.'
'I think, if you want my opinion,' said Galich, 'Samsonov is making all this fuss not only out of grief but of guilt. He was forced to bring his wife and child here because of his politics. And this is not a place for a child. The girl was here for a year with no other children. She didn't even go to the school in Agapitovo. She spent a lot of time here with me and my collection,' he said looking around the room. 'I knew about the hearing, of course, but I… what can one say? I can't say I liked your Commissar Rutkin, but I didn't dislike him, either. Rutkin was… self- interested. The child's death did not seem to touch him.'
,
'And no one came into conflict with him, argued with him,' Rostnikov tried.
Galich hesitated, rose and opened his broad hands palm up as if he were about to deliver a sermon.
'Samsonov,' Galich said. 'I'm sure you know that. He was outspoken and quite bitter. He quite openly declared that the government had purposely sent an incompetent to conduct the investigation so the truth would
