and back. He found none. That didn't mean there were none, only that they were not in the most dangerous, most obvious places.
Tkach leaned over, touched Zelach's chest, detected beating, and then put the back of his right hand less than an inch below Zelach's nose. He was sure, at least he hoped, that the fine hairs on his hand moved with the faintness of the fallen man's breath.
'Arkady,' Sasha whispered, 'eeveenee't'e, pazhah-a 'Ista. Please forgive me.'
Tkach's next instinct was to call for help, but he was sure no one would come running to help a shouting man in Moscow at three in the morning. He got up, went into the hall, and knocked on the door to the apartment directly across from the one in which he had briefly lived as Yon Mandel-stem.
'What?' a man called in a quivering, frightened voice.
'Police. Do you have a phone?'
'Yes, no,' came the man's voice.
' 'Open the door now,'' said Tkach, knowing that his voice was cracking, 'or I will have you charged with obstructing a police officer in the line of duty.'
' 'You are the police?'' the man beyond the door said, coming closer.
'Yes,' Tkach shouted.
'I am a veteran,' the man said, opening the door.
Sasha pushed past the man and had only the impression that he was fragile. He saw the phone and moved to it. He had to hurry, had to get back to Zelach.
With a calmness that amazed and appalled him, Sasha called Petrovka 38 and told the woman who answered to send an ambulance and help. Then he asked to leave a message for Inspector Karpo, to tell him to get to the apartment. The operator paused and then came back on the line.
'Ambulance is on the way. Team dispatched. Inspector Karpo is on vacation.'
'Yes,' said Tkach, hanging up the phone and hurrying to the door past the fragile man. Rostnikov, too, was on vacation. He would, as he deserved, face this alone.
Zelach emitted a sound, definitely a sound, as Tkach entered the room and moved quickly to kneel next to him.
'Don't move, Arkady. An ambulance is on the way.'
'My gun,' Zelach said in near panic, his remaining good eye scanning the ceiling and Sasha's face.
Tkach reached around to Zelach's holster. The gun wasn't there.
'I'll find it,' said Tkach. 'Don't move.'
Zelach was panicked now. He put his right hand behind him to try to sit up, and then his left arm made a spastic movement, and Zelach screamed silently. His mouth opened, tears bubbled in the corner of his good eye, and he sank back on the floor. Sasha caught his head before it struck the hard floor. The sudden movement started Zelach's chin bleeding again.
'Computer,' Zelach said, trying to turn his head toward the table. He couldn't do it, but the movement started him coughing, and the coughing brought pain.
'It's gone,' said Tkach.
Zelach's eye moved to Tkach's face.
'Crying?'
Tkach didn't answer.
'Forme?'
'Who did this?' said Tkach, but he knew; even before Zelach spoke, he knew.
' 'Two men, big, one with a yellow beard, long hair. One with red hair. Water.
Can I have water?'
'Not now,' Sasha said. 'You may have injuries inside.'
'Dry, thirsty,' Zelach said, turning his head from side to side, in search of water.
'Soon,' said Tkach. 'When did they come?'
'Water would be good,' he answered. 'Tkach, oo men-yah' boleet galavah. My head hurts.'' 'Water might be very bad.'
'Before I could-'
'We'll talk later, Arkady,' Tkach said as he heard the first distant blare of the ambulance.
'Later,' Zelach agreed. 'Yes. You called an ambulance?'
'Yes.'
'I heard you call an ambulance. I'm going to the hospital. Tell my mother. Don't frighten her, please. Tell her I'm fine even if I am not.'' 'I will. I want to tell you what happened last night, why I wasn't here with you.'
But the lie didn't come. The ambulance was close now. He could get the lie out, but it would not come.
'I was with a woman. I should have been here, but-'
'You know where I live? You know my number?' Zelach said, closing his good eye.
'I can get it,' said Tkach. 'Last night…'
'Do I look very bad, Sasha?'' he said, so softly that Tkach could hardly hear him, and then a man came through the door, and another man, and a woman and an MVD officer
whom Tkach recognized, Dolnetzin, the man in charge of the computer-theft squad.
'You do not look good, Arkady,' Tkach said.
'Keep my mother away. Lie to her,' Zelach said. 'I think my eye hurts the most.'
Dolnetzin looked down at Zelach, sighed very deeply, and whispered orders to the man and the woman with him as they went back out through the door.
Sasha was not sure if Zelach had heard his confession or had absorbed it if he had. It had been stupid and self-serving to confess. Zelach was in no condition to ease Sasha's guilt. There would be time later.
'Tkach,' said Dolnetzin, a tall young man with a mustache that helped only a little in making him look older. He was no more than a year older than Sasha, but two grades higher and in charge. 'What happened?'
'Later,' said Tkach, holding Zelach's hand and not looking at Dolnetzin as the ambulance driver and an assistant hurried in with a stretcher.
For now Tkach would not be getting a shower. He would wear the clothing that smelled of Tamara, perhaps for hours, and, he decided, as he stood up, that was as it should be and what he deserved, for he knew that while he had slept in her bed, two men had turned Zelach into the pained creature before him.
The ambulance driver and his assistant opened the stretcher and tried to place Zelach on it carefully, slowly, but even the tiniest movement caused a groan of agony.
Sasha stood and turned to face Dolnetzin, who waited, hands folded in front of him. Dolnetzin wore a British tweed jacket over a white shirt and a plaid sweater.
'I'm going to the hospital with Zelach,' Sasha announced.
'What happened?' Dolnetzin asked again, much more firmly than before.
'I failed him,' said Sasha, looking anxiously toward the door and seeing the handle of Zelach's gun barely poking out from beneath a reproduction of a seascape that had apparently fallen to the floor in the struggle.
'I will need more than that, Tkach,' Dolnetzin said.
'There is no more,' said Sasha, moving to the seascape, picking up the weapon, and putting it into his pocket. 'Now I must go.'
He hurried through the door and ran after the stretcher.
Dolnetzin had twice seen others lose control when they had felt responsible for the death of a fellow officer. There was a madness in their eyes that could either be fought or allowed to run its course. Dolnetzin decided to let it run its course, which was why at such an early age he was a full inspector in charge of a division, with the promise of a very bright future.
Yakov Krivonos was gone. He had been replaced by Yakov Shechedrin. Yakov looked in the mirror at the young man before him. It was the kind of young man he hated. Short hair combed back, perfectly shaved, wearing a suit with a tie.
'Wear these,' Jerold said, handing him a pair of glasses with heavy dark rims.
'No,' said Yakov.
'Wear them,' Jerold said again. 'Believe me.'
Yakov put on the glasses and looked at himself again in the mirror. No doubt. If he had encountered a person
